We see what you did there.

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[5.71]

Anthony Easton: “Countably Infinite” is a great slogan, and if you stripped two or three of the disco signifers from this, you would have the lost great Pet Shop single, but what you have now is a mess, and not a particularity unique or interesting mess.
[4]

Iain Mew: I picture futuristic skyscrapers, gleaming in white and silver and glass, when listening to the sleek lines and percolating synths of “Countably Infinite.” I don’t know if that’s because it’s what it’s naturally evocative of or because it sounds so much like the non-Lisa Miskovsy bits of the Mirror’s Edge soundtrack, but it’s a nice effect. It makes me wish that it had a singer who was just a touch less glum and gnomic, though he doesn’t detract as it is. 
[7]

Brad Shoup: “Is it true/Do we drift apart,” asks Markus Zahradnicek, sounding like the world’s least engaged psychiatry patient. The languid melody burrows deep, and the text suits Zahradnicek’s laconic tendencies, even if everything’s on the profundity tip of the title.
[7]

Alfred Soto: I swear I’ve heard this beat in the late nineties but not with such protean skill, such as that moment at the 2:36 when the beat is all that’s left. The massed harmonies in the melodramatic chorus help.
[7]

Ramzi Awn: The problem with having countably infinite things to say is that most of them are inevitably less interesting once you actually say them. That’s why editors have jobs, and in music, the cutting room floor is half the battle. “Countably Infinite” draws upon a number of influences but fails to make them its own, resulting in a male ennui so boring, it almost makes you forget all about heartache. If this is what lovesickness sounds like, remind me never to have my heart broken again. 
[3]

Jonathan Bogart: Expensive-sounding minimal production and sweetly bruised melody let down rather badly by anonymous, uninflected vocals that neither reach for the pain suggested in the lyrics or make a virtue of blankness. They’re just kind of there, like the thousands of internet writer dudes insisting that we be interested in them despite saying nothing interesting. As one of those dudes, I’m predisposed to dislike the genus.
[6]

Will Adams: Starts out with the right ingredients: paper-thin pads, a simple but hooky bassline, xylophones plinking prettily in the background, a mournful male vocal, and a quirk to set it apart (the strange stress on the word “in-FIN-ite”), but it doesn’t really go anywhere. With the melodic height it reaches, “Is it true/do we drift apart?” is the kind of lyric that should make the music soar, yet here it hovers two feet above ground.
[6]