Will a cult-fave violinist get us to like Owl City at last? (Spoiler: Yeah, no.)

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Patrick St. Michel: The twinkle refuses to leave Adam Young’s eyes, and let’s give this guy a little credit — Owl City used to be labeled a lazy Postal Service biter but has now released more albums and songs than that project could. And in the process, he’s managed to be smarmier and more lunkheaded than Ben Gibbard ever was — impressive, considering he once devoted a verse to celebrating global warming. Yet here’s Young, comparing himself to a drug addict and getting teary-eyed over waves. Here’s Young recruiting some violinist to make his already wide-eyed patter even more Upworthy. Here’s Young wondering “when did the sky turn black/and when will the light come back,” unaware of how days work.
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Megan Harrington: Please take this point and tack it to Ariana Grande’s score and replace my words with this video.
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David Sheffieck: It’s been four(!) albums, but Owl City is still doubling down on the idea that people won’t get sick of his once-removed Postal Service shtick. Did he see that reunion show where they played “Such Great Heights” twice and figure he had a little more milk to squeeze from the stone?
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Anthony Easton: The advantage of Owl City’s emo bleating is that it is melodic enough to avoid the lyrics. 
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Katherine St Asaph: If the lukewarm-milk delivery of Adam’s vocals couldn’t make these crunchy brostep drops go soggy, “motion/ocean/emotion” would. As for Lindsey, she’s here for demographic courting only.
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Brad Shoup: Stirling’s spent a couple years kicking around in the corners of the music industry lit by dorm laptops; this actually counts as a step out of the muck. Not that anyone’s going to call their DJ to ask who that violinist is; I can’t imagine Owl City’s wide-eyed sludge will survive the scan dial. One more person who shouldn’t write about addiction.
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Alfred Soto: So this is a story. I don’t know what’s more dizzying — the electronic werps and swirls and whoops or those flat Midwestern tones swirling “When did the sky turn black/and when will the light come back?” around its mouth. And that’s before the line “I’m ecstatic like a drug addict.”
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Josh Langhoff: Triple rhymes threaten to aid ‘n’ abetten Owl’s cute armageddon, his blah world order. His sub-Springsteenisms smooth over schisms like pandering jism; it makes for cheap mortar.
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Scott Mildenhall: Adam Young still has a knack for both nursery rhyme lyrics and melodies, and that’s fine for a few songs, but hearing him circle another “cab driver, turned to skydiver, then to survivor” out of his mouth just feels like a parody now, and a belated one too. He seems nothing if not sincere in his untimely dubstep touches and likely unintentional veer towards The Raveonettes, but that doesn’t make this especially good.
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Thomas Inskeep: He wants to be the Postal Service so bad. Also, he wants it to still be 2003 SO BAD.
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Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: Sounds like swimming through treacle, such is the smiley-face gooeyness of “Beautiful Times”, a sincere-seeming song without a shred of awareness within. “I’m ecstatic like a drug addict locked in the attic” is now the twee bullshit “ill lyrical miracle real spiritual”. Owl City, reppin’ that true bullshit!
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