…and, let’s face it, The New Pornographers.

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Iain Mew: Extremely shiny and catchy, but it gets there by pushing so constantly there’s no room to be anything but. I enjoy the time spent with it but want to get out of its company and into my own space afterwards; in other words, the title is perfect.
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Jer Fairall: The title is compelling, with A.C. Newman positioning himself and his fellow indie vets as a band of thugs beating up on classic pop songwriting until its swelled black-and-blue. And the song delivers on this premise: filled with crashing guitars, bloopy organs, intrusive orchestral bits, a nonsensical wordless vocal hook and Newman’s indecipherable but enthusiastic vocals, “Brill Bruisers” is dazed, aggressive and misshapen. Only a too-brief, semi-acoustic bridge two thirds of the way through provides any relief, the welcoming sound of what is probably Neko Case cooing away in the background. I love the Pornos, and I rarely don’t love them in pop-maximalist mode, but I’m hoping that the album contains a sturdier balance of bruisers and the Brill.
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Juana Giaimo: Having The New Pornographers often been tagged as “power pop”, it’s good to know that they recovered their energy. However, after listening to “Brill Bruisers” a couple of times, the power soon vanishes.
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Alfred Soto: Nine years since their most essential album, I’ve lost any interest in power pop: too much pop, no power. Here’s a test case. Slower, thicker, harmonies stacked like Marshall amps, ooh-ooh interludes to show A.C. Newman’s genius, a sense of importance stolen from Arcade Fire.
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Megan Harrington: At their best, The New Pornographers are a vehicle that steers A.C. Newman’s power pop songwriting (and not vice versa), this can either be undeniably magnetic (“The Bleeding Heart Show”) or simply competent (“Star Bodies”) depending on the presence of Neko Case. “Brill Bruisers” is without Case and parting on the passable side of their catalog. At least it’s not a Bejar number?
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Edward Okulicz: So ungraceful (that lumbering rhythm that wouldn’t know a swagger if it was bitten on the behind by one) and yet unbecomingly fussy at the same time (keyboards, recurring booh-bah-bah b-vox). I mean, how do you even do both of those at the same time? I’ll take the big hooks with nowhere to hide of the first two New Pornographers albums (plus A.C. Newman’s also-great The Slow Wonder) over big crushes of “power” “pop” noise covering something I can’t quite make out.
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Brad Shoup: All those Pornographers are so clever, every last one of ’em, and when they do the Voltron thing all that cleverness gets smothered (at least twice an album) in a crush of hooks. The surge of the chorus, like a joyous battering ram. A.C. Newman’s grasp of the more poignant keys. The flare of the synth burbles contrasted with those string hits. This is recessional music.
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Madeleine Lee: Brill Bruisers (Newman, 2014): Action-adventure. The Wall of Sound gains physical form (if not quite sentience) and buries a catalogue of front-and-centre melodies under a thick wave of reverb and backing vocals. Only one ambitious bit of harmony can burst through to the surface, and it’s a thrilling back-and-forth until the Wall finally stops dead in its tracks.
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