Difficult to conceive that The Fiery Furnaces were once considered next in line to the White Stripes. Since their startlingly 2003 debut, the group has pursued a career that redefines perversity, and now resurface with a 16-track vintage-synth, quirk-rock campus novel, taking in Egyptian studies, sheep sacrifices and Navajo basketball coaches but without much of the tenderness of their similarly difficult Rehearsing My Choir. “If you wish to wait til dusk, I respect your policy,” sings Eleanor, but by now the patience of even their most ardent fans must be wearing thin.
STEPHEN TROUSSÉ
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