11 Songs, 42 Minutes

EDITORS’ NOTES

On their third album, The Strumbellas’ huge folk-rock sound is rendered even huger. While their past LPs were rooted in a decidedly down-home aesthetic—like a bunch of old friends playing in a corner bar—Hope feels like a shot at the stars. On rustic-hued tunes such as “We Don’t Know” and “Spirits,” singer Simon Ward aches on lines like, “I’ll be a dreamer 'til the day I die/But they say, ‘Oh, how the good die young,'” before the six-piece band explodes in a gorgeous, chill-inducing chorus of piano, guitar, strings, claps, stomps, and fervent group singing. That’s the record’s strength again and again—compellingly written songs, expert arrangements, swelling emotion, and the beauty of many voices becoming one.

EDITORS’ NOTES

On their third album, The Strumbellas’ huge folk-rock sound is rendered even huger. While their past LPs were rooted in a decidedly down-home aesthetic—like a bunch of old friends playing in a corner bar—Hope feels like a shot at the stars. On rustic-hued tunes such as “We Don’t Know” and “Spirits,” singer Simon Ward aches on lines like, “I’ll be a dreamer 'til the day I die/But they say, ‘Oh, how the good die young,'” before the six-piece band explodes in a gorgeous, chill-inducing chorus of piano, guitar, strings, claps, stomps, and fervent group singing. That’s the record’s strength again and again—compellingly written songs, expert arrangements, swelling emotion, and the beauty of many voices becoming one.

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