THE REVIEWS ARE IN…

Let me tell you something, motherfucker. Red Apples will take a perfectly good song and test your goddamn faith with it. Long pauses. Awkward silence. Parts where you’re like, is this still happening? And it is. It just keeps happening. “The Lord is my shepherd,” right? Well, these cats ain’t shepherding shit. They’re wandering. And maybe wandering’s holy, I don’t know.

• JULES WINNFIELD

They drag things out like they enjoy watchin’ people squirm. Notes hangin’ there too long, songs that feel like they’re about to fall apart and never do. I don’t mind ugly. I don’t mind mean. But this wasn’t either. It was just stubborn. Like a mule that won’t move and won’t die. I laughed at first. Then I stopped.

• DAISY DOMERGUE

Ah, Red Apples… interessantissimo. Vede, in Italia diremmo che hanno pazienza, ma non necessariamente direzione. En France, on appellerait ça une promesse non tenue — quelque chose qui commence avec élégance et refuse ensuite de se conclure. Und auf Deutsch, ich würde sagen: absichtlich unbefriedigend. Sehr kontrolliert, sehr bewusst, und vollkommen gleichgültig gegenüber Ihrem Vergnügen. They don’t fail by accident. They fail on purpose.

• HANS LANDA

Here’s the thing. Red Apples is the kind of band that thinks refusing to give you the good part is the good part. And sometimes that works. But mostly it doesn’t. They confuse patience with tension and restraint with style, and that’s a rookie mistake. If you’re gonna fuck with an audience, you better make damn sure you’re entertaining while you’re doing it. Otherwise, you’re just burning time.

• QUENTIN TARANTINO