Panda Bear’s new solo album, Sinister Grift, is bland, banal, and derivative.
It’s a vapid parade of unimaginative, radio-ready pop. It’s arguably the lamest album of his entire career — the spacey psychedelia of Animal Collective’s best work (i.e.; Spirit They’ve Gone They’ve Vanished and Here Comes The Indian) has more or less dissipated. Instead, we’re tortured with endless failed attempts at hits interspersed with “confessional singer-songwriter” tracks which do nothing other than offer a glimpse into the middle aged senility taking root inside of Panda Bear’s cranium. If you were considering listening, don’t.
Younger listeners will merely laugh at how out of touch Panda Bear sounds in 2025. Fans of his earlier output will have diffculty listening to such a shameless sellout. As overrated as it was, Merriweather Post Pavilion at least had something to commend itself. This, on the other hand, is a total waste.
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Brett Abrahamsen is a lifelong connoisseur of the experimental and obscure. He is also a science fiction writer (and an amateur philosopher of sorts). He resides in Saratoga Springs, N.Y.
