Year In The Kingdom

Tillman's intimate, close-miced voice, does lend Year in the Kingdom a lonesome, somber tone, one Tillman-- a funny, amicable dude, if you've ever heard him clowning on himself at a Fleet Foxes gig-- would do well to shake on occasion. Next time, maybe; for now, the stout, supine Year in the Kingdom, Tillman's second fine record of the year, will certainly do.

As Year in the Kingdom moves along, beautifully and without a misstep, you can imagine that crowded reunion downstairs from Tillman.

The songs are slower than a Warhol flick, and Tillman's quavering, dirgelike vocals become a navel-gazing bore.

Year in the Kingdom suggests whatever band he’s drumming for is ultimately inconsequential; this backwoods wanderer seems fully capable of detailing his wreckage on his own.

Quietly confessional and ever so slightly disturbing. [Oct 2009, p.117]

The pulse never rises above a heartbeat, but as the nine songs clock in at 34 minutes, the absence of tempo changes is barely noticed. [Oct 2009, p.112]

Though the sound remains dreamy, it's expansive; the melodic songs have a feeling of joy. [Oct 2009, p.101]

Year In The Kingdom verges on limp self-indulgence. [Fall 2009, p.67]

Music that's built more around the image earnest and honesty than musicality can definitely be a powerful thing, but that's just the problem: It's either powerful or it's not. On Year in the Kindgom, J. Tillman is either a soothsaying troubdaour, or he's not.