RS Review
2.5/5
By Jon Dolan
MARCH 1, 2011
If it's vaguely hippie-ish and vaguely Californian, count on Ebert to work it into his solo debut: acid-folk reveries, Beck-ish busker rap, lyrics about Vietnam, sensitive maleness, Dylanisms, yodeling, calling women "mama," reggae, bongos. A Jesus-beard guy who fronts the 11-piece collective Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, Ebert has been working the L.A. music scene for more than a decade. But the dream-catcher naiveté he tries on here seems genuine. It's also kind of annoying: "Would you call the Earth an asshole for turning round and round?/Ya know it never, ever stays in just one place." We wouldn't, because unlike some people, we weren't skipping out of science class to do 'shrooms.
By Jon Dolan
MARCH 1, 2011
If it's vaguely hippie-ish and vaguely Californian, count on Ebert to work it into his solo debut: acid-folk reveries, Beck-ish busker rap, lyrics about Vietnam, sensitive maleness, Dylanisms, yodeling, calling women "mama," reggae, bongos. A Jesus-beard guy who fronts the 11-piece collective Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, Ebert has been working the L.A. music scene for more than a decade. But the dream-catcher naiveté he tries on here seems genuine. It's also kind of annoying: "Would you call the Earth an asshole for turning round and round?/Ya know it never, ever stays in just one place." We wouldn't, because unlike some people, we weren't skipping out of science class to do 'shrooms.
