[ rock/pop ]
Neither Russian, futuristic nor even plural, Torontonian nostalgiac Matthew Adam Hart makes cheap-sounding yet absurdly sumptuous bedroom synth-pop that sounds like a 10-times-dorkier Postal Service, or a sunnier '90s-era Magnetic Fields with a penchant for thuggish hip-hop beats. His fourth album, The Weight's on the Wheels (Upper Class), arrives after a five-and-a-half-year gap, but he's lost none of his plinky-plonky production decadence or his knack for tongue-twisty, Cole Porter-ish internal rhyme-play.


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