Somewhere far from the manic, closer to the depressive, a certain mood resides. It's the sleepy, hollow feeling that combines exhaustion and regret, the silent mood that often descends upon a room full of druggies and drunks around 6am. The night is clearly over, the fun already a fading memory, and the next day is about to begin -- the first streaks of sun washing into the dark sky. You don't even want to move from your spot on the couch -- you want it to go on -- but you know that the daylight is racing for you and that to survive the following day, you must, must get to sleep as soon as possible. You're on the tail end of something that happened and it's just a story from now on, go to bed.

That's the sense that I get from Apartment Life. There is an inherent hollowness to their sound, very few tracks presenting anything resembling cheer. Dominique Durand's lazy lilt is usually accompanied by thoroughly sighing hi-hats and a sad guitar strum. Delicate, with the distinct scent of euro-cafe sensibility, Apartment Life soundtracks forgotten afternoons and long walks alone. As a guidepost, think minimalistic but better than Belly; well-written but not nearly as confrontational as 10,000 Maniacs. It curls around and lulls you to sleep, finally accepting the inevitability of the coming day.

-James P. Wisdom