“Sigh. For obscure acts of the 90s finally sucking some surface air, subpar is the new par. Those of us who have long pursued John Darnielle's bronze crumbs will head down to our record stores today in our scarves and messenger bags, expecting an opus, but we will leave nonplussed. *We Shall All Be Healed* is like an ugly, hollow sports victory for a team anticipated to blow away the opposition. If”
