A Crow Left of the Murder

1	Megalomaniac 4:54
2	A Crow Left of the Murder 3:30
3	Agoraphobia 3:52
4	Talk Shows on Mute 3:49
5	Beware! Criminal 3:48
6	Sick Sad Little World 6:23
7	Pistola 4:23
8	Southern Girl 3:41
9	Priceless 4:07
10	Zee Deveel 3:52
11	Made for TV Movie 3:38
12	Smile Lines 3:59
13	Here in My Room 4:20
14	Leech 4:19

Barnes & Noble

Having carved out a niche as the thinking person's nü-metal band, Incubus up the ante on their sixth disc, delving deep into themes of war and social injustice -- which, not surprisingly, they're against -- and pushing into previously unexplored sonic realms. Brandon Boyd and company waste no time in setting the tone, leading off with the biliously political "Megalomaniac," on which the singer strafes angular bass lines with an angry energy reminiscent of John Lydon circa Public Image's Second Edition. The tenor changes considerably on the disc's title cut, which is guided into kraut-rock territory by Mike Einziger's fleet, fluid guitar leads. Boyd takes center stage on "Agoraphobia," on which he dips agonizingly into the lower register to convey the desperation of the white-knuckled lyrics, then reverses field for the quizzical "Talk Shows on Mute," which could pass for a Police album track -- albeit one given a shot of adrenaline. A Crow Left of the Murder is unflaggingly refreshing, in part because there's actual motive behind the band's anger and in part because Incubus manage to drive that emotion home with tools that transcend caveman-simple clubs. David Sprague

All Music Guide

At the beginning of their career, Incubus was rightly lumped in with the legions of post-Korn alt metal/rap-rock bands swarming America in the latter days of the 20th century. But by their third album, 1999's Make Yourself, they had separated from the pack, as indicated by the presence of producer Scott Litt, best-known for his work with R.E.M.. It signaled that the band was serious, and they began expanding their rap-metal template on that album and its follow-up, 2001's Morning View, completing their transition from juvenelia to maturity with 2003's Crow Left of the Murder. Switching from Litt to producer Brendan O'Brien, a man who has been with Pearl Jam longer than any of their drummers, Incubus has opted for a clean, crisp yet heavy sound which allows them to aggressively switch from crunching metallic riffs to jazzy prog interludes. It's an expansive musical vision charged with some righteous anger; although vocalist Brandon Boyd doesn't write explicit protests, there sure are enough allusions to social turbulence to make this the first politically aware alt metal album in many a year. This maturation is even more evident in the music, how the band actually swings on "Zee Deveel," or how guitarist Michael Einzinger's jazz-influenced solos seem both carefully constructed and casually tossed off, or how Boyd's voice shifts from song to song (or during a song, as on the opening "Megalomaniac," which sounds like a bizarre blend of Mr. Mister's Richard Page and John Lydon). All this maturation does mean that Incubus may shed some older fans, since the naked ambitions on this record are far removed from the earnest, angst-ridden earlier records, but so be it -- A Crow Left of the Murder... is far more interesting than any of their other records, or their peers'. At times, they may stretch themselves a little too far here, but the ambition is admirable and the achievements are tangible -- a real breakthrough for the band. [A Crow Left of the Murder was also released in a limited-edition set with a bonus DVD containing a 26-minute documentary featuring footage from the band's Lollapalooza and Bridge Benefit performances, and of Boyd's injury.] Stephen Thomas Erlewine

Rolling Stone

[Incubus's] most consistenly tune-based album. Robert Cherry