At first, the experience wasn’t bad. The ballads had decent guitar and drum textures, and the Southern swamp-rock feel made me almost believe a real band was behind the music. But the more I listened, the more I noticed there was no real meaning. No emotional arc. Every track started to sound exactly the same, as though someone had hit shuffle on the same song thirteen times.

Joanna Stern, I Am Not a Robot- My Year U…, loc. 696