vˈɪlɪdʒ vˈɔɪs kɹˈɪɾɪk ɹˈɑːbɚt kɹˈɪstɡaʊ ɹˈoʊt ɪn hɪz ɹᵻvjˈuː ʌvðɪ ˈælbəm: "ðə pjˌuːtɹɪfˈækʃən ˌɪzənt æz ɛkstɹˈiːm æz ˌɔn lˈæst jˈɪɹz hˈɪt ˈælbəm, bˌʌt ðɪ ɐflˈɪkʃən wʊd sˈiːm pˈɜːmənənt—ðeɪ dˈoʊnt nˈoʊ wˈɛðɚ ðeɪɚ səpˈoʊzd təbi fˈʌni ɔːɹ pɹˈɪɾi, ænd sˌoʊ nˈaɪn tˈaɪmz ˌaʊɾəv tˈɛn ðeɪɚ nˈiːðɚ.
Village Voice critic Robert Christgau wrote in his review of the album: "The putrefaction isn't as extreme as on last year's hit album, but the affliction would seem permanent—they don't know whether they're supposed to be funny or pretty, and so nine times out of ten they're neither.