The three-year stretch between {^Gimme Fiction} and {$Spoon}'s previous album, {^Kill the Moonlight}, was the longest gap between the band's releases since the end of its disastrous relationship with {@Elektra Records} helped put two and a half years between {^A Series of Sneaks} and {^Girls Can Tell}. Though the circumstances behind this hiatus probably weren't as dire as those behind the band's previous one, the anticipation surrounding {^Gimme Fiction} was nearly as high as it was for {^Girls Can Tell}, and {^Gimme Fiction} feels like as much of a refinement on what came before it as {^Girls Can Tell} did at the time. A dark, theatrical album seething with late-night tension and menace, {^Gimme Fiction} is a bigger-sounding affair than {$Spoon}'s previous work, with lots of keyboards, guitars, and strings parts courtesy of {$the Tosca Strings}. But, even with the album's bigger scope, the band keeps its eye for detail. Everything about {^Gimme Fiction}, from its artwork -- which looks like photographer {$Irving Penn} doing a surreal fashion spread on {%Little Red Riding Hood} for {~Vogue Magazine} circa the 1950s -- to the little sound effects that embellish each song, is meticulous. Fortunately, "meticulous" doesn't spill over into "careful" or "precious"; the album's first three tracks show that {$Spoon} makes music that's intricate and rousing at the same time. {&"The Beast and Dragon, Adored"} acts as a slow-building preface and statement of intent, mentioning later song titles and introducing {^Gimme Fiction}'s big, brooding sound. {&"The Two Sides of Monsieur Valentine,"} a string-driven tale of a mysterious gentleman/cad, boasts some of {$Britt Daniel}'s cleverest storytelling, while {&"I Turn My Camera On"} turns voyeurism and emotional distance into a subtly irresistible groove that sounds like a tense rewrite of {$the Stones}' {&"Emotional Rescue"} (later on, the intro of {&"They Never Got You"} sounds strangely like {$Hall & Oates}' {&"Maneater"} -- it's nice to hear them reach back to '70s and '80s references that aren't the {\post-punk} and {\new wave} influences borrowed by so many other {\indie rock} bands, or even the {$Elvis Costello} nods that shaped so much of {$Spoon}'s earlier work). {^Gimme Fiction}'s opening trio of songs is so strong that it tends to overpower the rest of the album at first, but other standouts eventually bubble to the surface: {&"My Mathematical Mind"} is one long verse, broken up by instrumental interludes where choruses would normally go; it keeps building and building, and though it's not an immediate song, it is a hypnotic one. On the other hand, the relatively lighthearted {&"Sister Jack"} and pretty but oddly jittery acoustic {\ballad} {&"I Summon You"} just emphasize how moody and nocturnal the rest of the album is. Indeed, taut, restrained tracks like {&"The Delicate Place,"} {&"The Infinite Pet,"} and {&"Merchants of Soul"} seem to be more about supporting {^Gimme Fiction}'s nocturnal mood than standing out as great songs. Still the interesting productions and arrangements on songs like these and {&"Was It You?"} make them enjoyable in their own right. "Meticulous," "distant," and "restrained" may not be the most likely adjectives to describe a good {\rock} record, but they fit {^Gimme Fiction} perfectly. With this album, {$Spoon} continues to build one of the most consistent, and distinctive, bodies of work in {\indie rock} -- the band makes changes and takes chances from album to album, but ends up sounding exactly how {$Spoon} should sound each time. [{^Gimme Fiction} was also released with a disc of bonus tracks that included the previously unreleased songs {&"Carryout Kids"} and {&"You Was It,"} as well as demos of {&"I Summon You"} and {&"Sister Jack."}] ~ Heather Phares, All Music Guide