The things that keep a rock band together for decades at a time are no different than the things that keep any of group people together in the long term: Shared goals, a modicum of patience, a willingness to forgive minor offenses, a reasonable amount of chemistry, and decent food eaten together. None of this is a revelation, nor is it new. In fact, the “eating together” bit is particularly old, seeing how archaeologists keep digging up centuries-old taverns and public eateries in Iraq, amid the ruins of Pompeii, and on Scottish islands. People need people, and people need to eat. Thus humanity keeps sitting down to dine together, the members of Blonde Redhead very much included. Not counting the 2016 early career compilation Masculin Féminin, Sit Down For Dinner is the band’s first record since 2014’s comparatively sparse Barragán was met with mixed reviews, which is to say Exclaim! went with “grower” whereas Pitchfork called it a “cold fish.” Sit Down For Dinner is a proudly simple and deeply felt record, tying off the end of the group’s third decade with unobtrusive confidence and lilting, melodic dream pop balladry. Its origins stretch back to the malaise of pandemic lockdowns, of which communal dinner was an early casualty and a particularly tragic one considering the cultural backgrounds of Japan-born Kazu Makino and her Italian bandmates Amedeo and Simone Pace. Sit Down For Dinner hangs together around its two-part centerpiece of a title track. The first part is an o