If a mad mix of tango and cowboy music can be called "roots", then Julian Curwin's Tango Saloon moves away from them with this second album. Once again, however, Curwin doesn't let a laugh get in the way of good music, ensuring that when he makes you smile, the piece withstands repeated listening.
 
There is a greater diversity of moods and textures in this CD's sometimes tongue-in-cheek, sometimes genuinely bewitching walk on the dark side, including Jane Sheldon's disembodied voice and Curwin's tremolando guitar on I Want Some Fun. That's a world away from the Munsters-like diabolism of Transylvania, with its puffed-chest tuba and trombone. Accordion and viola lead Dance of the Dead closer to tango, and the tune is delightful, while the pantomime elements of The Chase give way to a truly ravishing little melody, and then a dash of King Crimson-like metallic brutality.

John Shand, Sydney Morning Herald 9/8/08

Although a concept album based on that most enduring of horror icons, Count Dracula, Transylvania isn't a grim, blood-soaked record of shrieking organs and shrill violins. Rather, Tango Saloon leader Julian Curwin has turned to the folk music of Eastern Europe to capture something of the superstitious culture of those dwelling in the shadow of the Carpathians. Transylvania is dark - much darker than the band's 2006 debut - but it never resorts to cheap Halloween trickery to convey its intended mood.

Like Secret Chiefs 3 (a band with whom this group share not only a common sensibility but also drummer Danny Heifetz), The Tango Saloon don't craft their tunes from the airless innards of some vast sample library. These are real instruments - trombone, tuba, harpsichord, marimba, accordion, saxophone - being played by real humans. Real, extraordinarily talented humans.

It's conceptual nature, widescreen compositions - from the gypsy swing of Dance Of The Dead and Oblivious (There's Something Down There) to the surreal lounge-pop of Dracula Cha Cha (which features vocals from Mike Patton) - and nods to the likes of Angelo Badalamenti and Ennio Morricone make it tempting to describe Transylvania as the score to a non-existent film. But to avoid such a naff cliche, it's better just to say that Transylvania is a richly evocative and beautifully textural record, with a sharp blend of theatricality and restraint that is a credit to its creators and their vision.

Adam D Mills, Drum Media 8/7/08