Traversa is sumptuous background music that can brighten the mood or simply soothe the soul.

Negative Capability is a testament to her journey and what it has taught her, and it reminds us she's still a talent capable of drawing our attention.

It might not quite hit the heights on a consistent level like Writer's Block or have the emotional power of Living Thing, but Darker Days proves that the band are back on the right track.

Yawn, too, has its moments of beauty and craft, but the payoffs are so subtle and slow to arrive that its title becomes the regrettably inevitable reaction.

Taken in as a small cache of excellent songs by three of the more talented songwriters of their era, Boygenius is a wonderful starting point, setting the scene for future collaborations that push into places each member couldn't get to on her own.

Ultraviolet is a remarkable album that blurs the lines between jazz improvisation, modern composition, and ambient electronic music, forming its own musical language.

He might have made an album that doesn't follow the Blues Explosion's template so clearly. If you dig Jon Spencer, you'll have a good time with Spencer Sings the Hits. But probably not as great a time as you had with him before.

The release feels like what could've been, whereas Centres actually was, but it's still a beautiful, mystifying recording.

Black Velvet is a collection of odds and ends and not a proper album, and sometimes it sounds that way as it moves from track to track. But it is full of the heart, soul, and spirit that Charles Bradley summoned every time he stood before a microphone, and this is a moving reminder of how much he gave us, and how much we have lost.

Time 'n' Place might not be quite as cohesive as Bonito Generation, but it offers a fuller portrait of Kero Kero Bonito's music without losing any of the spark that makes them special.

One of the many impressive aspects of the Capitol Studio Sessions is just how balanced Goldblum's skills are as he deftly moves his audience from perky vocal standards to swinging instrumental numbers--each transition aided, of course, with some very charming stage banter.

The group takes pains to be able to fit onto every kind of playlist imaginable: rock, pop, electronic, soul-any popular sound that can be sculpted and shaped by a streaming service. As such, listening to Origins uncannily re-creates what it's like to experience-or maybe more accurately, consume-popular rock-oriented music in 2018: everything sounds vaguely familiar, vaguely connected, all designed to function as a soundtrack to whatever task you'd like.

Lover Chanting--the band's first release for underground stalwarts Ninja Tune -- maintained the productivity with three new songs.

As a vocalist and songwriter, Miller is in solid form here, though as with most of his solo work, this lacks a bit of the heart and soul he brings to the Old 97's. But The Messenger has a stronger individual personality that most of Miller's solo work, and he and Sam Cohen make a good team in the studio.

Lynch and Badalamenti aficionados will no doubt revel in its many strange charms, but perhaps above all, they'll appreciate the sound of two old friends having a great deal of mischievous fun.

A somewhat lengthy collection, the album does tend to drag a little in its second half and while there are no outright duds, a bit of editing might have turned a strong 14-track outing into an excellent ten or 12-track one.

At its best, My Name Is Safe in Your Mouth is a hauntingly lovely reintroduction to an underrated talent.

While it's easily the most accessible material from the project to date, a few listens will reveal that it's every bit as chaotic as their early outsider sounds.

Stardust Birthday Party is not always what one would have expected from Ron Gallo on the basis of his previous work, and for the most part that works in its favor; this is passionate and exciting music, thoughtful but never staid, and it shows Gallo to be an artist with some surprises up his sleeve.

Essentially, the album is business as usual for Laibach, which means that if you're in on their grand scheme, it's another exquisitely orchestrated laugh riot.

Heartache, triumph, anger, and resolution all feel reported on from behind a melting wall of ice, drowned out ever so slightly by the sound of a late-night party raging somewhere in the distance.

"Jingle Bells (In Memory of Avicii)" doesn't fit the vibe and it carries only trace elements of the titular holiday standard, so it stops the party cold halfway through. Cut this track out and Happy Xmas delivers some cheery Christmas vibes.

Christmas Everywhere won't replace that Mantovani Christmas album your grandfather has been playing for decades at family gatherings, but if you're tired of putting Robert Earl Keen's "Merry Christmas from the Family" on a loop for that party with your friends, Crowell and his pals will fill the bill with style.

The album's remainder employs assorted hit-angling producers connected by pop success with young women. The Pains of Growing is consequently more fragmented and less consistent than Know-It-All, but Cara makes the best of it, generally writing in a slightly wiser and sharper manner from the same introverted homebody perspective.

The first side is GospelbeacH at their best and the flip is, while admittedly not vital, still a lot of fun. Certainly anyone who liked the first two albums, and especially Another Summer of Love, needs to seriously consider adding this set to their collection.

Hood's DJ-Kicks isn't quite as wild or personality-driven as his Fabric 39 mix from a decade earlier, but it's undeniably focused, and it clearly reaches its intended goal.

This can result in highly intriguing experiences, such as the industrial drift of opening track "One on One" and the riveting "My Body," which matches its physical lyrics with muscular, glitchy drumming. Other tracks seem to meander a bit, however, and are hard to grasp at first. Still, the duo's haunting blend of challenging electronics and introspective, sometimes cathartic lyrics sounds unmistakably unique.

Hey! Merry Christmas! delivers a solid shot of good cheer for the holidays, and if this doesn't get a party started when you put it on, you and your friends need to ask Santa to bring you some coolness.

They take more risks this time around, but not in a way that alienates the listener. The result is a sublime collection of freely expressive grooves which uplift and inspire.

It's possible to hear the pure theatricality of Springsteen's performance, both in his oversized spoken introductions and singing. It becomes very clear that Springsteen is playing the part of Springsteen, exaggerating certain aspects of his life and persona for dramatic effect. This has a ripple effect through the songs-many of which are quite familiar, with a couple of latter-day numbers thrown in for good measure-which, in this context, feel written instead of lived.

Despite its intentionally unrefined character, the album is well crafted in terms of both songs and production balance, though they may not want to cop to it on record.

Whatever the artistic intent, Icarus Falls remains a monstrosity--a bountiful gift or a daunting challenge, depending on the listener--that deserves some attention if there's time and patience to spare.

Overall, Not All Heroes advances Metro Boomin's technique, utilizing an Avengers-of-trap team to amplify the drama in his atmospherics and focus the hypnotic appeal of his sharp beat pops.

Alt-country fans throwing a Christmas party will find Love the Holidays every bit as welcome as a big batch of spiked eggnog.

Offering a combination of Christmas classics and songs like the winter-themed "Sweater Weather," originally by pop group the Neighbourhood, and "When You Believe" from The Prince of Egypt, high-profile guests include Maren Morris and Kelly Clarkson.

Though they include sentiments like "Romance is dead and done/And it hits between the eyes," songs such as "Romance" and "I Can't Keep You" are more up-tempo and incorporate drum kit and multi-part accompaniment, but the album's sound, on average, is less sustained and more frail than Daughter's, and the lyrics more personal.

This trio kicked this out in a burst of powerful inspiration, and if this had been pressed up as a 45 in 1979, one of these tracks would probably ended up on a Killed By Death compilation by now. The C.I.A. is good noisy, cranky fun from folks who know how.

It will be interesting to see if You Tell Me is the start of something long-running or just a one-off. However it turns out, the album works as another argument in favor of the on-going genius of Peter Brewis and as an impressive introduction to the lovely music of Sarah Hayes.

Subtract the handful of tracks that fall into this category [come off like bad imitations of Drake or the Weeknd] and what's left is a fun, very well-crafted EP of uplifting dance music, the best Bear has made yet. Add them back and the record ends up a very mixed, somewhat disappointing bag that takes Toro y Moi to some exciting new places, but also treads familiar ground.

Older, wiser, and still passionate, Phoenix is a worthy continuation of Pedro the Lion's legacy with just enough spirit to set it apart from his 2010s solo work.

The album is an ambitious and adventurous set of music that's every bit as engaged as anything they've ever released, and there's an undertow of discovery that makes their new music an adventure worth a spin or two.

Myth of a Man ultimately feels more like a Danny Lee Blackwell solo project than a Night Beats album, but it's a very good Blackwell solo album--a largely successful creative detour that shows he has more up his sleeve than expected, though fans of his more raucous sessions may be a bit thrown by it.

Ultimately, Fool isn't as satisfying as Jackson's more straightforward work of the '80s, but if this sometime suffers from too much ambition, Jackson clearly is good enough to come close to what he's aiming for, and in the moments where he connects, it's a truly impressive piece of work.

These 12 songs represent artistic development and a strike at emotional vulnerability from a talent who could have tread well-known territory indefinitely. At times, the changes feel experimental and uneven, but when they connect, the shifting perspectives of Assume Form are refreshing.

Tobacco's production throughout the album isn't quite as lo-fi or dirty-sounding as his solo work, and his presence is clearly felt, but he doesn't overpower Aesop. The two are a fitting match for each other, and their collaboration works as well as fans would expect.

A front-loaded set song-wise, it maintains an effervescence and living-room danceability that has the potential to charm the masses.

Maybe Krol isn't cool, but Power Chords shows he's fierce, fun, exciting, and real, and that always means more in the long run.

Even if it's not quite as cohesive as Clear Shot, Happy in the Hollow doesn't change the feeling that the members of TOY have one foot in another dimension that they're waiting to transport their listeners to.

While both performers are too iconic for Better Oblivion Community Center to truly feel separate from their respective bodies of work, there's still a strange magic that comes from the combination.

Swindle aims high on No More Normal, which is clearly intended for a widespread audience rather than the U.K. underground massive, and its best moments are grand and inspirational.

At nine songs, Look Alive never wears out its welcome, and its commitment to sonic versatility, no matter how nostalgia-driven, helps temper some of its more forgettable moments. In evoking the '80s synth pop of their youth, Guster have unearthed a small gem that gives off a familiar, yet undeniably dazzling shine.

At 13 tracks, and the more forgettable ones clustered in the second half, the album could have benefitted from some trimming, but it ends elegantly, with a reassuring title track that seems to promise further growth.

The relatively empty arrangements take a few listens to latch on, but their openness showcases Lennox's gifts for honest, fearless songwriting. Try as he may to embrace external influences, Panda Bear remains inescapably himself.

While the album is his most musically rambling yet, with the exception of "American Canyon Sutra," there's no denying its elegant musicianship.

Dando remains a sensitive, nuanced interpreter and, as produced by Matthew Cullen, the Lemonheads sound amiable and charming: the best college bar band you could imagine stumbling upon on a Saturday afternoon.

A broadening of consciousness blends nicely with Yak's gut-level execution, resulting in an uncannily absorbing slice of neo-psychedelia.

An album that's part catchy song, part shimmering atmosphere, and part fractured rumination. It will be interesting to see what Webb comes up with for album four; in the meantime, Triage offers Methyl Ethel's most immersive collection to date.

"Tell Me It's Over" sways with echoes of a '50s slow dance, "Crush" is so light it floats into the stratosphere, and "Bigger Wow" swells with strings reminiscent of vintage Vanessa Carlton. Such moments provide a needed contrast to the motivational ones while also connecting to Lavigne's bubblegum roots, a move that makes the overall maturation of the album feel earned.

Some regular guys craft occasional masterpieces, but Hayes Carll more often is the guy who delivers a good, solid, and enjoyable piece of work and then moves on, and that's what he's given his fans on What It Is. Like the cheeseburger that regular guy ordered at the bar, it may not be fancy, but it sure leaves you satisfied.

While the album's highlights work on their own, Helium is best approached as a full listening experience, as it feels like a venture into a slightly different world than our own.

While fans of Royal Trux's inventiveness might find more of that in Hagerty's and Herrema's solo work, White Stuff is still another entertaining part of a reunion that once seemed impossible.

Post Earth is a step up all around for Feels, and refreshingly demonstrates they don't need a garage-pop prodigy on board to make an album worth hearing.

There are a few moments on the album where the drums sound a little cluttered or it isn't quite clear what direction a song is going in, although perhaps that's to be expected for music meant to be this dreamlike--it's not always supposed to make perfectly logical sense. Regardless, the album is a delightful trip from an unmistakably original artist.

Lines, Vols. 1–3 continues to look to the past for inspiration, yet it does so with a contemporary flair, deftly utilizing the airy, chamber pop stylings of musical arranger and producer Adrian McNally.

For an album that hinges on frantic idea swapping, Birthday manages to consistently surprise, making it something of a celebration of kooky guitar-driven pop, all the while maintaining momentum and a sense of unbridled joy.

Telekinesis isn't often cited as one of America's best and smartest pop acts, but Effluxion demonstrates Learner lives up to that billing, and this LP is a real treat for power pop obsessives and anyone who likes some melodies with their rock & roll.

The resulting album has a fuller sound, though it's still distinctly intimate. Lyrically, Placeholder explores various relationships--good and bad--which is reflected in a musical demeanor that's both melancholy and sweet.

American Love Call is the first album this band has recorded in a proper studio, and though the production is cleaner and the arrangements are more ambitious than those on their self-titled 2016 debut, the addition of strings and horns don't clutter the surroundings and instead refine and focus the sound of a band that already had a good thing going.

Guitar slayers notwithstanding, Nobody Told Me is a hallmark Mayall date, chock-full of great songs and performances that underscore his considerable (and well-deserved) reputation.

There's more than a hint of soul and gospel, tempered with arty arena rock that's drawn equally from U2 and Peter Gabriel--but the overall feeling isn't anguished, it's consoling. It's a subtle but notable shift that lends emotional gravity to a singer/songwriter who already favored weighty topics.

It's Pond's personality that shines brightest on Tasmania, and they've turned these songs into an off-kilter gem that's worth exploring.

Foals have always been deft wielders of unease, and the shambolic Everything Not Saved Will Be Lost feels certain in its uncertainty. Whether or not all of these stylistic shifts find some common ground with the release of volume two remains to be seen, but there's no denying the vitality that runs through this ten-song set, nor the inescapable feeling of doom.

The sound isn't a throwback to their first (or second) great era so much as it reflects the best qualities of their more mature work, and if it's not quite what some folks may have hoped for, it's a pleasing and well-crafted set that reminds listeners this band is still vital and productive.

The first album from the rebooted Test Dept. is an update of their '80s aesthetic, with metallic percussion, dramatic samples, and aggressive, political lyrics all forming the basis of the group's sound.

Donnelly never wavers in her directness or honesty, but doesn't equate strong statements with volume. Instead, her well-constructed and sometimes weightless songs crush their enemies with a knowing smile and a gentle fist.

By foregrounding her lyrical intent and offering no room for interpretation, Morris winds up with songs that feel less imaginative than their execution, a flaw that is by no means fatal but does mean that Girl plays on a smaller scale than intended.

Against all odds, Weller has delivered a live album as quietly adventurous and resonant as the studio album it supports.

As a whole, Hexed may be CoB's most diverse and expansive-sounding album to date, ranging between their roots sound and adventurous experimentation. The synthesis approach found here makes for a compelling, deeply satisfying outing.

Recorded alone by Malkmus with the support of a stack of synths, drum machines, and a handful of guitars, Groove Denied doesn't fundamentally push at the boundaries of his music. Whatever electronic influence there is here, it's grounded in a stylized nod toward the pioneering, eerie analog experimentalism of the post-punk era.

To Believe is very much an experience that requires engagement if a worthwhile connection is desired; otherwise, it makes for a terrific soundtrack to a film that resides purely in the soul.

All the sonic elements are in place, so it's slightly disappointing that the songs aren't as vivid as the album's deliberately hazy vibe.

One might not have expected the Coathangers to still be making interesting music 12 years after their debut album hit the streets in 2007, but The Devil You Know reveals growing up doesn't have to be a bad thing after all.

Wener treats the new Sleeper songs as a series of short stories, and that gives The Modern Age its true spine, helping it escape the clutches of nostalgia.

Combining the no-rules ethos of the noise scene with the technical precision of metal results in a sound that coveys its punishing statements without sacrificing musicality and, indeed, exists as an artistic embodiment of off-the-charts anxiety.

It took some goading from My Morning Jacket members Carl Broemel, Bo Koster, Patrick Hallahan, and Tom Blankenship, who also serve as the backup band, but Showalter found his voice again, and the resulting 11-track set strikes a winning balance between dusty, soul-bearing Midwest folk and sanguine heartland rock.

Anyone over the age of 40 should recognize most of what they're singing about, and even if you don't, the sweeping melancholy and epic presentation should be enough to make this deep dive into relaxed angst a journey worth taking for the third time.

Here he emphasizes how he's absorbed those sounds and styles, turning them into something idiosyncratic and distinctive. This unadorned setting shifts attention not just to Snider's verbal wit but to his sly phrasing: "Working on a Song" and "Talking Reality Television Blues" find him setting up punch lines only to deliver them in unexpected ways.

Even though Gathered is very much a creative patchwork, it coheres thematically as well as musically, and sounds both sly and sincere. Howe Gelb's evolution from the most distinctive roots rocker in the desert to Arizona's most unlikely lounge singer is coming along nicely, and Gathered is a welcome addition to his catalog.

As expected from Apparat, LP5 is an ambitious, inventive album which runs on its own intuition, fusing studio wizardry with honest expression to frequently thrilling results.

As it is, it sounds like a brave experiment and a sincere effort to explore new creative avenues, but it's a long way from a rousing success. However, its high points leave one hoping that Farrar doesn't stop speaking his peace next time around.

The execution isn't quite as strong as Earle's good intentions on Guy, though if he wanted to either remind old fans on the greatness of Clark's songs or convince new ones to explore his body of work, he makes his case will eloquence and affection.

Whether he's performing an ode to tequila, juke joints, or covering Johnny Paycheck's "Old Violin," Strait sings with humor, tenderness, and ease, qualities that lend the deliberately nostalgic Honky Tonk Time Machine grace, resonance, and depth. Perhaps this isn't a new trick for Strait, but it's one to be cherished nonetheless.

With 15 songs clocking in at just shy of an hour, Cosmic Wind lingers, but stops short of overstaying its welcome. Instead the album sprawls out in a relaxed bliss, Lion Babe moving confidently through their wide spectrum of laid-back moods and smiling sounds.

Inspired by the disconnect and toxicity of social media, and the general discord sewn when the internet and the ego collide, Egowerk evokes the friction-fueled lo-fi emissions of the band's early days, but with a more measured hand.

Brutalism showcases Pierce's knack for portraying the thrilling and terrifying sides of romance and juxtaposing joyous moments with devastating ones.

Left to her own devices, Tuttle has emerged as a deft songwriter with an open heart, a keen ear for melody, and a flair for pairing dusty folk with Americana-kissed country-pop.

Martha's confessional and lovelorn themes fit perfectly in their revved-up pop framework. Love Keeps Kicking is a crystal-clear presentation of their powers, making equal space for the group's enduring stories of heartsickness, well-crafted pop structures, and blazing guitar work.

What's It Like Over There? sounds like Circa Waves are testing their longevity and aiming for a wider audience, and that's not a bad thing.