The band wears its middle age well, sounding focused and more exacting than they did in the '90s, yet still undeniably vigorous. That Soundgarden sustains that energy throughout a marathon is a testament to their strength as musicians and that Live From The Artist's Den maintains its interest throughout its two and a half hours is a testament to the depth of their catalog.

As a reflection of the times, Ghosts VI: Locusts might be the more accurate soundtrack to a world on the brink of an uncertain future, wiping away any goodwill fostered by the deceptive serenity of Ghosts V: Together.

On All Thoughts Fly, von Hausswolff yearns to express the unspeakable -- that which lies not just beyond words but stands apart from them. She offers a musical authority that can only be fully realized when openly acknowledging and submitting to one's own vulnerability.

Although there are fewer flat-out astonishing moments here than on the earlier LPs, numerous cuts elicit blues-shedding movement and seem unfadeable.

The care and intention applied to all aspects of Earth Trip make it the lightest set from Rose City Band to date, sustaining a mood that's consistently joyful and relaxed, even through various fluctuations in energy and emotional intensity.

If Jenny From Thebes may be a bit more cryptic than his best work, every song contains a yarn worth hearing, and his quietly bold, ordinary-guy delivery is surprisingly flexible, adjusting itself to fit any situation he presents.

Fun, naughty, and a little nasty, 3AM stretches the typical party-friendly novelty sound that Confidence Man perfected on their first two albums, showcasing artistic growth with a laser-focused intent to keep your body moving late into the night, when it feels like anything can (and will) happen.

Ultimately, Can I Get a Pack of Camel Lights? represents a deepening of Geologist’s already unique musical language. He uses the hurdy gurdy as an entry point for many of the songs, but always proceeds to strange, new places from there.

The remastering is bright and crisp, and it stands the test of time. .... The songs intended for 15 Big Ones are a bit of a mixed bag, with covers of songs like "Mony Mony" and "Running Bear" falling flat, due to the band's basic disinterest in what they were doing. On the other hand, the cover of the Righteous Brothers' "Just Once in My Life" is quite beautiful. .... Another reason to get excited about the collection is that tracks from the banished Adult/Child get a proper airing here.

There's a lot of ground covered here, of course, yet the band never loses sight of its destination, and those who can keep up are in for a tuneful journey.

Much of Blue Banisters has this kind of casual, first-take energy, and functions more like a mixtape than an album as Del Rey cultivates a sustained atmosphere, but still makes room to try out new ideas and inject some unexpected moves into her established sound.

It's a poetic work of circling guitars and melodic phrases and vocal lines repeating and layered like monastic chants.

This set bears all the hallmarks of Stetson’s artistic singularity--athletic, circular breathing, polytonal and harmonic exploration, focused composition, vocalizing from the horn.

How Do You Burn? suggests he needs a fiercer and more energetic team of underlings if he's going to remain a force to be reckoned with.

Largely due to Duffy's restrained, inward-facing vocals, Fun House is at its best on songs with soft-spoken, atmospheric designs, but the experiments here are far from missteps.

All in all, though Bugg's debut may not share the wordy precociousness of Conor Oberst's formative steps or the political astuteness of Willy Mason on Where the Humans Eat, it's his sheer earnestness and rare gift for writing simple, hook-filled tunes that ultimately charms the listener.

A striking, satisfying album that balances the boldness of a debut with the experience Rocketnumbernine has gained since You Reflect Me.

Taken all together, it's a formidable, empowering set, one that's taking charge of the present and not interested in rehashing the past.

The album is unique in that it gives a very personal look into an individual's experience with catharsis, and it's one more of murmurs and heavy sighs than screaming matches and broken dishes.

Occasionally, MassEducation borders on being too stark for its own good, but the songs hold their power in this unvarnished setting.

This is not a novelty or a throwaway, and even though there's technically no "new" music, Nine Inch Noize goes beyond the idea of a "remix," carrying over three decades of material into the future with the help of an unlikely creative muse.

Its beauty is multivalent: while the music is made of constant motion, it creates an utterly still space in the listener, who can not only eventually recognize its numerous patterns emerging and dissipating, but can follow them down through various levels of consciousness as they resonate inside and outside the body.

McClinton doesn't try to reinvent the wheel on Prick of the Litter, but he doesn't have to; his voice, despite his age, was made for songs like these, while the charts and band performances are equally inspired. This is a memorable date in a catalog full of them.

Nothing Is True & Everything Is Possible is either the best or the worst Enter Shikari outing to date. What it certainly isn't is dull.

The Witness is a consumptive listening experience, designed with precision and purpose in the same way as the immersive albums that came before it by Portishead, Talk Talk, Radiohead, and other artists willing to take their time systematically disassembling and rebuilding their music.

Tarantula Heart's five tracks contain more than an album's worth of weirdness and power. It's a wild ride, even for the Melvins, and further solidifies their status as seemingly invincible practitioners of heavy, messed-up music.

To call I Tell a Fly a difficult listen may be understating it, but within this madcap art-pop song cycle, which is purportedly about two flies in love, are some genuine payoffs for those with the patience to stick with it.

Like so many records of 2018, it is clearly cut together on computer, with dense rhythms competing with smooth surfaces--but also not chasing pop trends. Instead, it's a mature modern album, one filled with questions but also curiously settled, a combination that makes World's Strongest Man more rewarding with each listen.