For his part, Jennings deftly plays to the duo's strengths and surrounds them with a complementary sonic environment that dips and swells in all the right places, helping to keep the Mastersons just slightly adjacent to Americana's more obvious paths and in their own unique little world.

Hollywood Park dials back the trashy glam rock of its predecessor in favor of big earnest indie rock with the occasional flourish of gothic folk and Americana-laced post-punk.

This aptly titled set is perfect for driving fast on long, lonely stretches of highway with the windows down and the wide-open night for company.

Covers is a treat for fans, and reaffirms that Marshall can find the Cat Power -- as well as new meanings -- in the music that moves her.

With guest spots from Margo Price, Billy Strings, Old Crow Medicine Show, Sierra Hull, Dan Tyminski, and Gillian Welch, Crooked Tree can feel a little busy, but the playing is reliably top-notch, and the songs, which approach trad-bluegrass themes from a female perspective, are both potent and timely.

Oh Death is the kind of uneasy listening record guaranteed to clear the faint of heart out of the room while peaking the interest of anyone not scared to dip a toe into dark and ugly psychedelic music. It may not be pretty and it may not always be nice, but it's always thrilling and might just be the band's best record to date.

Trouble on Big Beat Street sometimes meanders, and not all of its detours are rewarding. Nevertheless, this is some of Pere Ubu's most rawly experimental music in some time; for fans who want to feel like they're listening in on the band working out these songs instead of being presented a perfected product, there's a lot to love.

Wispy, strings-and-chimes-enhanced indie popper "All Over" is contrasted stylistically by the pop slickness of "Climbing Trees," which is replete with synth shimmer and vocal processing. Throughout, however, punchy hooks and melodic "whoa-ohs" accompany lyrics delivered with an ever-present frown and the suggestion that the title Supermodels was chosen to evoke alienation.

Tuttle and company have released another assured collection of songs that pair virtuosic musicianship with relatable and erudite songwriting.

Vera Sola's blurring of past and present sounds especially apt to the early 2020s here, but more often, Peacemaker's dreamlike world has a timeless appeal that fans of Calexico, Timber Timbre, and Marissa Nadler will love.

A welcome standout in Eels' body of work.

Throughout BITE ME, Rapp serves up plenty of wry pop charisma, which is more than enough to sink your teeth into.

Barry Can't Swim presented a volume of the Late Night Tales mix series, showcasing music he's fond of but wouldn't necessarily be appropriate for him to drop in a club. While there's a little of the type of lush, organic house that he produces, much of the mix is more downtempo, often exploring Balearic chillout territory, but also venturing into a few other directions.

His singing is of a piece with the music, at once clearer and more conventional than ever before and still touched with the reflective spoken-to-oneself melancholy that defines his work.

Calling Forever Sounds a masterpiece would probably be wildly premature, but this is a deeply satisfying work that reveals new pleasures with repeated listens, and reminds listeners this band is still expanding on what they do best.

For all its thematic focus and political commentary, Wheeltappers and Shunters is quintessentially Clinic; at once pointed and oblique, its bad trips and cheap thrills are a subversive rebuke to a sanitized notion of the past, present, or future.

Though this emotional nakedness is an unusual move after Made in the Dark pushed Hot Chip to a new level of attention and acclaim, it also shows they’re in it for the long haul.

At best, a rich man's Air. At worst, tedious, superfluous, hippy-dippy, overly ironic trash. Lemon Jelly .KY can be both, of course -- often at the same time...

While Luke Steele's influences show through on all of Lovers' tracks, somehow the album avoids sounding totally derivative; instead, it just reveals Steele as a pop chameleon and an expert at pastiche.

2004's early front-runner for art rock album of the year.

Historical Conquests is above all a fun record. It's got all of the heartache, acute observation, and crushing truth that fans are used to, but it never preaches without a wink and, most importantly, sounds as good blisteringly loud as it does drifting out of a clock radio in the garage.

Live at the Gluepot is a crucially important document for fans of New Zealand's fabled indie pop heyday, but anyone who likes good, heavily snarky rock & roll will appreciate this recording of Toy Love going out in a blaze of glory.

No doubt, Lord Steppington is a niche album, but whenever a combination of 3rd Bass and Adult Swim is required, this one shows its pimp-hand with some dry, elevated humor.

There's really no one else who does exactly what Tindersticks can, and No Treasure But Hope confirms they can not only create music of striking and forbidding beauty, they can do it in a hurry if need be.

It's tempting to want these songs to have the space to breathe. Nevertheless, McMahon always takes his music wherever it needs to go, and Death Jokes is the bracing sound of Amen Dunes actively engaging with the world and its problems.

Wincing the Night Away is the sound of the Shins acknowledging where they've been and moving on to new territory, and while it probably won't change your life, it probably will make it more enjoyable.

The band beautifully marries its dense and intricate compositions with Abraham's sledgehammer vocals to create something that feels like the next evolution of the genre.

There is a purity to their sound and vision that gives the album its power.