La Vita Nuova is a fine complement to the Chris era.

Elkhorn spends The Storm Sessions softly constructing the sonic equivalent of the situation they were in: stuck inside with no way out, passing the hours while the snow silently piled up outside.

Thanks to the caliber of players in the new James Hunter Six, he is challenged and supported in equal measure. While Hunter may be unapologetically retro in his inspirations, he is unrelentingly modern in his use of vintage music; for him it is ever present in the music he makes, and that's the exact opposite of being nostalgic.

Between its warm sonic patina and the personal nature of its material, Silver Landings stands as Moore's most mature work to date, making for a strong if understated comeback.

Starmaker is a subtle, yet quietly powerful record that feels like it's been hiding in your record collection for decades, just waiting for the right rainy day to make itself known.

Comforting but inspiring, lively yet contemplative, Eyelet is easily Islet's strongest and most accessible album, and being invited into their world like this is a delight.

From This Place integrates and illuminates most of Metheny's musical personas. His compositions allow this stellar collective to roam through them with their many strengths. They ultimately provide fans an abundance of listening pleasure. Even in a catalog filled with so many gems, From This Place shines brightly.

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.

At once exploratory, expressive, physical, and reflective, On Circles never forsakes musicality for dramatic affect but achieves it in spades nonetheless.

Despite its unconcealed outrage, Gigaton does have its share of shade and texture even before it settles into a number of meditative moments on its second side. ... Aural adventure adds a nice counterpoint to protests and pleas offered up by Pearl Jam, and helps Gigaton feel vivid, alive, and just a shade hopeful.

It's new territory for a producer known for his willingness to experiment, and finds Weber's unique voice growing as he plays with new instruments, tones, and ideas.

Dixie Blur is Wilson's most personal and direct collection of songs. They are wrought poetically from memory and inspired by the excellence of the sublime performances from his sidemen.

While some of Werner's solo efforts, brilliant as they are, can seem cold and challenging, Smith's vocals on the album draw out the levity and excitement for exploring new ideas that might not be apparent otherwise.

In The Color Out of Space, Stetson's score is, in its empathy, an actual character, one that accompanies the protagonists as a witness, portraying every encounter with an alien force without ever being intrusive.

Horse Lords make music for liberation, celebration, and revolution, and The Common Task is a prime example of their all-encompassing vision.

As his ex-1D crew continue their own solo careers, Horan maintains his position near the top of the pack with yet another relatable collection of emotive vignettes about everyday love.

The Night Chancers is the kind of record that hits instantly thanks to its smooth and strangely comforting surfaces, then each subsequent listen takes it deeper as Dury's delivery and outlook become more and more embraceable. He's struggled to make his own way in the music world, free of his father's influence. It seems safe to say that records as good as this prove that Baxter has arrived with a voice and sound of his own.

It is apparent that The Ghost of Orion was born in the aftermath of strife, strain, and fear; but these are balanced by gratitude, endurance, and even benevolence; the conflicting tensions exist with no attempt to alleviate them, and all of these qualities are among the many reasons My Dying Bride has, for more than three decades, reigned at the pinnacle of doom metal.

Singing for My Supper is unapologetically rooted in the past, but James is just idiosyncratic and genuinely talented enough to avoid pastiche, as he effortlessly amalgamates Southern blues, country, folk, pop, and jazz into something that evokes Jason Isbell by way of Lee Hazlewood or Tim Buckley.

It's uplifting, ebullient music for the mind to dance to, and an absolute pleasure to behold.

Arguably, this edition of 8: Kindred Spirits, though only a first set, is one of Lloyd's strongest live offerings to date.

Infinity of Now is more adventurous, disciplined, and focused than any of their previous outings. Its dark and murky sonic vision is at once completely out of step with everything else, as well as miles ahead of it.

This is a fitting postscript and testament to Masekela's legend, and the music on this date, while historic, is absolutely defined by its title.

Tesfaye fills much of this neatly sequenced, ballad-heavy set with penitence and longing. He sets the tone with an escapist fantasy that turns into a nightmarish relapse, and is tormented for much of the duration by seeking and receiving salvation and ruination from the same relationship. Some of Tesfaye's most vivid and piercing lines are herein.

Myrkur's Folkesange is a balm for the soul, a stark and heartfelt offering of solace and comfort amid chaos and darkness; its warmth, resonance, tenderness, and lucidity envelope the listener in reveries of nature, mysticism, and love.

While Velvet's vintage vibe is impressive, it would only be stylish window dressing if the songs weren't as catchy and inspired as they are.

Arbouretum comes on as gentle as a rolling creek, never letting on the full range of their powers until the songs have silently grown from still waters to cresting waves.

While alternating between regretful slower tracks, midtempo drawls, and livelier, foot-tapping fare, the album never moves off dirt roads and adjacent orchards, and proves to be her most carefree-sounding effort to date. That's despite doggedly self-examining lyrics that keep Saint Cloud squarely in the realm of prior releases from an artist who continues to ward off complacency.