Russell's view of history may be romantic but it is also gritty as hell, and enduring. This is his masterpiece.

This is a record for longtime fans: it not only evokes warm memories, but it speaks to the band's present.

Gary McClure knows how to write a strong melody and a great hook, and he's no slouch on guitar; those are gifts that would serve him well under any circumstances, but on American Wrestlers he's shown that he can make a great record with any old junk at his disposal, and quite simply, that's just what he's done here

The stylistic range of Jekyll + Hyde proves that ZBB's reach is almost limitless, and this set will more than likely delight the group's legions of fans.

The band is undeniably tight and flush with ideas, and Hale is such a force of nature that the occasional foray into AOR snooze-ville can be forgiven.

The only disappointment here is that the album is basically only five songs, so here's hoping it's just a taste of more to come.

Ultimately, The Longest River is a brave album in which Chaney presents her music without filters, and reveals herself as a major talent who embraces the past and present with confidence and remarkable skill. In short, she really is that good.

Throughout Perfect Abandon's nine vocal songs, Brosseau's unhurried delivery transports the listener from her own world into his seamlessly.

Perhaps Musique de Film Imaginé is intended as a résumé item for the Brian Jonestown Massacre, but if it is, it's a fine sample of Anton Newcombe's work, and anyone who thinks Take It from the Man! or Strung Out in Heaven represented the limits of his abilities will encounter a pleasant surprise with this album.

As they navigate these darker emotional waters, it's hard not to wonder what Hemming and his crew would sound like if they loosened their collars just a bit.

The album cools down with ambient interlude "Miyajima" and midtempo closer "The Waiting," providing a patient ending to an album that gracefully deals with personal upset and disappointment.

Deep in the Iris honors emotional states that aren't easy to express--musically or otherwise--and brings a clarity to them that make it some of the band's most empathetic music.

The hard-driving, barely-holding-on-to-the-wheel songs are the main draw here, though, and the band delivers so many of them it's hard not to be breathless by the end of the album.

Scott could probably keep releasing this same kind of crazy, funhouse psych pop record forever and it wouldn't get tired, especially if he keeps writing songs this catchy and keeps giving subtle tweaks here and there.

If there's a complaint about Never Were the Way She Was, it's that it's too brief. These pieces last only as long as they hold interest for the players, though they all create a real desire for more in the listener--which is no complaint at all.

MG is an intriguing diversion that might appeal to Depeche Mode fans who were put off by the pure, minimalist techno of VCMG, and it could also come as a surprise to listeners who aren't DM fans, or haven't kept up with their later work.

Presented with genuine humility, these relatively simple songs are nonetheless brimming with moral authority.

Like Everyday Robots, there's an existential loneliness thrumming throughout The Magic Whip, but there's also camaraderie, a sense that companionship can pull you through, and that's especially true of Albarn and Coxon, who prove once again to be the other's ideal collaborator, refining, expanding, and sharpening their ideas, turning a potential throwaway to something quietly resonant.

Hospital Handshakes offers tarnished but steely hope forged from an extended period in a personal and spiritual wilderness. Its determination marks the end of this transition (and trilogy) and exposes a new and open road that will likely serve as instructive to the listener as it did the songwriter.

From the lonesome drift of the melodies and the brilliantly rendered dynamics of the performances to the uncluttered detail of the production (by engineer Justin Shane Nace in collaboration with the group), this is a splendid mood piece that excels in concept and execution.

Subtle, yet curiously persuasive, No News From Home is as unassuming as it is alluring.

Pokey LaFarge delivers something old and new on Something in the Water, and no matter how much he reaches to the past for inspiration and influence, he's able to make his music sound fresh and alive, and this is his strongest studio set to date.

No musical ghetto here as White Men Are Black Men Too suggests Young Fathers are quintessentially ahead of their time, even when their music is tight, attractive, and vital enough to be enjoyed today.

Cute he may be, but he has charisma that lasts no longer than a GIF, as Handwritten makes painfully clear.

Driver feels composed more than written, not in a way that elevates or alienates, but rather one that draws the ear to each presence in a landscape that shifts, unfolds, and surrounds; a quietly intense ride and mix recommended for headphone listening.

This is a confident, refined return--a necessary one in a field starving for group harmony singing. It's as solid as a reasonable longtime fan could expect.

Returning customers who like Tyler the ringleader, or Tyler the producer, will find this to be too much of a good thing, and can embrace the free-form Cherry Bomb as another freaky trip worth taking.

The album, though brief, is not only better than it had any right to be, but is close to perfect. Can't wait for the next one.