Expanding on the breakthroughs of III, Zeppelin fuse their majestic hard rock with a mystical, rural English folk that gives the record an epic scope.... A song or two feels slightly different--"Misty Mountain Hop" jumps a bit as it seems to groove a little bit stronger--but by and large this [supplemental] disc shows that as a producer, Page not only knew where he wanted to go but he knew how to get it right the first time.

Coming in at 24 minutes and with seven cuts on the track list, this is EP-sized and not long enough for the full artist picture, but that said, there's no filler, either.

In short, without seeing Atlas's film, Turning is simply a live recording of Antony and the Johnsons on-stage in London, but thankfully, given their talent and their commitment to their craft, that's more than enough to make this a remarkable experience.

Not only does Wyatt sound even more comfortable with the album format, his uncanny valley of past and present, feeling and observing, is blurrier--and more impressive--than ever.

Nick Jonas is at its best when Jonas plays it straight, when he relies on his eternal Prince and Stevie Wonder fixations, which give him not only a fairly rich palette to draw from but provide him with a good direction to channel his melodic skills.

Burnett and the New Basement Tapes remain faithful to the spirit of The Basement Tapes yet take enough liberties to achieve their own identity, which is a difficult trick to achieve.

The energy and spark that Ought base their sound on carries much in common with the best of their influences, finding new ways to sound fresh and exciting even in this short sampling.

The Carpets have also crafted a set of songs as strong as any of the records they released in the '90s, which means this is a surprisingly effective comeback.

What Hookworms might lack in image and clarity, they more than make up for by making music that isn't built to linger in the background. It demands attention and deserves it, too.

That it doesn't always evoke the exotic myth of the Welsh Indians is an attribute; he's wound up creating his own wildly romantic vision of America from the story of Prince Madoc and John Evans, and it's something to behold.

Possibly too understated, Woolhouse could benefit from more pronounced changes and variations in his writing, but taken as a whole Songs is a warmly rendered mood piece full of layers and quiet yearning.

A fascinating if not entirely comprehensive set of oddball, largely homespun-sounding sonic emissions that feel a little half-baked, but still awfully tasty.

Cadillactica is an album where an artist launches a superior second act while losing none of the essential elements that made the first so powerful.

A creative step forward for Such Gold as they step back from the poppier accents of their 2012 debut, Misadventures, and embrace more complicated song structures and deeply personal lyrical themes.

The hardcore fans might notice the difference but, apart from those three songs, there's not much reason for them to pick this up because Forever consists of songs they've purchased many times over.

Fans who were drawn to 2:54's introspective blend the first time will see this as a natural continuation of their deepening, subtly changing world.

Rhubarb Rhubarb, sounds like a condensed version of their first.

While both sides [of the album] are well executed, neither makes as much of an impact as it has in the past. It may not be ...And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead's most exciting album, but there are still enough bright moments here to keep fans engaged.

My Favourite Faded Fantasy may come on as a bit underwhelming at first but that's the intent: it's not designed to grab, it's designed to soothe and then slowly worm its way into the subconscious, which is where these eight songs reveal themselves to be as strong as anything else Rice has written.

It's a strong finale in the duo's signature style and whether or not this truly is the end or merely the end of their album era, The Inevitable End sits among the best in Röyksopp's catalog.

Give My Love to London is as complete a portrait of the artist--at least from the late '70s on--as we've ever had. In total, it reveals no abatement in her creative renaissance.

Gilmour and Mason know this is their farewell, so they're saying goodbye not with a major statement but with a soft, bittersweet elegy that functions as a canny coda to their career.

As it is, BRONCHO need to head back to the studio with some Red Bull and a producer who can light a fire under them, because judging by their first album, they can do better than this.

Powerful stuff itself, Stalley's excellent debut proves Funkadelic's hypothesis of "Free your mind and your ass will follow" while taking Dr. Dre's advice of "Keep their heads ringin'" to another level.

Disarmingly subtle yet flush with enough confectionary touches and left-field presence (not to mention pure craftsmanship) to warrant cult status among smart-pop aficionados, Niagara goes down so easy that most listeners will need more than a few spins to realize how rich of a tonic it is.

It is certainly their most well-rounded and diverse, one that adds some pop-machine savvy without losing any of the insouciant charm they've had to spare in the past.

The serious vibe and timely message of Hang make it an album that fans of the band (and punk in general) won't want to pass up.

Ultimately, it’s Haerts' combination of straightforward, rootsy melodicism and more experimental, ambient inclinations that helps them grab your ear and your heart.