Some of the lyrics are so direct that they scan as trite, yet they're expressed with soul-stirring, serve-the-song conviction, and he's in the top tier when it comes to pure skill. Moreover, the songs are of undeniably high quality, filled with joy, gratitude, and devotion.

Overall--despite the serious premise of addiction and recovery--The Wave is urgent and joyous, so achingly hopeful that it's hard not to root for Chaplin and his family.

Future Standards isn't quite "Howe Gelb, the Moonlight, and You," but it's closer than anyone might expect, and he plays lounge lizard here entirely on his own terms, and it's a thoroughly enjoyable detour for a multi-faceted artist.

While his vintage approach may recall some of country music's golden eras, Bell rises above other young, retro-inspired acts on the strength of his memorable songwriting.

As the album concludes, it's clear that the experiment was a success and that the microtuned instruments fit in perfectly with their oddball aesthetic.

This is tough, smart, impassioned rock & roll with a sense of purpose and lots of swagger, performed with the confidence of a veteran and the scrap of a newcomer. It's heady stuff well worth your attention.

Time will tell if the overall poppier disposition is a determined shift or a diversion, but, alongside the album's dark humor and utter lack of stagnation, it's one she handles with skill.

With a full set that rivals their best songs to date without significant reinvention, it's a must for fans and great place to start for the uninitiated.

While a long way from perfect, Big Walnuts Yonder is overflowing with great ideas and imaginative execution--enough so that one hopes this foursome heads into the studio again someday, or takes this very special show on the road.

An excellent first effort from a budding pop star.

While not as overwhelming as Craig's main albums, Slow Vessels is still a quietly powerful release that puts a spotlight on the raw emotional power of his work.

Folk Songs is a smart and emotionally effective exploration of the folk tradition that respects musical history without being chained to it, and it's an experiment the Kronos Quartet would do well to repeat in the future.

While Bloom isn't as thrilling as his debut Lace Up, fans of 2015's General Admission will appreciate the familiar blend of pop-savvy rap and the occasional guitar riff. Even though MGK assumes a dark and brooding energy for much of the album, the efforts toward introspective maturity are admirable.

Marley acquits himself well, turning in a strong modern reggae album that's informed by R&B and rap, but is very much its own thing.

Unpeeled is a great live album that not only encapsulates Cage the Elephant's ability to honor, reference, and tribute the sonic feel of Zeitgeists past, but ultimately reminds you that all it takes is a simple song with minimal instrumentation about introspection, yearning, or internal struggles to still achieve a huge, soaring sound that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

Considering the sheer volume of material, it's inevitable that not every track on Take Flight resonates, but it does contain a generous number of highlights. At least initially, it seems best to approach the album as background listening and let the tracks reveal themselves over time, rather than attempt to concentrate on them all on the first go-round.

Fantastic Plastic isn't going to replace Shake Some Action in anyone's heart or record collection (or Teenage Head, for that matter), but for a first effort after a layoff of more than two decades, it's a truly pleasant surprise and a genuine good time.

It's all somehow pulled off without coming across as aesthetically erratic.

The soft rock/cosmic country angle of In an Open Field is another chapter that further cements his mastery as a singer, composer, and producer.

Love Jail isn't magnificent by any means, but it is stronger than its predecessor. Dommengang's much improved songwriting, relentless pursuit of more spacious atmospheres, and richly textured backdrops inside the hard rock cave provide ample evidence.

The result builds nicely upon the group's heretofore psychedelia-dipped brand of indie rock, and retains much of their longstanding devotion to the late singer/songwriter Elliott Smith. This atmospheric, bedroom orchestral aesthetic also brings to mind more vintage touchstones like Nick Garrie's 1969 cult-classic The Nightmare of J.B. Stanislas, and even some of Donovan's more esoteric recordings.

With Violence, the Editors have crafted a big pop album on their own terms, rife with grand, operatic gestures and heat-seeking hooks that cut deep, just as they put salve on your wounds.

E's gifts as a songwriter and vocalist are still sharp, and if you've ever been partial to Mark Everett's slightly skewed but engagingly literate outlook on the world, then The Deconstruction should meet with your approval.

Erase Me can be considered yet another radical shift in the band's lifetime of variation, a risk that pays off with an open mind and open ears.

The result is a splendid little record that simultaneously feels brand new and like a lost gem.

Anxiety-stricken yet somehow finding ways to enjoy life, BMSR sound creatively re-energized on the excellent Panic Blooms.

No Sounds ends up seeming a bit scattered, even by the Orb's standards, but it's still plenty enjoyable, and enough to distract you from the nightmarish absurdity of current events.

Deeper cuts like "Voices at the Window," "Floating on Water," and the ethereal closer "You Ought to Know" deal in more abstract vistas, delivering different hues culled from the same retro spectrum, resulting in something that has more in common with the spacy, neo-psych-rock emissions of the Flaming Lips than it does crusty ethno-doom metal.