It's not all the hits, but as they run through "Just Got Paid," "Heard it on the X," "La Grange," "Tush, "I'm Bad, I'm Nationwide," and "Legs," it feels like they are -- but there's still energy and a palpable joy in how they launch into a groove or extend themselves in a jam and it's still a wonder to hear Gibbons solo.

The Resurrection of Rust doesn't suggest the world lost a potential classic when Rusty failed to make a record in 1972, but as a glorious recollection of a youth well misspent, it's hard not to love if you care about Costello at all.

Those expecting the organic post rock fusion of the bands McEntire and Prekop are best known for won't find it in the meditative lingering of Sons Of, but close listeners will hear the same airy melodic sensibilities and creative restlessness in these chilled-out synth tracks that are at the core of each player's best work with their respective bands.

TV Priest are still working on an individual sound judging from My Other People, and at the same time they're growing into a more accomplished and interesting band; their obvious talent makes them an act only a fool would ignore.

Much like 1999, 2000 is a showcase of musically rich throwback production, with jazz-flecked instrumentals and smooth boom-bap beats backdropping Joey's controlled bars and lyrics of New York City life.

Their renderings of "Don't Worry Baby" and "Wouldn't It Be Nice" may be ramshackle, but much like the originals, they're delivered with unguarded joy and wide-eyed innocence.

The album taps out at 25 minutes, but it's urgent enough that it clearly makes its point within that time frame.

Despite the dark undercurrents of the songs, the music doesn't try to fight the mood so much as it allows us to hear about a world where, in spite of the chaos outside, there's some simple beauty to be found even as things fall apart.

While typically low-key and rustic in nature, with touches of (mostly) atmospheric keyboards and electronics, the album is further distinguished by the use of brief instrumentals that make up about one-third of its extensive track list.

It would have been more interesting if 30 Something dug a little deeper into Orbital's catalog, but as it is, it's a good balance of nostalgia and futurism, and a treat for longtime fans.

Much of the album follows this complex formula of heavy emotions and sunny sounds, with Lauv finding a way to turn his dark memories, bad trips, and deepest regrets into something digestible and light.

Promise of the Real give Noise & Flowers the muscle the music needs, which means the album never sounds nostalgic or stiff: it's a warm celebration of the music made while Elliot Roberts stood by Neil Young's side.

Stars like Chris Brown, Shenseea, and Asake join him here and there, but for the most part, the collaborations are underplayed, leaving the spotlight where it belongs: on DML's silky vocals and mellow grooves.

Despite its occasional unevenness, the album is exciting in both its moments of audience-tested hitmaking and when Megan cracks the veneer of her invincible persona to share feelings that are difficult, messy, and real.

His most elaborately designed work to date, Cry Sugar incorporates grandiose strings, gospel choirs, and soulful wails into its fractured, chest-rattling beatscapes. Channeling the highs of formative clubgoing experiences, the best tracks on the record feature giddy synth melodies and overloaded drum patterns, along with ecstatic vocals.

This is also a fine example of the philosophy of "If it ain't broke, don't fix it," and Get Fucked shows the Chats know what they do best and are here to deliver good obnoxious fun.

It's Donnelly's strong songwriting voice -- both in terms of core music and lyrics -- that dominates here and is likely to re-engage fans.

Overstuffed remix collections like this are hit and miss by nature, but Bigger. Messier. acknowledges this with its very title, and its impressive cast takes the original songs in some fascinating directions, making the whole thing worthwhile for fans of any of the artists involved.

Leaving Why Bonnie's previous home-brewed and indie pop leanings behind, 90 in November and its solid songs mark a confident step forward into the domain of dreamy, twang-infused rock.

The slower, foggier, harmony-rich "Ofrenda-Flanger-Ego-à Gogo" is a more coherent entry, if utterly psychedelic, although most of the rest of Freeway Lucifer follows the example of the first song, expressing overwhelmed thoughts through a shape-shifting and ultimately surprisingly (if not entirely) listenable and cathartic sequence of tracks.

Earth Patterns rewards patience with some positively searing moments.

While arguably overlong, The Painter not only feels heartfelt on occasion but offers just enough variety, mainly through its guests, to sidestep sameyness while sticking to his signature sound. Trivia of note: Orbit also did the album's painterly artwork.

There was never any doubt that Bret McKenzie knew how to write a good song, and on Songs Without Jokes, he's more than capable of doing so outside of the framework of an outwardly imposed narrative or feeling obligated to make the listener laugh.

If you're a historically minded Lou Reed completist, Words & Music, May 1965 is a must. Others are advised to approach with caution and keep their expectations in check.

The Invisible Light: Spells is the sound of a man mounting a soapbox with a desire to make us turn away from our worst impulses, and the heartfelt focus of his message and the imagination of the music that frames it make it far too compelling to ignore.

Art Moore's ten meticulously sculpted tracks balance sadness and hope, softening the blow of Vick's lyrical gut-punches with glistening sonics and gentle musical counterpoint.

Though it lacks the well-edited flow of Heartbreak, it shows Unloved can still push pop's boundaries with vivid results.

A much more concise record than the sprawling, jazzy The Return, As Above similarly celebrates heritage and culture while looking inward and discussing personal issues.