Mead delivers each of these songs with understated soul and that's what gives Close to Home its comforting spirit: it feels as cozy and nourishing as home itself.

It might not be a coincidence that the most emotive and well-defined songs are collaborations. "Needed" (Dan Wilson), "Patience" (Ólafur Arnalds), and "Save Me" (Doveman) are also the standouts on this abbreviated set, which feels almost as secondary as Blood Remixed.

A substantial portion of the album is either reverential or referential to a degree that it can sound more like an exercise in homage or a licensing tactic than a distinctive work.

All these sounds mean ANIMA sounds superficially similar to its predecessors (The Eraser, plus 2014's Tomorrow's Modern Boxes), but Yorke and Godrich are craftsman, offering a different perspective on a familiar subject. That subject is, naturally, a distrust of the modern world and a fear of a creeping dystopia, a paranoia that suits the troubled times of 2019.

If Down to the River isn't as adventurous or hungry or exploratory as any Allman Brothers Band album, there's nevertheless a deliberately cultivated warmth that's designed to appeal to Allman fans-and, given a shot, Down to the River may well appeal to that audience.

Gode was clearly a bold, daring step into unknown territory for Bratten, and Pax Americana is just as impressive, in addition to being much more accessible.

While Dusk to Dawn initially seems like the soundtrack to an endless vacation, it ends up unexpectedly vulnerable and revealing, allowing for introspection and spiritual reflection after the all-night party experience.

While its charms might take a few spins to unpack themselves, Andersson and Dornauer have applied their own unique set of filters and experiences to the dreamier side of post-rock on this solid debut.

It's the kind of sunny, burly record that gets the business done so efficiently (the album lasts a little over a half-hour) that you want to start it all over again once it's done spinning.

Although it paints a picture that best fits a degraded postcard, it's relatable in its own earnest way with a poetic air and a sense of urgency.

While Father of 4 is still far more interesting and better constructed than most other Migos-related solo offerings, it re-enforces the notion that the group's chemistry is a stronger force than any one of its individual members' talents.

This retro vibe is appealing and it also helps undercut whatever lingering sense of fatality hangs over the album, since it suggests that Ride Me Back Home isn't a statement, but rather just another enjoyable record in a long line of enjoyable records.

Small Mercies may not be quite as immediate as The Age of Anxiety, but it's fizzing with energy and ideas that prove that Pixx the right person to sing about what's wrong with the world.

There are enough hooks in this bouquet of confusing-if-passable genre-hopping tracks to keep him on the path to future hits, but nothing comes remotely close to the lightning in a bottle of "Old Town Road"'s accidental perfection.

Overall, Jambinai's third album is both grander and more restrained than its predecessors, achieving a vast, wide-open sound that is equally focused and direct.

Kicks feels like a lesser statement from Jones compared to the more ambitious original material of 2009's Balm in Gilead and 2015's The Other Side of Desire, but as a performer, she's still a unique talent, and the best moments here are a true delight.

It's a good-time record designed for daylight and, after the murky Turn Blue and its ensuing hiatus, it's refreshing to hear the Black Keys step out of the dark and into the sunshine.

The sheer breadth of the ensemble's expression on We Are on the Edge is staggering, a strident declaration that Mitchell and Moye will carry the AEC's powerful, boundary-less creative ethos full force into its sixth decade.

Return to Center can feel like a bit of a lark, but it's administered with enough gravitas that it's easy to dial into the flow.

On the whole, these aren't the boldest reimaginings of her songs that she could have delivered, but it makes for an extremely uplifting listening experience that works as a lovely placeholder until her next album--and as a calling card for anyone unlucky enough to not already be familiar with Weaver's sound and songs.

Fans of Veronica Falls can still lament that the band is gone for good, but Patience is a fine substitute that delivers the same great songs and deep feelings only in a different package.

The production throughout Daughters of the Sky seamlessly melds mallet percussion, trippy effects, and enticing synth textures, maintaining an atmosphere that's both organic and otherworldly. A handful of somewhat darker instrumental interludes are present, but there's still a cautious sense of determination to them.

The sound on this set is better than many other volumes in the series. And of course, the music is unassailable in both choice and presentation.

In less than a half hour, Curry establishes himself not only as one of the most capable and exciting artists of his generation, but also worthy of a place in Miami's rap pedigree, right alongside the local icons who inspired this gem.

In opting for a ruminative approach, Parry has crafted more of a guided meditation than a cosmopolitan fun house, resulting in a collection of songs that often feel less tangible than those that populated its antecedent. Still, it's an ambitious work that is undeniably widescreen, but far removed from the grandiose chamber rock of his meal-ticket band. It celebrates family, self, friendship, and the existential pain and wonder of life.

Not only were there not many musicians hanging in the studio this time, but all of Rise seems stitched together on the computer, with each of the three core members doing their part when they cleared time in their schedule. The result is a drag, the sound of a revelers who have no idea that it's well past time for them to head on home.

Buddy Miller lends all the support any artist could want or need on these performances, but he's smart enough to understand Julie Miller is every bit as deserving of the spotlight. On Breakdown on 20th Ave. South, he makes room for her to shine, and it's a very welcome reminder of her gentle strengths and singular voice. We need her in these days.

It simply finds Stickles and his crew moving from one position of strength to another, and it's as bold and exciting as anything they've delivered so far.