It's another triumphantly jubilant album by a band who are second to none when it comes to that kind of thing.

No one was likely to have guessed that Wreckless Eric would be on a creative hot streak four decades after he made his debut, but that is indeed what's happening, and Transience manages to be surprising while also reflecting what Goulden has long done so well.

Older, wiser and more concerned with the greater good than selfish excess, Duff McKagan's punk edge hasn't left him, but instead has been refined into a loving world view that believes there's still a chance for humanity. This bright outlook combines nicely with some of the strongest and most disarming songwriting of McKagan's winding career.

Stray Cats spit out allusions to their idols and classic oldies, nod at surf rock and country mythos, play a few blues shuffles, and generally have a whale of a good time. It's notable that these high spirits are evident on a reunion album because they were largely absent on the trio's previous reunions: this time, it sounds like the group is in it for fun, and that makes a huge difference.

The best moments of Rainford prove that Perry's creative flame is still burning bright, more than five decades after he first began making music.

Overall, Where the Action Is is another reliably interesting and well-written addition to the band's latter-day renewal.

With the exception of a couple specific later singles, this is the best and most comfortable the O'Jays have sounded since the '70s.

Though some fans wishing it were still 2008 may disagree, most fans will embrace Whitechapel's new progression as natural, necessary, and welcome.

As bleak a listen as it is, Enderness is an affecting piece of art reflective of its time, and the fact that Bondy's house burned down the day after he finished recording it almost feels like some inevitable if unfortunate occurrence.

By the time she closes In Plain Sight's world of illusions and nightmares with the deceptively gentle "Harmless," she pulls off the trick of turning Honeyblood into a more cohesive, more imaginative prospect than ever before.

Emotionally, Act Surprised feels just like Sebadoh, but if you ever wished they'd make an album that would sound big, loud, and suitable for blasting on your car stereo, this is a sure step in that direction.

The 12 songs on The Saint of Lost Causes coalesce into a larger story of malaise that's powerful without turning histrionic, and this is powerful music that's both timely and timeless.

Despite all of its lofty mysticism, Levitation never feels exclusive. The walkabout that served as the narrative throughline on Majesty has morphed into a full-on hallucinogenic dance party, with that journey to enlightenment now being extended to the listener.

Full Upon Her Burning Lips is sumptuous, a return to basics informed by Earth's decade-and-a-half period of discovery. The album's impeccable balance of those poles places it among the band's finest recorded offerings.

Somewhere in here is a 40-minute program with greater impact. Getting to know the whole thing well enough to make a custom-contracted edition is worth the time.

Intense, emotional, and often revelatory, Ecstatic Computation further establishes Barbieri as a truly visionary artist.

Much more forceful and revolutionary than Doomsquad's previous efforts, Let Yourself Be Seen is easily the band's most engaging and focused work.

An album that requires and rewards close listening, We Fall is an evocative reminder that there's much more to Wiggs' music than the Breeders' elliptical orbit.

Tyler and a motorcade's worth of supporting vocalists fulfill the promise and threat with what plays out, a creatively vital and emotionally heartsick set with as much pain, vulnerability, and compulsion as a classic soul LP.

Whether the songs are designed to motivate, mourn, or comfort, they're all sustenance. The everlasting potency of Staples' voice is a marvel.

Amyl and the Sniffers is a promising opening salvo from a young band who match a rabid hunger with the chops to back it up.

He's sounding a bit like a curmudgeon, but he embraces his eccentricities, which means this contrarianism wears well on record, even if it doesn't in real life.

The album is spacious and remarkably constructed, with hidden compartments built for secret sounds that seem to unlock with repeated listenings. Easily Le Bon's most involved, risky, and satisfying material up until this point.

Destroyer is Black Mountain's tightest, gnarliest, and least sprawling outing to date.

His talents as a rapper and lyricist are still stunning, and much of the production is solid, but the album ultimately feels like a one-sided conversation with an insecure friend. You love them, but kinda wish they'd just go to therapy and get back to you once they've worked some of those issues out.

Fear in a Handful of Dust seems like a departure for Tobin, but even while he's abandoning conventional rhythms or genre signifiers, his music remains unmistakably human, and as challenging as the album might seem, it's easier to listen to than one might expect.

Jumping from dusty folk to booming R&B might feel jarring, but Webster's versatile personality is the core of Atlanta Millionaires Club, and the entire album flows through its changes as naturally and pleasantly as a cool breeze in the depths of summer.

All the supporting work is understated and studious, ideally compatible with Carner's substantive ruminations.