The polish and punch of latter-day Dan remain, but things are indeed different. Becker's tart presence is missed, Fagen's voice is wispy, and the smooth professionalism does indeed seem as if it was designed to feel at home at venues like the Mohegan Sun casino.

Time Clocks slowly comes into focus after the short atmospheric instrumental "Pilgrimage" sets the stage for a moody, cinematic record.

While Public Storage doesn't represent the songwriter's hookiest material, its affecting album-length presentation lingers -- emotionally and sonically -- nonetheless.

Heavy Load Blues is raw, heavy, and immediate, the sound of a band unfettered while pursuing a deep blue groove that never quits.

The sacred has always sat comfortably with the profane in Rod Stewart's art, and he's holding true to that on The Tears of Hercules, an album that's alternately baffling, absurd, sweet, and endearing.

Whilst it doesn't always stick the landing, the new spaces it does explore are well worth the journey.

With a more engaging set of songs, Barnett might easily transpose herself into the mode of introspective singer/songwriter, but alas, Things Take Time, Take Time just feels a little too dull.

The detailing and variable arrangements here, combined with engaging songs, lift A Way Forward above the level of genre exercise, occasionally into something more compositional, as on the final two tracks.

Music for Psychedelic Therapy isn't as overwhelming as Hopkins' previous two albums, but it's still an enlightening trip inspired by a lifetime of profound experiences.

Everyone involved shines, but for Wasser, it's a feather in her cap and an excellent way to kick off the next phase in what continues to be an exciting career.

Rundle has tempered her sweeping post-rock cinematics with lyrical vulnerability in the past, but Engine of Hell is a braver and bolder beast, as it lays bare the soul of its creator and dares the listener to reckon with it.

Still Sucks stands as a fun and highly enjoyable addition to the band's discography, delivering exactly what a Limp Bizkit listener wants to hear.

You Get It All does practically everything a Hayes Carll album should do just right, and its unpretentious excellence makes it one of the best and most satisfying albums he's released to date.

At the age of 63, Billy Bragg is not a young man anymore, and The Million Things That Never Happened reflects that but in a way that reveals new themes and thinking in his lyrics; it's a brave, smart, and effective set of songs.

It's never sappy but offers a message of spiritual succor to those who need it, and it's a great, rewarding listening.

The combination of the airiness of the arrangements and the warmth of Mann's performance is wistfully hopeful, turning Queens of the Summer Hotel into a record that soothes and consoles during moments of uncertainty.

Outperforming what was an impressive debut, Which Way to Happy takes its immersive qualities to another level.

By the time they close with the fiery Motown vamp "Love Don't," Rateliff and his band have covered a nice range of moods on what is their most diverse release yet.

Missteps prevent Voyage from being a triumph yet they are true to the rest of ABBA's catalog so, in a sense, they're welcome. If ABBA didn't have cheeseball moments, they wouldn't be ABBA, so it's reassuring that the group brings the lows along with the highs on this unexpected and delightful album.

Conviction is always evident in her soothing voice, even when it's modulated to a jarring extent or sounds somewhat garbled.

Confident, inward-looking, forgiving, yet bruising in all the right places, it's not just a great album by Cantrell's standards; it's a great record, period.

Titling her second album Water, she acknowledges that she's in her element, and more assured of her work than ever. Post-transition, her voice has developed into a more delicate yet deeply expressive instrument, and her soaring vocals magnificently blend with her rumbling beats and atmospheric, neo-classical arrangements.

A pair of mellower tracks near the end, the dembow-inspired "All My Friends Know" and the lush, string-laden "Nineteen," are more restrained yet just as considered and affectionate, pointing to a potential direction for an artist whose emergence was one of the most welcome left-field surprises of 2021.

Here, Sheeran's melodies are soft yet insistent, and the production glistens with flair borrowed from younger, hipper artists who mine a similar blend of retro new wave and modern R&B, but he knows how to turn this stylish sound into something cozy and reassuring.

Taken together, Valentine represents both a bold musical step and a signal that Jordan is ready to move on in more ways than one, at the same time that it leaves some of her distinctiveness behind.

They're still blazingly idiosyncratic, but in taming the sprawling improvisations of the past, they've discovered their pop acumen.

Whatever his method of delivery, Meek sounds like he's walking a tightrope with his head on a swivel.

At their best, they entrance to such an extent, like watching a slalom skier at half-speed, that the plainly worded sex talk is as inconsequential as any random boast about wealth. Toliver sounds anesthetized more often here.