Needless to say, Still Woman Enough is all one might expect of a concept collection like this, and it should be obvious at the outset that there’s a remarkable wealth of material to be had here. Fans will, of course, be throughly delighted, as well they should be. And newcomers, if there are any at this point, will marvel at this able expression of country craft and creativity. Suffice it to say, the title says it all.

While the result doesn't justify the buildup, there is no doubt that frontwoman Brittany Howard is a major talent.

There are moments enough to both hoist your beer and shed a lonesome teardrop throughout Miracle Temple, an album that’s overflowing with both emotion and beauty.

Aside from his forays into electronic music, Mould is dabbling a little bit here in the sounds found throughout his career. Many of Beauty & Ruin’s tracks have a poppy tinge that’s more reminiscent of Mould’s 1990s band Sugar.

We’re treated to a combination of short, instrumental segments and lyrically-driven, radical, long jams that sound familiar, yet unpredictable enough to demand further listening

These songs are as trippy, wonderfully produced and well-written as anything in his catalog.

Circuital sounds like a reaction to the extravagances of its predecessor. My Morning Jacket tamper their more evil urges and settle back into being a solid rock band.

Existing fans will take this in stride since it’s cut from a dense cloth that Dulli has been stitching for the majority of his nearly 30 year career. They will find plenty here to pore over and try to untangle. Newcomers may scratch their collective heads yet still appreciate Dulli’s unconventional, minor key songwriting, distinctive vocals and playing that, even with guests on every track, comes primarily from his mind and hands.

Established fans will appreciate the trip back in time and perhaps acquire new respect for the more obscure tracks such as “Persuasion.” But those new to Richard Thompson are just as likely to relish these terrific songs played and sung by a master still at the top of his game and wise enough to realize he actually can improve on the originals.

His unique pop prosody and production skills, more sophisticated than ever in Pony, foretell that his sound will continue progressing to new creative heights, with the heft of catchy pop music and the inventiveness of its growing indie subgenre.

The material is consistently strong, thanks in large part to her ability to integrate her originals with a well-chosen collection of covers. And while she doesn’t feel the need to lean on standards, the material does have meaning.

The album’s eclectic nature never feels random. Rather, it highlight’s Foster’s natural inclusive qualities and showcases an artist who, nearly two decades into her recording career, has refined and elaborated her vision of empowered redemption, both of which are in full flight on the superb Joy Comes Back.

Tape Deck Heart [is] the kind of album that doesn’t just tell us what it feels like to have your heart cut out, it practically puts us on the operating table during the surgery – which, of course, happens before the anesthesia kicks in. And he does it so well, we willingly bleed right along with him.

Despite a half decade of keeping relatively quiet, Orton has emerged with a fresh approach, and a batch of songs both intricately gorgeous and, more importantly, a hearty distance from familiar.

Downhill from Here is well attuned to that template, flush with troubled tones and unyielding urgency. Whether rocking or reflective, the sound is well served by many of the same session players that have played with him in the past—bassist Bob Glaub, guitarist Val McCallum and pedal steel player Greg Leisz chief among them. Several women share the singing, altering the dynamic but not the intention.

It’s an all killer-no filler set that’s the culmination of everything Nick Waterhouse has accomplished for the past nine years. He might have plenty bugging him, but with soul music this joyous and exuberant, you’ll be too busy riding the groove to care.

It has a silky-smooth sheen about it, but there’s an earthy, analog vibe that keeps its songs grounded, and more importantly, makes them sound absolutely sublime, no matter how ornate or ethereal.

Middle Brother is a prediction of great things to come. It's a promise that a new generation of songwriters is rising up to carry and brilliantly build on the tradition.

Ford and her band have increased the quality of their brazen, breathless blend of garage-soul to an even more satisfying level with the new Untamed Beast.

Finn is still as sharp as ever with his details and as striking as ever with his lyrical gambits.

While there aren’t drastic changes to their sound, there’s a sense of sureness to the songwriting, playing and Charlie Starr’s singing that reflects a decade and a half of the same dudes slinging it out together on the endless highway.

High Flyin’ offers an interesting insight into one of Young’s many outside ventures and a good representation of a brief chapter in his ever-changing trajectory that hasn’t been shared to any great extent before. On the other hand, it doesn’t represent any dramatic change in his template, as the replay of his aforementioned classics confirms so convincingly.

He’s not reinventing any wheels, but Road is an enjoyable, even impressive, release from an aging rock star who still, to trade on the album’s theme, has plenty of gas left in his tank.

Ultimately, The New Pornographers specialize in creating a most satisfying sound—the effusive rush of “Bottle Episodes” and “Angelcover,” being two of the more obvious examples—while also making music that begs repeat listens in order to fully grasp the magnitude of their overarched intents.

In the end, though, the spirit is most definitely still there, and any Allman Brothers fan or blues fan needs this album. It's an event as much as a recording and a good representation of the artists that made Allman want to be a musician in the first place.

While doubters might see this as a quirky, flash in the pan, Tiny Tim styled anomaly, there is no denying the goofy delight and enthusiasm that jumps out of the speakers on every track of this immensely enjoyable, if decidedly unconventional, album.

Watch the Throne is one of the more interesting, envelope-pushing mainstream rap albums in recent memory.

Nick Lowe continues to age gracefully and for those still yearning for the Basher of yesteryear, there's always the Labour of Lust reissue that came out earlier this year.

The CD chops out the voluminous chatter, which is one of the strengths of the 1 3/4 hour DVD, but works just fine for on-the-go playback of a dynamic concert.

By any measure, this is an engaging, complex, lyrically confrontational and intellectually intense 80 minutes.

The mix of upbeat folk-rockers with moodier fare makes this such an impressive and convincing album.

After half a century, it’s clear that he still retains an eternal energy and enthusiasm. It’s little wonder then that this 50 Year Trip proves such an exhilarating journey at every stop along the way.

And so it goes for nearly 40 minutes. Clearly, this is not easy listening, but neither is it impenetrable either. Rather, Oberst’s naked presentation and generally obtuse concepts feel genuine and are worth mulling over for a deeper understanding of his expressive and largely enticing thoughts.

This CD/DVD combo, recorded in September 2011, shows the 73-year-old Shaver still has plenty of gas left in his tank.

They ditch most of the quirks for grimy blues on Wonderful, Glorious, making it one of their best albums in years.

The Union brings up two very good points again and again: No amount of celebrity shenanigans or animated transgressions can eclipse the fact that Elton John is an absolutely amazing musician and there's a never-ending list of reasons why Leon Russell is your favorite musician's favorite musician.

Ultimately, Local Valley becomes a place where melody and mystique are woven well in tandem and relentless reflection gives way to a sense of clarity and comfort. Be assured the depth of devotion is never in doubt.

It’s still early to throw accolades like “visionary” around but aspects of Clark’s music encourage that reaction. “This music sets me free,” he continues on “Healing,” and it’s likely to have the same effect on you.

Amok isn’t an album to be analyzed so much as experienced, preferably with headphones maximizing its occasionally mesmeric effect.

Sun Midnight Sun, which deftly combines all these forces--bluegrass, folk, indie rock, pop, country--into something that sounds smooth and comfortable in its identity, where others might just sound jumbled.

Millsap’s subtle style allows the listener to discover the emotional vortex of his often confused characters, helping us identify with their motives without casting judgment.

With any luck, he’ll have plenty more gas in his tank to release albums as rugged, diverse and memorable as this in the foreseeable future.

There aren’t many surprises on My Way, but that’s unimportant. Nelson’s in terrific voice, he clearly loves the material and delivers each of the 11 tracks with beautifully nuanced authenticity.

It's been a cold three years since 2008's garage-synthy third album Midnight Bloom, but their new effort Blood Pressures is more than worth the wait.

Elsie sounds like a step down from his Gaslight Anthem fare, lacking the emotional and regional details that make that band's songs sound so lived in.

The album unravels its charms slowly and deliberately and after it’s over you’ll be beckoned back to soak in more of its sublime, beguiling mystique.

Every line seems to come straight from the mouth of that guy right over there, you know, the buddy of your buddy-the one you always wanted to ride around with while he told his stories but never got the chance to. Well, here it is. Are you game?

What's offered on Ceremonials is solid, even a cut or two above solid. But it doesn't move the band forward.

For the most part, it works. But "Warrior Man," a jumbled idea that could've been a great song, is the sort of cautionary tale that keeps this album from matching Shame, Shame's standards.

There are enough twists to keep even longtime fans on their toes. It’s what makes them so consistently intriguing and will hopefully keep the members inspired, and inspirational, for the foreseeable future.

It’s when you start listening a bit closer that the nuance of the writing, the subtlety of the arrangements, and the magical interplay of the two voices, in harmonies alternately high-spirited and heartbreaking, start to break you down and leave an indelible impression.

Albums like this one continue to burnish a musical legacy that is every bit as imposing as the ones to which Earle pays homage in these songs.

While there is an aural sameness that occasionally feels repetitious, the material is so exquisitely composed, effortlessly recorded and emotionally sung, this isn’t a major shortcoming for an album that gets more impressive each time you hear it.

It’s an immaculately produced gem and there’s nothing currently out there like it.

Through much of Till Midnight, Ragan is still kicking up dust and throwing down, and pretty much doing everything except buying into the stereotype of the mature, mellow troubadour.

While the songs aren’t the most complex ever written, even among The Whigs’ catalog, they are perfect for cruising with the windows down.

In Postcards Pieta Brown has created a trip through her most personal and revealing moments with an honesty and confidence most wouldn’t even attempt.

Molly Tuttle was right to take time before releasing her first complete CD. The production, playing and songwriting coalesce into a striking statement that shows an already developed artist well on her way to the next level of her still nascent career.

Like the music of Nick Drake, these subtle songs creep up on you after repeated listenings. Their supple strains, low key choruses and overall atmospheric vibe gradually become intriguing and often hypnotic. Still, a few upbeat selections would have helped make this medicine go down much easier.

25 can seem like 11 singles instead of an album at times; all the big-name producers and co-songwriters muscling their way in doesn’t allow for too much restraint.

This 30 minute set [provides] a crazed, occasionally unhinged yet always riveting experience.

Even though this is done and dusted in just over 30 minutes, the raw rocking and joyous attitude will stick with you long afterwards.

Regardless of Lou’s input, this sounds like another solid Lofgren set.

Maybe they’re mostly polished pop songs where the ’67 cuts embodied the raw, haphazard spirit of a songwriting era long gone--one that intuitively anticipated the impeccably executed Americana and folk heard on these new recordings--but the idea behind their origin will help them remain as timeless as the originals.

While it may be a brief career diversion instead of a new direction, Butch Walker adds to his long list of accomplishments with an album that’s as impressive in its laid back way as any of the tougher, edgier, more aggressive entries that dominate his catalog.

At fifteen tracks, the formula could easily have run stale were it not for a couple of sneaky surprises.

It is also one of his most consistently rewarding efforts since the heady early records.

Despite the downbeat album title, Johnson has crafted winning, uplifting music that’s inspirational, even rousing, under any name.

Taken in tandem, The Million Things That Never Happened ranks as one of Bragg’s most thoughtful efforts, no small accomplishments considering the remarkable records that came before.

This is tough, unvarnished music played for keeps, not for the squeamish or those afraid of the sight, or sounds, of blood.

Workaholic producer Dave Cobb keeps Shooter’s sound polished proving that for better, and sometimes worse, Shooter Jennings can play by the country-rock rules when he wants to.

Hesitant Alien features some of Way’s best material yet.

Their eighth studio album is somewhere between an extension of their previous indie gems and another baby step towards radio-friendliness.

It’s Bragg’s voice that’s most prominent of course: warm and resonant, but also mournful at times, tinged with regret, that of an old soul looking at the world and shaking his head at its follies.

Tastefully arranged, fully cohesive and concise.

Some tracks, like “Teenage Summer” (the first single and video) and the tuneful “Oh Hi” highlight choruses that immediately entice like the group’s biggest hit, “Don’t Dream It’s Over,” did nearly four decades ago. But generally, Finn and sons spoon out pleasant, low-key, pensive material that’ll take a few spins to connect with.

Though songs are on the lengthy side (around five minutes), they don't drag, and there is enough powerful bass and drums to complement electronic noise.

With the orchestra, Vanderslice is able to maintain the best-friend-telling-secrets feel of his previous work, while expanding the sound to make it feel more like an orchestral soundscape of all your best friends telling you the same secret. Or maybe the secret is just much, much grander.

This 2-hour double disc captures all the excitement and improvisational interplay of the gigs.

Even diehard Neil Young fans may not fully appreciate this offshoot in his bulging catalog. But this remarkably vibrant and immediate live compilation shows that Young took this side road very seriously and it was more than just a forgettable, momentary quirk in his diverse and winding career.

He’s just a diehard rock and roller with a cool voice and an itchy pen slamming out another pretty great album because that’s what he has always done.

Typical of many timeless albums, the whole of The Exodus Suite is greater than its impressive parts. Carve 50 minutes out of your life and spend time reveling in its thought provoking, often mesmerizing and riveting pleasures.

Fans who have stuck with Morrison for any length of time will eagerly welcome his recent spurt of creativity with You’re Driving Me Crazy (the title song has been covered by everyone from Billie Holiday to Frank Sinatra, Big Joe Turner and Louis Armstrong) as another worthy notch in Van Morrison’s remarkable and ever-expanding career belt.

Nothing quite tops those two selections but there is enough strong Bonamassa playing and diverse material (like the lovely, Allman Brothers Band “Midnight Rider” lope of “Savannah” featuring Bonamassa’s rarely heard mandolin work), to make this album a highlight of his bulging, and ever expanding, catalog.

Tigers Jaw bites down hard and also gives devotees plenty to chew on.

The best moments on Faster find a reasonable niche between Fish pushing her boundaries and including enough roots music to keep earlier followers from abandoning ship.

Neal Francis’ balancing act of meshing a retro mindset with a modern sensibility doesn’t always work, but when it does, his music reflects a fresh, if not always compelling, perspective.

Granted, they haven’t hit the heights they climbed courtesy of such early mega milestones as Don’t You (Forget About Me),” “Glittering Prize,” “Somewhere in Summertime,” “Waterfront,” and “Alive and Kicking.” No matter, Kerr, Burchill and their newer recruits still manage to stay true to the band’s overarched intents, but do so based on premise rather than pretense.

his is as organic, honest, and powerful as soul gets. Between Roth’s guidance and Lee Fields’ riveting performance, this is a contemporary/retro-tinged classic, one that any lover of the genre will find timeless and inspirational.

The end result is an album that demands a concerted listen in order to fully appreciate all the tones and textures it has to offer. With Spectral Lines, Josh Ritter continues to blur the boundary between melody and mystique.

Supernatural Thing veers in a decidedly different direction. His cast of characters has a lot to do with that, due to the fact that he frequently cedes them the spotlight, but here again, his mood is clearly brighter all around. And that ensures Supernatural Thing doesn’t remain so ominous after all.

On Death Song, their greatest strength is harnessing the aesthetic they’ve worked for more than a decade to refine, and it’s as rich and powerful as they’ve ever sounded.

For the all the bang of "Saturday Sun," "Elephants," with its slow-paced piano, closes out Intriguer, drowsily, though perhaps fittingly so.

The retro inferences of this one male/two female trio's name appear prominently in their spunky, punky, fuzzed out, garage rock.

A perfectly pleasant, largely successful return to form that’s a delight for existing fans yet ultimately missing a bit of the “je ne sais quoi” that made the best ELO music so timeless and classic.

Even after over a decade away from the solo focus, Back Being Blue feels less like a return than a natural progression. That’s not to knock Willis’ two fine collaborations with Robison, but it’s a pleasure to have her talent front and center and not sharing the spotlight.

Even though this is unlikely to appeal to hard core Black Keys or Arcs fans, the songwriting effort (the sweet, sensitive “Never In My Wildest Dreams” could have come from Burt Bacharach’s pen) and detailed creativity of the arrangements is impressive.

It’s impossible not to be enchanted by one of this year’s freshest, most delightful and all around grooviest releases.