Based on its variety and power, Strand Of Oaks’ Heal seems like that special kind of album that can serve as a temporary buffer for others just as the aforementioned artists did for Showalter.

Bauer has been sitting on these feelings for over a decade, but he chose a great way to share them.

X presents Ed Sheeran in somewhat of an identity crisis. Still, it’s fascinating to hear him work out whether he’s a hopeless romantic or just a guy who thinks romance is hopeless.

There are highlights here but not enough to leave all but the most rabid Black Crowes fans hoping for much better from a once riveting frontman who can’t seem to consistently catch that ever elusive groove he so effortlessly used to harness.

The high bar he has set with a tremendous back catalog makes us yearn for just a bit more out of Mutineers.

This may be a side project or a one-off, except in many ways the sum exceeds the (very distinguished) parts in terms of emotional effect.

This is challenging Americana that never takes its audience, or its influences, for granted.

Band of Brothers is Willie Nelson’s first album of largely self-penned tunes in almost two decades, but on his latest, Nelson mostly proves he’s still as sharp a vocalist as ever.

At times, the sudden shifts are rather dizzying.

Little more needs to be emphasized about the lasting importance of these prototypes other than this third reissue tweaks the sound with Page’s new remastering revealing nuances in the playing and arrangements that further enhance their already substantial historical cachet.

Little more needs to be emphasized about the lasting importance of these prototypes other than this third reissue tweaks the sound with Page’s new remastering revealing nuances in the playing and arrangements that further enhance their already substantial historical cachet.

Little more needs to be emphasized about the lasting importance of these prototypes other than this third reissue tweaks the sound with Page’s new remastering revealing nuances in the playing and arrangements that further enhance their already substantial historical cachet.

Lambert’s new record is a challenging statement from one of the very few female singers that has a stage to be widely heard. That her statement manages to weave together nuanced humor and sarcastic wit with huge pop hooks only makes it that much more impressive.

Though these songs cry out for DVD treatment, this audio-only collection is still an unparalleled document.

The eight songs, culled from a crop of 30 that came in the wake of a difficult breakup, become dirge-like if you put them on in the background. Shut out the distractions and bring them in close, and they become razor-sharp reflections of the long road out of purgatory.

Happy Ending sounds like a bunch of top notch, jittery Squeeze songs dialed down just a notch.

Those less focused might find their attention taxed, but this is a meticulously crafted and uncompromising work that shows Henry to be at the top of his game releasing challenging music not made for prime time.

Buffalo Killers aren’t offering you anything you haven’t heard countless times before. Whether or not you want to pick up the phone to have that conversation again will be determined by how much you value novelty.

Existing fans won’t be terribly disappointed since there are just enough high points spread throughout the 11 songs to keep the faith. But even they might agree this is far from the act’s best work and even a few notches below its more creatively stimulating predecessor.

This is more than just a stroll down memory lane since the emotions and lost love laments remain timeless, as does the sound of a man who understands his musical strengths and plays to them with class, authority and soul searching intensity.

Ultimately, without the abundance of the fitful, electrified abandon that permeated White’s past records--plus the fact that this album is clearly just another tiny sliver of the lexicon that may someday reveal his true scheme--some fans may feel moored on a lazaretto of dissatisfaction. Yet in the meantime, at the very least, Lazaretto is a damn catchy segue spot to await the arrival of the next intricate puzzle piece.

If Only Run proves anything, it’s that Clap Your Hands Say Yeah are still making music on their own terms--they just have the budget and freedom to pull it off with a little more flash.

When it’s all over, you listen again, with equal amazement. No, albums like this one don’t come along very often.

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.

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

It’s another classy notch in LaVere’s slowly growing catalog belt and shows her boundary pushing, restless artistry results in music that’s heartfelt, reflective, challenging and consistently compelling.

Improved songwriting and assured ambition have turned them into formidable recording artists as well.

Are We There is definitely an album that will reveal itself to you with closer attention and multiple listens, as opposed to Tramp, which was a little catchier with its obsessions right from the get-go.

All in all, The Nihilist allows Finn to stretch out and explore his ambitions on a scale that dwarfs anything he has released to this point.

Simpson lets his band, and his songs, do the talking on Metamodern Sounds, which is surely one of the very best straight up country records of 2014.

Syd Arthur give themselves room to stretch out on Sound Mirror, with sonic textures thick and varied enough to enjoy getting lost in on repeat listens.

It’s Holland at her most beautiful; that’s something worth savoring.

Blue Smoke easily hits its mark of making us look within ourselves while laughing through our tears.

While there are moments in which Coldplay take some interesting steps forward on Ghost Stories, there are a few moments when the band rests a little too heavily on easy listening or pop music clichés.

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

Turn Blue is the most masterful representation to date of the duo’s successful transformation from lost-in-the-milieu garage rockers to game-changing, widely appealing songwriters.

On Dark Arc, the craftsmanship and lyricism reveal a uniquely singular band informed by Appalachian mountain music and the explosive recklessness of punk.

In the end, Unrepentant Geraldines goes far to re-establish the sense of intimacy that won Amos her audience’s unwavering devotion; there’s a level of honesty characterizing the project that should jibe well with them, and she’s in confident voice throughout without ever sounding canned or over-calculated.

Between Lane’s sexed up sassy testifying on cuts like the opening “Right Time” and “Sleep with a Stranger” along with in the pocket production that walks a nifty tightrope between ’60s countrypolitan and ’00s gutsy Americana, this is a combination we’d like to hear more from in the future.

On Indie Cindy, there’s not a lot of danger, or passion--or excitement for that matter.

Though he’s reportedly less than eager to release a ballad, some of the best moments of I’m a Fire are “Burnin’ Bed,” written by powerhouse Brandy Clark and Shane McAnally, that boasts a beautiful, progressive chorus and “The Secret,” that deals in death, infidelity and hidden love.

There is a one-take charm to the performances on A Letter Home, an album that’s more of a tribute to Neil Young’s ever-loving idiosyncrasy than to any of the artists covered.

Somewhere between the clear narrative of Boy's Night Out's Trainwreck and the Dear Hunter's ongoing musical saga, it's one of the most compelling realized moments Trophy Scars' madness has produced. [May 2014, p.94]

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.

This rampant musical eclecticism is fun and keeps things from getting boring but it’s also occasionally too scattershot, even though most of the players remain the same throughout.

A rollicking set that nearly two decades in, stands as some of the Old 97’s finest and most exhilarating music.

This is unquestionably slow going and perhaps best taken in smaller doses, but it’s ultimately rewarding for those willing to take advice from a guy whose darkness and internal demons have remained key components to his emotionally naked creativity.

Like a lot of Frusciante’s solo output, Enclosure sometimes sounds more like him working through ideas than a presentation of conclusions.

It may be startling news to fans who expected something more raw, more twangy or more of the same, but in this case, the startling news is that the new Tristen is startling good.

Ledges may not match the intensity of his stage performances, but the album does portray Gundersen as an exacting songwriter who never lets self-reckoning curdle into self-regard and as an imaginative producer with a careful hand.

What she’s come up with isn’t always completely successful, but it keeps you wanting more.

While it remains to be seen if any of these eleven tracks yields another legendary moment on the order of the ones Crowell has already penned, the organic Tarpaper Sky is a welcome reminder that at 63 he remains capable of releasing beautifully crafted music that can stand toe to toe with his best.

Do To The Beast is nowhere near as tortured as the band’s masterpiece, 1993’s Gentlemen. But it’s still comfortable in the shadows, and for that matter, kicking up a good bit of noise.

A closing cover of Sam Phillips’ plaintive and rarely heard ballad “Where is Love Now” shows the group knows how to dig for a great song, even if the originals that dominate this disc aren’t immediately as accessible. This isn’t the band’s finest (half) hour, yet it’s great to have them back.

Eight tracks straight of gut-punching, emotive arena rock can be exhausting--especially when it leans so heavily on emo aesthetics.

Gilkyson uses her nocturnal musings to create a shimmering album that sounds just as impressive in the daylight as in the darkness that inspired it.

Those previously not exposed to Browne’s music, or fans of these performers he influenced, can start here for a terrific taste of one of America’s most stunning and keen lyricists.

The album has one major issue--it’s got too much going on in places.... But despite that flaw on this effort, it has a lot going for it.

Simone’s vocal, arranging and composing talents are so consistently strong that you’ll be swept away and lifted by the sheer quality of these lyrically dense yet musically fleet footed stories.

Somewhere in between the high times and the death throes lies Out Among The Stars. The songs contained are mostly simple pleasures, but they’re pleasures nonetheless.

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.

A beautifully fashioned, classy and meticulously crafted background music, perfect for Sunday brunch among the NPR crowd.

The Hold Steady need not ever deviate from such a potent product.

There are moments of levity on Riser, like the fratboy-ish “Pretty Girls” and “Drunk on a Plane,” but those songs betray what works so well everywhere else on the record.

The accompanying live DVD, recorded at Shoreline Amphitheatre in 1992, is a good-enough bonus, rather than a must-have live document. These are minor quibbles of course; a whole stack of tacky badges couldn’t stand in the way of Your Arsenal being absolutely essential.

Steve Dawson’s fleet fingers, dexterity and sheer musicality make this a must for acoustic guitar aficionados and a treat for everyone else.

Everything here is painted in varying shades of gloom and lit by flickering candle flame, but every now and then, illuminates something quite gorgeous.

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.

Hag’s lyrics always feel natural and lived in and Bogguss succeeds with his material because she doesn’t try to oversell it.

A brilliant record that serves as a perfect blueprint on how to make something new out of something old.

Your enjoyment is decidedly dependent on how you appreciate her sweeping, multi-octave singing and tunes that reflect the give and take of relationships in ways that make soap operas seem subtle.

These guys clearly know their roots, and English Oceans is all about getting back to where they came from.

This set confirms she’s a rugged, uncompromising young talent with a distinctive voice and take-no-crap attitude primed and ready to take Americana into the next few decades.

While this is surely not for everyone, those whose tastes aren’t constrained by traditional notions and are willing to go with Ziman’s somewhat oblique, even aloof flow, will find plenty of reasons to spend the requisite time getting comfortable with her unique style and genre expanding approach.

St. Vincent is an overwhelming listen the first, second, maybe even third time around.

It takes a few tracks for the album’s energy to ramp up, but by the time you reach “To Be Young,” the pop craftsmanship and solid performance have drawn you in.

There is lots to enjoy here as long as you keep your expectations in check and aren’t looking for a rollicking new Heartbreakers release.

Layers of distortion and droning feedback pour from the speakers, almost fighting the melodies for dominance (and losing), with everything coming together in an organic, unforced manner. [Mar 2014, p.90]

With newly remastered sound and a second disc of worthwhile rarities including live tracks, remixes, B-sides and the like, even fans would do well to take the plunge on this refurbished, expanded reissue of an album that Frame, despite multiple later attempts both under the Aztec Camera moniker and later his own name, never could build a career on.

For those prepared to hunker down and get immersed in Angel Olsen’s laconic, often downbeat echoes on depressing life events many of us have experienced, it’s a startlingly uncompromising, if occasionally uncomfortable peek into her haunted dreams.

Those who need a soundtrack for a rainy night alone can take comfort in the pure reflective intimacy of this alluring and frequently enchanting album.

Given that Morning Phase reveals similarly raw honesty and engrossing emotion [as Sea Change]--plus bears the mark of superior penmanship gained by a decade’s more patience and wisdom, the album is poised to be revered as one of Beck’s most potent collections.

It shows that a talented, visionary singer-songwriter can comfortably do what she does so well, yet not be trapped by conventionality.

It’s a whiz-bang romp perfect for the Claypool faithful to devour, and may even attract some of the more roots oriented not already onboard his distorted fun-house mirror music crazy train.

As a debut for five musicians who are busy with their own careers, let’s hope there is a follow-up sooner rather than later.

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

It may not be an album most would expect from Neil Finn, but it’s clearly the one he wanted to make.

It’s the personal narratives that are the most poignant.

With After The Disco--Broken Bells’ second full-length album--Mercer and Burton up the ante with a set that builds on the promise of their debut and fleshes out that aesthetic into an even stronger set of songs with loftier ambitions.

Overall the Haden Triplets don’t bring enough of anything special to these songs to make the album an overall success.

From His Head to His Heart to His Hands shows that what Bloomfield did accomplish in his short life was not just sizeable but downright seismic.

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

Matthews’ ageless voice remains warm and inviting as he winds his way through this hour long set, creating a wistful yet never regretful mood.

Goodnight Tender may not be a radical sonic departure but by recording an entire country album, Amy Ray can check another box on her career genre list, and do it with pride in a job beautifully done.

It’s as strong an album as Cantrell has ever released--even if it took nine years to get here.

While almost all of the music is five-star material, it’s hard to recommend this collection wholeheartedly when anyone paying attention long enough could have easily picked up every item in the set individually.

There’s something rich and nourishing about it. And that’s true of all of Doug Paisley’s music, which is strong on melody and comes from a place of genuine emotion. Whatever you choose to call it, music like this is universal.

Producer Flood (PJ Harvey, Sigur Rós) maintains the band’s raw appeal but lightly varnishes the sound to make the music’s intricacies truly glow amidst the atmospherics.