Other than basic songwriting credits, there are no liner notes, no band history, no lyrics, no indication of which album each selection originated on, a few unimpressive pictures in the skimpy four page pamphlet and an overall lackadaisical artistic presentation. ... Musically this is an impeccable set of classic, edgy rock that captures the essence of an eclectic couple that stayed honest and true to their uncompromised sonic vision. [Music: 5 Stars/Packaging: 2 stars]

“Truck Yeah” is a rare moment of goofy self-referentiality on the otherwise straightforward Two Lanes Of Freedom.

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

These particular sessions were graced by local legend, songwriter and Hammond organ ace Spooner Oldham and guitarist Will McFarlane, each of whom add to the atmospheric embellishment on the album.

A lovely, emotionally poignant album that moves Durant’s music far ahead of her somewhat gauzy, even reticent debut and into far more accessible waters.

Don't let this sweet, fiery gem slip away.

Shut Down The Streets really peaks at the end with a pair of downcast slow-builders which strike just the right balance of melancholy and melody.

If [Keith] Richards' participation helps revitalize these sounds and sends newcomers searching out the first versions well, that's just a bonus to a thrilling project that combines Neville's stunning voice with classic melodies whose sentiments remain timeless.

On Weighted Mind she showcases her obvious instrumental talents while displaying a newfound attention to reflective, beautifully conceived songwriting.

The songs are solid but the disc is greater than the sum of its parts as it congeals around Hubbard's confessional, often personal memories.

An album with a self-deprecating title that belies the ambitions and talent displayed within it by this band on the verge of bigger things.

It’s those more daring musical elements, perhaps inspired by label boss/friend Jack White, that bring a fresh, vibrant approach to Mae’s sound. Arguably she didn’t go far enough chasing it, but this remains an impressive second effort that successfully expands her folksy pedigree into more creative, and interesting, territory.

The album’s title implies a wider expansion of the SteelDrivers’ already elastic sound that doesn’t appear, yet the group has rarely sounded more focused or passionate. That makes The Muscle Shoals Recordings another notable entry into the group’s already distinctive catalog.

In the end, these four alt-folkies honor their idol's legacy, providing a gateway for a younger generation of fans to further experience and explore the importance of Woody Guthrie.

While perhaps not the most ambitious of albums, Ben + Vesper's Honors is the kind of record that shows that the artists behind it know where their strengths lie. The duo works fast and works well together, with lush, transportative harmonies that cannot be denied.

The ten tracks, heavy on ballads that comprise a third of the selections, seemed if not languid, then at least lacking the band’s dangerous edge. A few of Soup’s tracks have become classics. ... “Scarlet” with Jimmy Page sitting in for Keith whips up a funky enough froth, “All the Rage” doesn’t generate a boil, and “Criss Cross” sounds like an adequate Stones cover band. The rest of the extras are hardly remarkable different mixes, demos and instrumental tracks, generally of interest to collectors.

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.

An intriguing offering, it also finds them expanding their appeal in a very distinctive way. More earthbound than ever, these seductive melodies ought to find them dialing into an audience that’s been targeted by any number of other contemporary combos who are paying heed to today’s multi-cultural mainstream.

Once you get past the at times overwhelming sweetening added to make Cooke more palatable to a larger audience, you’ll be hypnotized by the singer’s creative phrasing, timing and sure sense of dynamics. Previously unheard selections, along with stereo and mono mixes, make this an essential item for the Cooke collector. And because these songs are from the once lost original tapes, this music has never sounded fresher or more alive.

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.

Some of the melodies and production tend to be a bit overwrought and there isn’t much in the way of a lighter touch. But it’s the Melissa Etheridge her fans have come to know and respect.

His latest album isn’t a pop masterpiece, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t a few enjoyable tunes that even non-fans should be able to find themselves hitting the rewind button a time or two.

There’s nothing “brand new” about the Mavericks’ music; yet in this era of by-the-numbers, narrowly pigeon-holed playing, the group’s inclusive, adventurous vision is refreshingly unconventional and truly alternative.

While there are few moments that challenge the band’s finest work, let alone justify the extended wait for new music, The Tipping Point reaffirms TFF’s collaborative talents. They remain idiosyncratic and distinctive in a pop music landscape now enhanced by having this veteran duo back in action again.

Crow returns to basics, crafting sharp sing-along pop-rock that defined some of her more memorable hits with a small but talented combo.

They’ve created the rare sort of album that manages to be both familiar and disorienting at the same time, an expansively cinematic experience that remains unpretentiously grounded.

It shows Nikki Lane at her best, stepping towards a darker direction while keeping one foot planted in the country and roots music of her past.

As with any of Jethro Tull’s early albums, The Zealot Gene demands more than a cursory listen. The intricate arrangements and articulate instrumentation result in a demonstrative display that continues to be well worthy of the Tull legend and legacy.

He continues his streak as one of this country’s most prolific and talented players, singers, and songwriters in an inimitable “electric swamp funkin’ blues” genre he pretty much owns.

Brother Johnny should send blues fans, or those new to his catalog, back to the initial recordings to appreciate the legendary guitarist’s talents at their most inspired.

With this impressive album of wonderfully melodic music, the band joins the growing ranks of harmony-based folk-rock outfits like the Fleet Foxes and the Civil Wars.

To their credit, Dry Cleaning is not compromising their often prickly art. Rather, like the most resolute artists, with the provocative and relentless Stumpwork, they admirably move their boundaries further afield regardless of appealing to a bigger audience.

Though nothing here (not even the one cover, Dutch band Mint's "Ah, You Left Me") wanders far from the work he has done with Cracker or Camper, this intimate album is a welcome addition to the Lowery catalog.

She still knocks it out live, but Kill or Be Kind finds Fish wrapping her talents around quality, well-crafted material that should help attract elusive radio play and more importantly a crossover audience outside of her established blues base.

He could have jettisoned the closing “I Gotta Go,” a jazzy vamp where he chats about having to get off stage at the end of a gig. ... Don’t let that minor misstep dissuade you from supporting Gales as he continues to fine-tune his songs and muscular blues rocking on an exciting album that provides a taste of his combustible live show.

Other than the oddball horn infused Mexican polka “Tienes Cabeza de Palo” that sounds like Tom Jones taking an excursion south of the border, Call Me Insane plays to established strengths.

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.

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.

Band of Horses have embraced a more mature, laid back kind of rock on Mirage Rock, and it's a comfortable, cozy fit.

On The Hypnogogue, the quintet creates fluid moods, moving in idiosyncratic directions while maintaining the shadowy gaze that has defined The Church’s style. Still, a few more songs like the relatively pop-oriented “C’est La Vie” would help elevate and energize the album by varying its consistency.

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.

2017’s Flicker fermented a folkier, more organic sensibility, and despite Heartbreak Weather’s soaring ambition, he roots himself to lyrics that sprout from similar emotional earth.

There is enough talent, subdued enthusiasm and commitment on I Still Do to justify most fans’ money and attention, with the understanding the fire and intensity of the Slowhand days only appear intermittently.

A little sincerity goes a long way, and the lack of a lighter conceptual touch doesn’t do this set any favors. But the exquisite Okie is nonetheless filled with emotions he evidently needed to express, which makes it an important entry in his bulging catalog and arguably his most intimate, deeply felt release.

For the most part, Run the Jewels 3 is not intent on breaking new ground but rather on cementing the fruitful dynamic between El-P and Killer Mike. It’s another victory lap from a pair of rappers who are mastering the form, one glorious album at a time.

This is the sound of growing old gracefully while still maintaining a sparkle in your eye.

It's hard to say whether Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros has hit their stride with Here, their second album--but it's safe to say that it brings forth just as much energy as the band's 2009 debut, Up From Below.

It’s a supple set of songs that’s as engaging as it is agreeable.

While City Music certainly doesn’t surpass Singing Saw, it’s a hell of a lot of fun to hear Morby take a walk on the wild side.

The warmth Nail musters vocally is matched by the pairing of production big and bright enough for radio with performances that feel unmistakably like the work of real, live musicians with personalities.

While most of the songs fall into the folk-rock category, the album still displays an impressive range.

Listening closely to A Small Death all the way through is like watching a melodramatic foreign movie; spellbinding and deliberately paced with an ambiance that leaves you reflective but anticipating better times are (hopefully) ahead.

If Gill maintained the rawness displayed on a few tracks and added more upbeat tunes, this would have been an edgier return to form.

There’s plenty to both enjoy and mull over as Cash’s thoughtful, often poetic lyrics spill out in a variety of settings. It makes this collection worthy of the man’s iconic status, which is saying plenty.

Give this West Coast quartet credit for honing its sound on this, the group’s third album.

Not only have Two Gallants returned refreshed and revitalized, but they push the boundaries on their groove, marrying subtle shadings and pounding intensity into a terrific set that will excite existing followers and should find plenty of new ones.

On The Dreamer, James includes some unlikely song choices, and most of them work.

As a one-off project, this is an enjoyable romp, especially for Cat Power fans. Chan Marshall applies her stamp on material she loves, the live atmosphere enhances the enthusiasm, the audio is crisp and the show successfully accomplishes what it sets out to do. But it’s no replacement for the real thing.

All in all, then, the record showcases a dynamism present but not fully realized on their critically acclaimed (and still excellent) debut.

As powerful as Dacus can be with the roar of a full band behind her, she only needs a guitar and a little bit of reverb to leave an impact.

Because of the lack of strong material and perhaps lack of preparation, The Blackbird Diaries ends up coming off like just one more project for Stewart, a gifted guy who needed something to do while visiting Nashville and making some talented new friends.

Casual listeners will probably wish Folds had used his obviously impressive improvising skills a bit more. But as the audience reaction here indicates and die hard fans will undoubtedly concur with, anything that floats their boat out to Folds island is a good trip.

These selections twist in enough unique directions to keep from sounding dated, stale, or worse, ripped off outright. Rather, there’s crackling life and inspired sparkle to the performances despite the multiple overdubs and the lack of a band to gel with.

Signed and Sealed In Blood is a record that should thrill the diehards even as the band evolves and escapes enslavement to the sound of their past success.

Ultimately, this set succeeds because of how natural and effortless it feels. Like Petty’s writing, these songs seem to emerge fully formed. Tasjan appears at home in this sonic environment.

These strummy rockers, highlighted by the group’s established three-part harmonies, are some of the most incisive and powerful in their catalog. Those who acquire music one track at a time need to rethink their position here since these songs weave together to form a tapestry that works as a beautifully constructed unified whole.

The Warren Haynes fronted quartet’s first studio album in four years and its Blue Note label debut is a typically gritty eleven song set of gutsy Southern blues rock.

Jurado manages to fill Visions Of Us On The Land full of musical surprises, but the unfettered emotion that sneaks in toward the end is the most welcome surprise of all.

The tracks, credited to the band collectively, are dense at times and often prove fairly impossible to untangle lyrically—exemplified by the opening “Ballerina Radio” (Radiator burns along your quilt / General admission of your guilt). It all begs the inevitable question: “Are they having fun yet?” Based on the evidence at hand, the answer appears to be a resounding “Hell yes.”

High Hopes plays very much like a sequel to Wrecking Ball, but Springsteen is less angry and blameful, more cheerfully weary this time around.

Overall, the playing and singing are well above average, which helps put across even the weakest material like the closing “Congratulations” ballad, the only non-original.

Multiple spins help define some of the melodies. Jackson’s voice is never less than distinctive and often riveting. At times this is a challenging listen because the personal revelations feel so intimate and private. But she locks into a rootsy groove that makes even the darkest concepts connect on an album that’s as honest, revealing and authentic as they come.

Now a husband and soon-to-be father, you might expect Church to express that serenity and joy in songs about married bliss. Not here, where he prefers to sing of bruised heart and booze-filled adventures, even better fodder for his gnarled drawl

Where You Stand is a welcome, beautifully crafted and timeless return.

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

For the first time, a new Spoon LP feels like business as usual, a creative step sideways.

There isn’t much in the way of surprises on The Happiness Waltz, though that’s no knock against Rouse; a songwriter of his caliber need not reinvent himself to create something rewarding.

Even though there’s little definitive here–Swift and Sansone’s approach to these Dylan chestnuts is more toned down than you might expect or anticipate– it’s a generally successful, instantly likeable meeting of voice, production and of course songs.

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.

While able to raise the hair on the back of your neck, The Fool, like many monstrous creations, sometimes lacks the necessary intelligence to be fully alive.

This is another in a long line of quality Chris Isaak releases that optimizes his well-established vocal and songwriting strengths, brings a bit of retro, rootsy cool, and ends up a solid entry into an already impressive catalog.

There’s no grand concept other than Bonamassa returning to the music that initially inspired him, playing it with the maturity and talent that 20 additional years brings. Whether it becomes as popular as the first volume remains to be seen, but the guitarist is best when he’s most comfortable as he is on this impressive set.

Forever Endeavour may be as solid a record as he’s has ever made, but it’s also more of the same, a retrenching rather than an expansion of his capabilities.

Keys to the Kingdom is both a tribute to and a continuation of the Dickinson musical tradition.

It’s miles from the bluesy/folk/country you might expect from a band with “Texas” or even “gentlemen” in its name. But proceed into Floor It!!! with an open mind and find plenty to enjoy.

While the blueprint of starting songs with sparse accompaniment and gradually building to resounding sing-along levels isn’t exactly fresh, the music is so well written that it avoids sounding like a cliché.

These 12 songs are as simple as it gets--just two musicians harmonizing and plucking away, making up in soul and pure joy what they lack in overstuffed arrangements.

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.

For the half hour that this beautifully oddball symphony persists, it's hard to determine where anything begins or ends--a track, an instrument, Davison's voice, or the music itself. And that's a good thing.

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.

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.

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

While the album is too long by at least four songs (Johnson has never been the best editor of his own material), he and his crew do well by Cochran.

While his 17 new songs don’t amount to a flawless masterpiece, they do paint a picture of a Post Malone who not only knows he needs to turn things around, but also intends to at any cost.

Mercyland: Hymns for the Rest of Us hits its stride once it takes an old-school turn courtesy of the Carolina Chocolate Drops, who kick up some serious string-band dust with a cover of the traditional gospel number "Lights In the Valley."

Whitmore might only occasionally let that rock ‘n’ roll animal out from time to time, but that scarcity--coupled with excellent pacing--is exactly what makes it so exciting.

Grace Potter's voice is the perfect compliment to the band's newly designed dual-guitar blitz.

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