Start Walkin’ excavates the finest moments of some inconsistent albums to prove her iconic status is well earned.

It’s an interstellar pop journey well worth taking.

Sun June defines its enigmatic, shadowy sonic borders but never pushes beyond them, which causes the disc to occasionally lapse into tedious uniformity as it progresses.

Like her chosen alias, The Weather Station’s music is fluid and variable. This latest twist is an unexpected, yet welcome change of climate in her ongoing career.

The new record is clearly an attempt to not only maintain their loyal legions, but also to expand their following through a more melodic MO. To that end, there’s a decided emphasis on providing the songs with compelling choruses, ready refrains and a sound that finds them operating within more catchy confines. To be sure, the band continues to rock both fearlessly and ferociously.

While it may be a while until the current pandemic eases its grip on hard touring musicians like the Delvon Lamarr Organ Trio, there’s nothing stopping you from pushing play on the exhilarating I Told You So and diving into the surging soulful sounds of one of most talented, driving and funkiest acts around.

By turns both heartbreaking and heroic, it boasts the signature sound of an artist whose music has always been soothing, seductive and immediately engaging. In this case, quality is matched by quantity, given the fact that the album boasts some 18 tracks (plus an added demo), each as winsome and wistful as the next.

Despite its dark, cautionary subject matter, The Future Bites is Steven Wilson’s most powerful and commercially appealing set to date. Beautifully produced—it’s one of the first studio albums of new material mixed in Dolby Atmos surround—this is the bristling sound of Wilson taking a bite into the future of prog-rock.

Still Corners stitches a seamless amalgamation of lyrics, vocals, production and song composition, all of which makes The Last Exit an early contender for one of 2021’s finest, and most enduring releases—one to listen to, absorb and bask in.

From an Old Guitar may be a stop-gap release during the pandemic, but it’s also a consistently enlightening and even inspirational listening experience.

Matthew Sweet is a journeyman musician whose impressive resume speaks for itself. On the nearly solo Catspaw though, his insistence on being a one-man-band, seemingly dismissing input for songs and especially production, would benefit from other objective ears.

Obviously this isn’t for everyone. But Trost and Barnes push boundaries on the often inspirational, always interesting, occasionally off-putting Petrichor. Those with open minds prepared to take the leap into this artsy sea will come away richer for the experience.

He has released one of the early contenders for finest debut of 2021. The appropriately titled Introducing... justifies the spotlight status he clearly deserves.

All in all, Greenfields is an admirable effort, and hearing these songs again, even in an altered context, serves their memory well. Any gift from the Gibbs, past or present, is still well worth cherishing.

The heartbreak is palatable and one can’t help but be moved by both the confession and the candor. Indeed, the poignancy is not without purpose.

Though it’s by no means essential, McCartney 3 will likely still win over legions of compulsive Macca collectors.

It’s apparent that this fine fusion succeeds, perhaps beyond the parties’ initial expectations.

At their best, live albums serve to encapsulate a career. In this case however, What To Look For In Summer offers something more, an actual elevation to the accomplishment. Look… and listen. Summer is an album for all seasons.

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]

By turns arched, ambitious, intriguing and expressive this sprawling 20 song set recalls the band’s earlier epics with melodies that boast the same elevated intensity that’s driven their signature sound from early on.

Despite, or perhaps because of, the scattershot musical smorgasbord, Calexico delivers a fitfully enjoyable album, one with enough artistically entertaining moments to make it worthwhile, even if its overall approach is more unfocused than festive.

Campbell seems reluctant to imbue a significant imprint of his own. It leaves little that hasn’t been rehashed dozens of times before. That makes Wreckless Abandon nowhere neither as daring or distinctive as its title otherwise implies.

It’s an interesting mix of music, and, as might be expected, a dynamic and diverse concert that stands among the most dynamic of the live music extracts culled from the Hendrix archives thus far.

In the end, Jewel Box is a lot to sift through, but ultimately it’s well worth the effort. Go through the couch cushions and save up some coin. Elton’s jewels provide a worthy cache indeed.

Pine Needle Fire slots flawlessly with his established catalog while adding a fresh, somewhat reflective approach; music that could only have been crafted by someone with the experience, class and integrity Bramblett brings to everything he touches.

Thankfully, the abundance of material doesn’t lead to any lapse in quantity, although some songs are admittedly more essential than others. Taken in tandem, they serve as yet another reminder that for all the unpredictable paths Young’s pursued throughout his career, his reputation as an astute songwriter puts him in the upper tiers of rock’s most reliable artists of the past 50 plus years. Save up your coin, folks. This one’s essential.

LIVE DRUGS with minimal audience feedback and crystal clear, at times thunderous, audio is a thrilling representation of the band, at its back-rows filling finest. It’s a terrific substitute for those who haven’t caught them on stage, or have and yearn to relive the experience.

It’s an excellent live document, and though it’s devoid of otherwise familiar material, it brings attention to an unlikely artifact that deserves renewed attention. Consider this a most remarkable return.

Starting Over finds Stapleton not only maintaining his momentum, but also opting for diversity as well. While his influences are as obvious as always, he breaks out of the Southern rock mold he established early on.

Even though it was recorded during dark times for both Dobson and the country, Impossible Weight is the strongest and most powerful statement yet from a talent on the verge of breaking out.

It might also be argued that Hey Clockface is Costello’s attempt to redefine himself as a more mature performer, one cognizant of the fact that he has an aging audience seeking subtlety and sentiment. Indeed, as the title suggests, time is ticking away, ensuring relevance becomes more a priority than rambunctiousness.

Even completists might quibble with the fact that several of these bonus tracks appear to overlap those on the previous edition. The fact that two additional covers are included — a loose cover of “Money,” expanded from the 40th anniversary extra, and an extended read of “Rock Me Baby,” each well in keeping with the blues motif that encompassed the album overall — may be cause for persuasion, although certainly not on their own

Sonically, everything is slightly cleaner than before, with Lennon’s vocals made more prominent in the mix. But the difference will be most noticeable on expensive audio systems. The surround mixes bring a more expansive sound-field making it a reasonable upgrade for those interested. But for the rest of the earbuds-are-good-enough wearing public, this is a perfectly acceptable trawl through the solo Lennon catalog.

Despite a few glaring omissions (no “The Slider”?), most of Bolan’s recognizable work is represented. Willner’s flair was matching artists with unlikely song pairings and having them gel perfectly, such as Lucinda Williams running “Life’s a Gas” through her moody, Southern-swamp personality.

One of his most accessible albums, one that’s still as delightfully, deeply odd as he has always been.

Joni Mitchell is working in a basic acoustic folk idiom here, albeit with some wonderful compositions. While the “buyer beware” warning isn’t needed since the contents are clearly noted in the box’s title, suffice it to say this is geared toward historians, hardcore folkies and/or Mitchell fanatics; basically those willing to fork over nearly $60 to explore her musical back pages.

With Earth to Dora, Everett adds another emotionally edgy chapter to his artistic and spiritual journey that existing fans will appreciate, even if he still does need Novocaine for the soul.

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.

Regardless of its compiler’s obvious intent to generate more cash from Jones’ name, this is a consistently enjoyable listen. It’s a lot of fun and a reminder of the enormous talent taken from us as she was hitting her artistic peak.

Ultimately, the best complement one can pay the band at this point is simply to say that the new album is in fact the perfect primer for newcomers as well as further affirmation for those that have followed them all along. Getting Into Knives makes the point that The Mountain Goats are successfully finding their way to higher heights.

They decided not to overthink it — a great move, as it turns out. In just five days, tracking totally live — which, unbelievably, they’d done only twice previously (on “Darkness on the Edge of Town” and “Born in the U.S.A.”) — the band recorded nine new tunes and three unearthed from before Springsteen had recorded Greetings from Asbury Park, his debut. And yes, some of these songs will take their place alongside his greatest hits.

It’s a sumptuous array to be sure, and one that further expands upon Petty’s lingering legacy.

Nothing approaches rock, or even rock oriented. Rather Melua keeps her expressive, mellifluous voice focused on mood and atmosphere, letting the songs and orchestrations do the heavy lifting.

Despite his decidedly downcast demeanor — imagine John Cale, Nick Cave and Lou Reed crashing one another’s therapy sessions and turning them into one colossal vent — several songs find a spark that manages to illuminate even the darkest designs.

The affecting, rugged, yet at times surprisingly sensitive Private Lives, the act’s most accomplished and immediate release yet.

It remains a great, perhaps the greatest, example of The Replacements’ studio output. Whether you need all the extras, most of which are solid and worth hearing, depends on how attached you are to the contents and band.

The songs are brash, boisterous and flush with an energy level that aptly reflects a seemingly preternatural zeal and enthusiasm.

Combined with The Unraveling, The New OK is a powerful one-two punch to the gut from a band unafraid to lay their political stance out for the world to see. It’s a brave move.

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

Travis is to be commended for keeping the faith and coming up with another batch of quality songs that, if not their best stuff, isn’t far from it. But like the album’s unimaginative title, there’s little that pushes any of the band’s established boundaries into new and fresh sonic areas.

The head-scratching concepts go down easy for music that feels like a comforting warm breeze on a cool spring day.

These days, a classic croons are cool again. Witness the 90-something year old Tony Bennett or the ongoing admiration for Sinatra, Bobby Darin and others that share that seemingly romantic repast. In that regard, This Dream of You offers comforts you can count on.

There isn’t a single song here that doesn’t creep under the skin and remain lodged there for the duration of the encounter. Every one speaks directly to its listeners and resonates with them as well.

If Berninger intended to establish an imprint beyond his day job, he certainly succeeded here. Once Serpentine Prison opens its doors, visitors will likely find it hard to leave.

The Ascension, Stevens’ eighth studio album over all, and the follow-up to his highly lauded outing Carrie & Lowell, diminishes the accessibility factor in favor of a more amorphous imprint, one that finds all manner of effects and an ever-constant shift in sounds that drift through practically every selection.

At nearly 10 hours of music, the “super deluxe” bundle is too much for any but the most committed. But the edited editions include some of the best stuff, leaving the rest for the Prince faithful. And if anyone was unsure of just how talented, creative and prolific Prince was at his inspired peak, this fully loaded box solidifies his legacy as a true American icon.

Given Surfer Blood’s appreciation for the qualities of surf rock and pop, a conventional approach toward melody and harmony recurring in many of Carefree Theatre’s tracks is understandable. Nonetheless, it isn’t a detriment to the album’s collective listening appeal.

Simmons makes little attempt to vary her template. Eventually, despite the pleasant pastiche, the music all starts to sound the same. Absent any real shift in tone or tempo, the overall impact tends to be somewhat muted.

While Mould’s never been a wallflower when it comes to expressing his aggression and rage, Blue Hearts — perhaps more than any of his other individual outings — recalls the fury of Hüsker Dü in both its intensity and aggression.

A mixed bag, although one that those who have loved Tea for the Tillerman since it came out might appreciate. Perhaps not surprisingly, the new one doesn’t exude the magic that made Stevens a worldwide star five decades ago. Those who haven’t heard it should start there.

There’s little about American Head that deviates from the Lips’ usual surreal sound. The overarched arrangements, replete with shimmering rhythms, soaring instrumentation, hushed harmonies and all sorts of cosmic noodling remain intact. If anything, they borrow from early Pink Floyd, hitching a ride to gain interstellar overdrive.

With age and maturity, she’s found her fit with an audience that’s happy to gave grown along with her. Few artists are so capable of making music that allows intimacy to emote so expressively.

While there are dreary aspects to much of What Is There, the general vibe, and slick, meaty production, is one of a moderately hopeful future.

Although certain songs on the new record offer her a catharsis of sorts —”When She Comes,” “Half Hanged Mary” and “Bones” being some of the more obvious examples — the album overall finds her exuding a decided clarity and confidence.

Every Feeling On a Loop finds Johnson offering up a series of confessional songs, all enhanced with the tones, textures and sumptuous arrangements that had been a touchstone of The Head and the Heart’s articulate tableau since the very beginning.

The sumptuous yet sublime Lightning, Show Your Stuff, makes it apparent that quantity has never come at the expense of quality.

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.

While the sisters have never made a bad album, as soon as you push play and the title track comes roaring out with its classic Led Zeppelin-styled riff, sung and played simultaneously by Rebecca, it’s clear that the sisters have found their footing.

Some selections could have been edited to make this a shorter, stronger collection, especially since the smooth, unruffled mid-tempo groove gets a little stale by the album’s final third. But it’s a pleasure to have Penn back on the music scene he is so inextricably tied to, writing and cutting fresh tracks with the same attention to detail and overall mojo he applied to the timeless gems that made him such an iconic name in American soul music.

Both knowing and nuanced, its 13 songs share Kelly’s determination to maintain his sobriety following his earlier struggles with alcoholism and drug dependency. It is, in the truest sense, both a vindication that his vulnerability was sorely needed, and that he’s wholly committed to his craft. It is, in fact, one of the best albums released so far this year.

None of this breaks musical barriers. Still, Cocker’s assimilation of some obvious influences noted above hits a sweet spot that makes Beyond the Pale, some of which was apparently recorded live then enhanced with overdubs, impressive, often moving and hypnotic. Hopefully he can follow it up faster than the time it took to get here.

The Gleam III is sparsely arranged, amplified only by earnest emotion, simple sincerity and undiminished sentiment.

Tuttle’s supple voice, nimble award winning guitar chops and obvious love for the material carries these versions.

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.

By the time the Beatles’ “Blackbird” closes the set in a slowed down blues arrangement with a string quartet, most listeners will be wrung out emotionally from these expressive takes on generally seldom heard gems. Bettye LaVette may not have penned any, but she owns them just the same.

Gritty yet determined, assertive but still steady, Joseph offers a stealth-eyed glimpse of a world seemingly on the verge of collapse. Salvation may be elusive, but clearly Joseph won’t give way to the inevitable just yet.

For those so inclined, Songs for the General Public is a giddy musical roller coaster ride through the poppier aspects of the 70s with more twists and turns perhaps than are necessary. Hang on tight and enjoy the trip.

There aren’t many that can keep the musical flame burning for this long and maintain the quality found here.

Perhaps the input of a full band or an outside producer would have curtailed some of Scott’s more impulsive, if well-meaning, tendencies and made this a more cohesive experience. They may not work, but give him credit for trying.

“Little Victories” and “Dogtown Days” may add momentary muscle — albeit it tenuously at that — but overall the focus is found in decidedly hushed happenstance. Happily, it’s hard to find fault with these tender trappings, one more reason why XOXO excels with little more than a calm caress.

Somehow simultaneously edgy yet soothing, these songs may not display the type of unbridled, jagged joy that these members’ main bands provide, but there is depth and complexity here, inviting immersive exploration.

In the here and now, with Jump Rope Gazers, they are bounding past their contemporaries.

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.

He’s one of America’s most unique and unusual artists, exemplified by this original and compelling release.

Where A Celebration of Endings excels most is not solely in its compiling of various sobering narratives with catchy or satisfyingly progressive songwriting.

While her singing remains strong and she is emoting about issues close to her, these tracks would benefit from more musical muscle. Regardless, even if Total Freedom isn’t her finest work, it’s encouraging that Edwards has returned to releasing new material and doing what she does best.

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.

Datura4 should pump up the volume at any party whose participants are either over 60 or just love the music of the era known for black lights, skin tight trousers, beards and waist long hair.

Crockett is not aiming for edgy but neither is he slick, overly smooth or worse, commercially motivated. Even when the songs describe the titular hard times, his affable approach makes them go down easy and, like the best performers, leaves you wanting more.

It’s a lot to delve into. As much a scholarly treatise as serious source material, the relit Flaming Pie is finally served up with the stature it deserves.

Between the lyrics questioning relationships and music that swirls and soars, Sucker’s Lunch isn’t easy listening. But those who dig deeper into Madeline Kenney’s uncertainties about love and affection will relate to the difficulties this process of starting a new serious relationship can be, and how wonderfully these complex and beautifully crafted songs tackle, even obliquely, that thorny subject.

Replacing some ballads with more upbeat selections would help this disc’s flow; it gets slightly repetitious over its 50-minute playing time. Regardless, there are enough resilient moments to make this a welcome, if long overdue, addition to the group’s impressive catalog. Hopefully it won’t take another three decades for its follow-up.

Old Flowers conclusively proves that Courtney Marie Andrews has reached a difficult to attain level, showing once again that the timeworn trope of “breaking up is hard to do” can be dreadfully unsettling personally but also creatively rewarding.

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.

The Kingdom is a healthy and dynamic record, leaning toward a heavier sound that is majorly consistent. And Rossdale’s piecemeal, emotive style of songwriting serves the record well, leading with heart and less structure or obligation.

An album so full of emotion, it takes a while to absorb it all. It’s not perfect, and it’s not meant to be. But the juxtaposition of slickness and rawness somehow works, making the kind of statement the Chicks have been working toward since they first sang of mattress dancing and offing that unfaithful Earl.

Ultimately, Our Two Skins is an album that begs closer examination to fully flesh out those deeper designs.

Fortunately, there is some respite with “June 21” and “The Aphorist,” both of which allow the raucous proceedings to take a brief pause. Yet even there the turgid trappings aren’t entirely abandoned. There’s a clear sense of foreboding imbued in each of these offerings and the darkness and doom continue to linger throughout.