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.

It’s an understatement to say the album’s audacious tone and approach will take some getting used to for Americana fans. But those with open minds and an affinity for ’80s sounds should warm up to this unanticipated, intense but generally enticing music.

The band’s best, worst and WTF moments are on display — along with a lot in the middle — but there is little doubt that The Replacements deserve their place in American rock music history.

Why Me? Why Not. is indeed comparable to one of Macca’s recent solo albums, a little modern, a little throwback, a lot of good stuff. Don’t miss out on the resurgence of Liam Gallagher while you’re hoping against hope for the return of his former band.

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.

Headphones enhance the experience as they help immerse the listener in Robertson’s edgy, creative and literate world.

Jamie is nothing if not daring, filled with fascinating, sometimes jarring musical complexities which the most skeptical listener will appreciate. Despite its relatively brief 36 minute playing time, the disc’s concepts and sheer obliqueness makes it linger far longer as a bold declaration from a restlessly creative artist with plenty on her mind.

Del Rey has certainly carved out her own niche in the world of singer-songwriters, much as the quasi-namesake of Norman Fucking Rockwell! did in the art world. This shows her refining that approach, adding a few new brush strokes here and there, but still providing a unique and fascinating tableau as a whole.

If you’re already a fan of Banhart’s recent work, this slots firmly into that leisurely, often lovely vibe. He has shifted away from the quirky “freak folk” of his early years into something just as odd, even subversive, around its edges, but far more relaxed and enjoyable.

This is no Rod Stewart-styled mushy romp. It’s a serious, wildly and sometimes radically adventurous reimagining of often obscure entries from the great American songbook and like little you’ve heard or would expect.

Generally more subdued than the Lambert-led Pistol Annies and less groundbreaking than Trio (the iconic Emmylou, Dolly, Linda Ronstadt project that was a clear influence here), some of this doesn’t qualify as country. It would have helped if all four women participated in every performance since at least one is MIA on the majority of tunes. And while Dave Cobb’s production is typically professional, it’s also a little dry. Regardless, this is a much needed shot in the arm from talented female singer-songwriters.

This is another in a series of solid, R&B-soaked Sacred Steel albums, each a little better and more focused than the last, that further cements the pedal steel’s — and Robert Randolph’s own — musical place both in and outside of the church.

A few more rockers on the order of the Armstrong co-write “Strangers & Thieves” would have raised the overall temperature, but each of these 14 tracks is an exquisitely constructed gem.

This remains yet another diverse, refined and intermittently provocative release from an experienced singer-songwriter who consistently provides the Americana goods with cleverness, class and style.

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 total effect of Thrashing Thru The Passion is that of The Hold Steady at their most casual and confident, tossing off these songs that would be tour de forces for anyone else as if they have a bushelful of them just hanging around the studio.

In other words, it’s McClinton as we’ve come to know and love him, cranking out another solid disc of Americana, Delbert-style. It sounds inspired and freewheeling, like he’s just getting started. And considering his age and extensive resume, that’s quite a compliment.

Even as Vernon and his cast of thousands get further and further from the relatively simple, backwoods folkie sound that originally brought him to the forefront, he is making music that, far from being strange, is actually as inviting as anything he has ever done.

Regardless of Mixtape Vol. 1’s origins, it’s a fun, dynamic set. Let’s hope this is just the beginning of a series of likeminded follow-ups.

The remastered audio captures each instrument with surprisingly sharp and clean separation which makes this sound better than what an exhausted, rain-soaked, mud covered audience experienced hearing it live.

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.

Strange, inexplicable and uncomfortable are descriptions the Femmes’ are likely proud of. Their ageing indie audience expects nothing less and should be more than happy to check into this hotel of last resort.

This is clearly an album to be absorbed, perhaps alone, as you read the words and let the music wash over you, taking you places few singer-songwriters dare to explore, let alone those on their first albums. Similar to the early work of the equally unconventional PJ Harvey.

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.

The disc is like the best jukebox you ever heard in a sleazy, punky country bar, perhaps like the broken down Seeburg pictured on the back sleeve. Plunk down your quarter and wherever the needle falls, you’ll end up on the dance floor.

The outfit gets points for releasing an album comprising new compositions (minus Petty’s tune), which helps establish them as more than another ABB cover act, albeit one with undeniably valid credentials.

The 10 tunes fly by in the fastest 40 minutes of your life. No need to pick and choose favorites either, because there’s little filler on a debut that knows the approach it wants and nails it with graceful professionalism and buckets of passion.

The combination of Buddy’s husky rumble and Julie’s lighter but still incisive approach makes for an explosive vocal blend. There is no filler in these dozen tunes (over 50 were written, from which they chose the best) that remind us what we’ve missed in the decade since the couple last recorded together. It’s a continuation of a musical and personal partnership that’s entrancing, honest and one that makes for a mesmerizing listen.

All but one are previously unreleased and show not only how prolific he was but how much work he put into these demo recordings, which sound as good as the finished product. Better yet, it’s an example of the quality of material still lurking in the Prince archives. This hour-long collection will more than satiate fans of the artist until the next batch inevitably appears.

From the throbbing Led Zeppelin-styled hard rock of “Don’t Bother Me” (complete with short drum solo), to the following Elton John/10cc influenced piano ballad “Shine The Light On Me” and the riff-rawk driven “What’s Yours is Mine,” these four guys play together like a well-oiled machine, not one that has been idle for a decade.

The diversity works to Los Coast’s advantage, keeping a vibrant, generally exuberant approach coalescing around Pivott’s voice as it ignores stylistic boundaries more established outfits might be hemmed in by.

These diverse songs find their balance not just with a subtle mix of rootsy country, folk, pop, soul and Americana, but in Nelson’s homespun vocals inviting you to unplug and, well, do what the disc’s title suggests.

At the end of the 20 tracks, you’ll feel both closer to yourself and to Bill Callahan as you drift along with his expansive, occasionally humorous, always provocative and quirky mindset.

Together, they make gorgeously sensual music, with essential contributions from Calexico trumpeter Jacob Valenzuela, pedal steel player Paul Niehaus, keyboardist Rob Burger and bassist Sebastian Steinberg.

Western Stars is erratic in the first half, as Springsteen’s need for exposition sometimes grinds uneasily against the sweep of the music. But the second half is a profound pleasure. ... It makes you wish that Springsteen could dash off an album full of such country songs. Until then, Western Stars will have to do, and it does just fine.

Those unfamiliar with the artist can start here. But longtime fans should be prepared for a freshly energized Dylan LeBlanc, one who has found new vitality reflected in the lyrics “Dying to be born again.”

Even with its abbreviated length, there is plenty to chew on, both sonically and conceptually. The 60-year-old Farrell sounds inspired and as edgy as 30 some years ago.

Three discs worth of rehearsals are hit and miss; many songs are fragmentary and others don’t match the eventual live versions. Plus, the live shows don’t vary all that much in their set lists. Casual fans will probably stick with the ten or so Dylan songs they play on satellite radio. But true fans will greedily gobble this up and be more than pleased.

The Stray Cats remain a well-oiled machine, as super charged in 2019 as they were 40 years earlier. If this is their final road rally, they’re going out in style.

It’s arguably her finest, most moving and cohesive disc which, considering her extensive catalog, is saying plenty.

The National prove with I Am Easy To Find that they don’t need the old bang and clatter to achieve their signature melancholic glory.

This is another tasteful and tasty JJ Cale set, one that comfortably slots in with the rest of his similarly styled catalog. It’s like he never left.

Even if there isn’t much meat here and the concepts are obtuse at best, the oddly titled Enderness (the beginning “T” is conspicuously, and intentionally, missing), taps into an enticing, low-key vibe that’s just as satisfying and far more personal.

Kimbrough has a smooth yet vibrant voice, perfect for this melodic and poignant music. Perhaps a few more rockers would have cranked up the fire, and at ten short cuts, more on the level of what’s here would have been welcome.

Musically, the occasional horns, a fuller production, and a more structured overall approach makes this eighth release the tightest, most focused Felice Brothers album yet.

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

Few artists have the financial means or artistic vision to pull off a thunderous production like this which is impressive in its scope and sheer booming audio audacity. Van Zandt doesn’t have the best voice (his attempt to croon a ballad on “Suddenly You” is almost comedic), but he generally puts across the material in a sort of sub-Southside Johnny howl.

Third time the charm? Based on the shimmering Mint Condition, it deserves to be.

Lady Lamb and producer Erin Tonkon keep the sonic landscape busy and surprising, even on the quieter numbers. They also aren’t afraid to go for heartwarming, which is something you might not associate with the indie-rock genre.

U.F.O.F. is a beautiful album, but one that finds Big Thief a little more willing to push their limits, both in terms of abrasiveness and grace. Perhaps Big Thief are no longer a secret, but they continue to draw the listener ever closer.

These indie rockers chug along with sufficient energy but few have memorable melodies or hooks. Tucker’s words, while well meaning, are often simplistic and preachy.

He, producer Josh Kaufman, and the supporting musicians have added lovely flourishes along the way. This album luxuriates at times in languid, jazzy ambience, while female backing vocalists coo in response to Finn’s lead and brass coexists winningly with synths.

This is an impressive first effort. ... Her authority, poise and sense of self resonates as a new yet seasoned artist, just getting started and with a promising career ahead.

Social Cues shows the group maturing musically without losing its grip on their ability to craft haunting, accessible tunes ready for the larger venues they have rightfully graduated to.

Although the style is more Knitters than X, the rawness to these tunes makes Shovels & Rope seem like ornery, indie folk-rockers.

The disc is only 42 minutes long, but he’s pushing the envelope in so many directions, you’ll likely get dizzy playing this through for the first time. Regardless, there’s enough of a method to his madness for those open minded enough who enter this occasionally dark, always circuitous musical tunnel to enjoy, or at least appreciate, the ride.

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.

These are not recognizable as songs in the traditional sense; there aren’t choruses, verses and bridges, or really much structure. Rather they are pieces, seemingly of a theatrical play for the ears, where Burnett waxes poetic and philosophical on a variety of disturbing topics.

It has taken 50 years of performing on the fringes of the music business, but with the sumptuous It Rains Love, Lee Fields is seizing his moment by showering us with the sizzling sounds of pure, undiluted soul.

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.

There’s just too much to handle. But taken in smaller pieces, and put into perspective with the iconic jazzman’s enormous output, this beautifully crafted, linen covered box is essential to appreciating the early, somewhat formative years of his larger-than-life musical personality, one that would go on to create bigger and arguably better things.

What Steve Earle and the Dukes make clear with Guy is that these songs are old friends as well, somehow truer and purer today than when they were written by one of the masters.

While fewer slow songs might better balance the often somber pacing, this hour-long program shows why Griffin is one of today’s finest singer-songwriters; one who never rests on her impressive laurels by consistently challenging herself and her audience and coloring outside folk music’s established boundaries.

Farrar’s emotionless approach and the muted instrumentation--issues that thread through all of Union--stultifies any sense of urgency, leaving the listener neither moved nor motivated to do anything other than drift off to sleep.

A sometimes harrowing but ultimately hard-earned triumph, seems to have reinvigorated Showalter to keep Strand Of Oaks afloat as the search continues.

Even with all the experimentation, this remains a recognizable David Gray album with subdued melodies, unforced vocals, subtle acoustics and honest lyrics even in their more obtuse state.

Weller’s in sturdy, soulful voice throughout. There is virtually no interaction with the audience, yet he’s clearly invested in this performance. Even if you’re familiar with the older material, you’ll want to explore it again after hearing it revived with full orchestration. The audio mix is stunning, the strings and horns are beautifully conceived and the entire concert is a succinct and often challenging overview of one of the UK’s most consistently impressive and creative singer-songwriters.

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.

The album is so beautifully performed and meticulously crafted that its heartfelt, smooch-ready nature will likely result in at least a few babies born nine months after release.

It’ll take some adjusting to deal with Charles’ slick, ultra-commercial versions of these old-school country/western and countrypolitan gems. But understanding how drastic a career move this was for the era, it makes more sense. Even with faults, these two volumes of Modern Sounds in Country and Western remain required listening for Americana fans and their reappearance is worth celebrating.

American Love Song expertly and movingly shows how the overarching U.S.A. theme can encompass triumph and tragedy from one moment to the next.

Yola can hold her own with the best, and it’s likely this terrific album will end up as one of the most impressive debuts of this or recent years. Its combustive combination of talent, songwriting and sympathetic yet bold production makes Yola’s release one of the finest soul/country fusions in recent memory.

No one makes music quite like this pair. If Frank Zappa took drugs, this might be the result. The more you listen, the more you hear and if ever there was an album perfect for listening with headphones and the lights out, this is it.

Some songs suffer from being underwritten and overplayed. Still, there are enough impressive moments to ensure that, at least on stage, they will detonate with the passion and soul the Tedeschi Trucks band generates at every show.

As unabashedly pop albums go, Ellis’ self-descriptive Texas Piano Man is a bracing alternative to the guitar-focused music that dominates the singer-songwriter field.

For anyone expecting a stark left-turn from the songwriter, What It Is will be a let-down. But the record’s greatest strength is also what makes it predictable: as Carll settles into the warm consistency and careful craft of middle-career, he’s less interested in proving who he is than in refining what he does best.

An album that’s not just an impressive follow-up to a career that fans thought was long over, but a splendid entry into the contemporary Americana field, one that The Long Ryders had an underappreciated hand in crafting.

Not surprisingly, these songs float rather than soar as hints of organ, piano, and synthesizer augment the sparse sound without jarring the listener, lulled into Pratt’s ever so elusive world.

The production, arrangements and overall audio are beautifully crafted, McCombs’ askew concepts are, well... intriguing, and this hour long album is another impressive notch in the belt of a talented artist whose unusual, often offbeat approach is what makes him so distinctive, entrancing and appealing.

It remains an electric, inspired show thanks to an exceedingly talented band led by guitarist Rick Holmstrom, and of course Staples’ larger than life voice, vitality and sheer personality. Pushing 80, she seems unstoppable.

Rev’s somewhat radical interpretation will alert Americana fans to Gentry’s unfairly neglected gem, now ready for a belated rediscovery.

A similarity to the material and an overall honeyed style dominate on initial listen, but the pieces become more distinctive after a few spins.

If the first 45 minutes don’t convince you this is the best garage rock album in years, then the closing 13-minute epic “Ghost Cave Lament,” one of two new tunes, will seal the deal.

It’s still early in 2019, but with the striking, often churchy Painted Image, the half-Dominican/half-Italian southerner Liz Brasher sketches a claim as a breakout Americana soul-singer with crossover potential.

Credit goes to multi-instrumentalist/producer James Elkington who balances a near perfect blend of acoustic and subtle electric instrumentation, ghostly supporting vocals and strings along with Gunn’s own singing and exquisite guitar. He molds this hypnotic mélange that finds its footing early and tugs you deeper into the vortex of sound through the next 45 minutes, crafting a swirling, effortlessly artsy album with an almost surreal atmosphere you won’t soon forget.

Even if Joe Jackson is no longer the mega-star of the ‘80s, it’s clear from the consistently innovative, often challenging Fool that he is far from a faded has-been. On the contrary, it’s good enough to suggest his best might still be ahead of him.

Remind Me Tomorrow actually does take a less-is-more tack in terms of its lyrics. Yet this album manages to be striking even when the words are minimized or backgrounded. Van Etten may be transforming, but she’s still triumphing.

A handful of rocked-up covers such as “Auld Lang Syne” and “Angels We Have Heard on High” corral these standards into the Old 97s’ careening, energized mindset, and even the cloying “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” gets a cool surfy makeover thanks to Bethea’s spaghetti western guitar solo.

The album is finished a scant 32 heart-pulsating minutes after it started, but nothing is rushed. Rather, the Lovell sisters have opened the door to a dark, bluesy, portentous worldview, something sinister and threatening even in its lightest moments. It’s like little else out there, so hang on tight and join them.

He’s in fine voice throughout, and even if these performances aren’t always iconic, they’re personal and often touching, even in front of some rowdy crowds. ... A compelling listen and historically significant.

The band has never been less than classy fun and the jaunty, delightful Hey! Merry Christmas! doesn’t stray from that by keeping the season alive and well with a holiday album you’ll be returning to each year.

No need digging out those Setzer albums this Christmas for your hep-cat and kitty party needs. There’s a new rockabilly rebel mixing it up, and if McPherson’s first wildly successful foray into swinging holiday cheer is any indication, this might be the start of something big.

It’s impossible to not get caught up in the sheer joy exuded by Morrison and company as he cranks out yet another winner in a bulging catalog filled with them.

Rejoice in the music of Beggars Banquet that sounds as vital today as when it was released five decades ago. But unless you’ve got money to burn, it’s best to stick with the existing versions of one of the Rolling Stones’ most immersive and enduring works.

his is not the album to play when trimming your tree, unless your family is as dysfunctional as the characters that populate most of these songs. But it’s one that will resonate for months after the last present is unwrapped.

Sex, Dope & Cheap Thrills fills in crucial missing pieces of the iconic record and makes a worthy addition to it for those looking to explore more of where the mojo that created it came from.