Her voice flutters, bounces, and hiccups through the twelve songs on Metal, and her singing is dynamic and never boring.

Few tracks instantly jump out, but after multiple spins, it’s easy to get lost in Lynn’s creamy, dreamy approach, her breathy yet compelling voice, and the life-questioning lyrics that define the album’s overall entrancing soundscape.

It’s quietly hypnotizing music, unconcerned with commercial trends and miles away from the more hoedown revival of Old Crow.

The album does a wonderful job of creating and sustaining its mood. People looking for something a little bit more flashy or bold-faced from their music should probably look elsewhere.

More ornate and richly produced than any of her previous recordings, The Order Of Time fully establishes June as a proper auteur who has long transcended any limitations as a quaint revivalist.

The bottom line is that The Next Day proves that Bowie, whoever he might be, is back, invigorating his listeners even as he stupefies them.

The sometimes heavy quality of the concepts never overwhelms music that takes Dusty in Memphis as its stylistic template and moves it into a contemporary, but not slick, setting.

If there’s anything keeping Dying Star from being an outright classic, it’s that Kelly can so effortlessly conjure up the regretful young man’s blues that the nearly hour-long album can coast at times. But for the most part, Dying Star is a triumph.

On fifth LP Gimme Some, the Swedish trio has stripped down their sound, and their brand of indie rock has never sounded fresher.

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

The twosome generates real sparks throughout and the natural camaraderie bursts through the speakers. You can almost see, and surely feel, their beaming faces on many selections. But even at its best, it’s hard not to wish this was a bigger showcase for Mahal than Mo’, with the latter’s notoriously slicker approach dialed down to allow the former’s gutsy soul to take the spotlight.

Existing fans will appreciate the uptick in sheer moodiness and offbeat experimental tendencies matched with fluid, often hypnotic melodies the quartet displays on the majority of Strange Little Birds. Newcomers to the Garbage experience can start here and work themselves backwards through an impressively edgy catalog brimming with more of the same.

he album is a study in contrasts with Lauderdale’s recording debut: the 61-year-old singer’s voice has deepened and grown more resonant with age, more weary and weathered and measured.

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.

It’s the sound of a knowing band reveling in what it does best. B-Room, which combines the scrappiness of the band’s earliest records with a matured sense of songcraft, is sure to please longtime Dr. Dog fans.

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

The more sophisticated Chains are Broken reflects a willingness to push beyond the somewhat cult audience The Devil Makes Three has accumulated, into a wider framework without abandoning their reputable roots. While it may be a bit jarring on initial spin, the risk has paid off.

The problem with Psychedelic Pill, and it's a substantial one, is that, besides that inspired ending, the instrumental passages don't distinguish themselves as being all that memorable.

LeBlanc has found firm footing with the help of fellow Muscle Shoals musicians John Paul White and Ben Tanner, who have helped the Shreveport, Louisiana native flesh out his musical strengths and make the most mature, cohesive record in his still-fresh career.

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.

While this collection isn't uniformly awe-inspiring, Hiatt has outdone himself on a couple of these tunes.

What could be a raucous mess is smartly written, well produced and arranged hard rock/power pop with slight prog and punk tendencies.

There aren’t many musicians of Mayall’s advanced years still recording new music and fewer still sounding this energetic and dynamic. It’s not his finest work, but fans won’t come away disappointed either.

The styles vary while the tonality is so consistent, so dialed in that all feels seamless and the transition from gorgeous to gutbucket feels as natural as sunset.

It may take a leap of faith, and it’s hard to imagine how convincingly Lake Street Dive can pull off this slick, immaculately produced studio album on stage, but once you let yourself go with the disc’s flow, it’s tough not be engaged by the sheer vivacity and likeability of a set that sounds like it was plucked out of a time capsule.

Ultimately, The Future represents another plateau for a band that’s quickly earned a stellar reputation for both verve and versatility. The Future draws on those accomplishments through a timeless tapestry that offers reason to rejoice.

Benson may jump at a Raconteurs reunion should it ever appear, but with a release as strong as You Were Right, he deserves to be playing mid-sized halls as a headliner in his own right.

The performances smartly stick to rockers since the few ballads (“Guernica” and “No Hard Feelings”), while darkly tuneful, expose the limitations of Hunter’s voice, now a shadow of his “All the Young Dudes” heyday. But give him credit for refusing to tweak it with electronic enhancers and writing some terrific tunes, which he attacks with more vigor than many a quarter of his age.