It’s when you start listening a bit closer that the nuance of the writing, the subtlety of the arrangements, and the magical interplay of the two voices, in harmonies alternately high-spirited and heartbreaking, start to break you down and leave an indelible impression.

Albums like this one continue to burnish a musical legacy that is every bit as imposing as the ones to which Earle pays homage in these songs.

While there is an aural sameness that occasionally feels repetitious, the material is so exquisitely composed, effortlessly recorded and emotionally sung, this isn’t a major shortcoming for an album that gets more impressive each time you hear it.

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

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.

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

In Postcards Pieta Brown has created a trip through her most personal and revealing moments with an honesty and confidence most wouldn’t even attempt.

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.

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.

25 can seem like 11 singles instead of an album at times; all the big-name producers and co-songwriters muscling their way in doesn’t allow for too much restraint.

This 30 minute set [provides] a crazed, occasionally unhinged yet always riveting experience.

Even though this is done and dusted in just over 30 minutes, the raw rocking and joyous attitude will stick with you long afterwards.

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

Maybe they’re mostly polished pop songs where the ’67 cuts embodied the raw, haphazard spirit of a songwriting era long gone--one that intuitively anticipated the impeccably executed Americana and folk heard on these new recordings--but the idea behind their origin will help them remain as timeless as the originals.

While it may be a brief career diversion instead of a new direction, Butch Walker adds to his long list of accomplishments with an album that’s as impressive in its laid back way as any of the tougher, edgier, more aggressive entries that dominate his catalog.

At fifteen tracks, the formula could easily have run stale were it not for a couple of sneaky surprises.

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

Despite the downbeat album title, Johnson has crafted winning, uplifting music that’s inspirational, even rousing, under any name.

Taken in tandem, The Million Things That Never Happened ranks as one of Bragg’s most thoughtful efforts, no small accomplishments considering the remarkable records that came before.

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

Workaholic producer Dave Cobb keeps Shooter’s sound polished proving that for better, and sometimes worse, Shooter Jennings can play by the country-rock rules when he wants to.

Hesitant Alien features some of Way’s best material yet.

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

It’s Bragg’s voice that’s most prominent of course: warm and resonant, but also mournful at times, tinged with regret, that of an old soul looking at the world and shaking his head at its follies.

Tastefully arranged, fully cohesive and concise.

Some tracks, like “Teenage Summer” (the first single and video) and the tuneful “Oh Hi” highlight choruses that immediately entice like the group’s biggest hit, “Don’t Dream It’s Over,” did nearly four decades ago. But generally, Finn and sons spoon out pleasant, low-key, pensive material that’ll take a few spins to connect with.

Though songs are on the lengthy side (around five minutes), they don't drag, and there is enough powerful bass and drums to complement electronic noise.

With the orchestra, Vanderslice is able to maintain the best-friend-telling-secrets feel of his previous work, while expanding the sound to make it feel more like an orchestral soundscape of all your best friends telling you the same secret. Or maybe the secret is just much, much grander.