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.

The band expertly navigates unusual, sometimes radical mood changes, with a maturity that forsakes some of its youthful friskiness without compromising an idiosyncratic vision that is just as compelling today as it was 25 years ago.

Fatal Mistakes reflects a dueling perspective, one that recognizes the difficulty of maintaining a certain standard but that is determined to reach new goals. The fact that Del Amitri succeed as well as they do is a testament to both their confidence and their talent.

Since White has the more recognizable name, and also produced the project, Take it Like a Man bears more of his absurdist influence, which is a good thing.

It’s the textured restraint on rockers like the closing “DDT,” which unexpectedly changing tempos mid-track, that shows the group’s maturation in their performance and songwriting chops. It indicates a leap forward in the Banditos’ artistic evolution and the potential to expand their sound even further in the future.

Much of this revamped version of Psychedelic Swamp is vastly more conventional--even normal--than the record that inspired it, which is as much a selling point as it is a slight source of disappointment.

Kelly is a tenured veteran songsmith who creates melodies, if perhaps not hooky ones here, that grow on you like kudzu, intentionally creating an album that is greater than the sum of its parts.

This is an impressive first effort for the multi-talented Johns who is clearly determined to avoid spending his life in the shadows of others.

His latest album, Country Music, is Willie at his finest, characteristically understated and effortless.

The effect shifts from sophisticated to just short of snooze inducing as the disc wears on and what starts out as tasty ends up as more of the same when the vibe stays locked in its classy, stylish, chill out groove.

It may not be an album most would expect from Neil Finn, but it’s clearly the one he wanted to make.

How many times you’ll return to it is questionable, especially for power pop fans, but it’s a logical extension from the chamber accompaniment of the album’s opening songs and shows Folds to be even more gifted than many of his followers thought.

Listeners with liberal tastes and open ears will find enough quality music here to satisfy them for as long as it takes to plow through and absorb it all, which could be a while. Those new to the band will likely find their head spinning too quickly to grasp it all. But no one will complain it’s boring.

The hitch in the album is the hit-or-miss probability of the listener connecting with the quizzical story, wrought in obscurity.

Admirable though the attempt may be, I’ll Be Your Mirror too often misses its mark.

Modern Art stands as one of Sweet's most mature works, displaying his unique gifts as a songwriter and musician.

There is something here for almost everyone making this a unique if inconsistently satisfying glance into the mind of one of pop's most fascinating and under-appreciated artists.

It works. And not just because Tilbrook's high and mellifluous voice has only ever-so-slightly thickened and Difford's lower register--used for great deadpan effect on "Cool For Cats"--defies aging concerns, but because these effortlessly clever, tuneful and pithy songs never got their full due in the U.S.

Votolato's clear eyed honesty about what seems to be a crumbling long-term relationship as reflected in often nature inspired lyrics, is thought provoking, melancholy, remarkably personal and ultimately revealing of sober truths many have felt in the same situation.

This is unquestionably slow going and perhaps best taken in smaller doses, but it’s ultimately rewarding for those willing to take advice from a guy whose darkness and internal demons have remained key components to his emotionally naked creativity.

The full-band electric tracks have many intriguing elements, including a vibe that captures the wonder of Crazy Horse while infusing that chunka-chunka sound with skittery guitar riffs and other young-blood input. But the new-era tunes tend to be marred by seriously clunky lyrics.

Amidon’s plaintive, boyish vocals make up in character what they lack in uniqueness.

Though Title Fight may have accomplished what they wanted to achieve on Hyperview, it seems the group is still searching for that ideal combination of aggression and peace.

The retro inferences of this one male/two female trio's name appear prominently in their spunky, punky, fuzzed out, garage rock.

These United States' lead singer Jesse Elliot has a scratchy, affected voice--maybe a super-strung-out Ryan Adams, if you're looking for a point of reference--which makes for a varied listening experience: Sometimes you want it to lead you to the Promised Land ("Just This"), sometimes you just want to make it stop ("Ever Make You Mine").

Matthews’ ageless voice remains warm and inviting as he winds his way through this hour long set, creating a wistful yet never regretful mood.

Ultimately despite, or perhaps because of, its minor ambitions, Classics succeeds on its own terms.

Live At The Cellar Door sounds like Neil Young with his head down playing to an exceedingly polite crowd.... But the real gems here are the pared down Everybody Knows tracks.