The energy level Soundgarden maintains is certainly admirable for a band whose members are all hovering around 50 years old, but this fairly narrow focus on capital-R Rock songs and little of anything else results in a homogeneity that keeps it from offering the level of depth or surprises that the band's previous albums held.

Despite two new numbers near the end of this album, New Blood feels, despite it's occasional avant-garde touches, like another holding pattern from an artist who has not been particularly prolific since his 80s commercial heyday.

Smith's candor in this collection of hard-won songs is admirable.

Golden Suits’ debut brims with great ingredients, but leaves us more excited about Nicolaus’ next effort.

This is challenging Americana that never takes its audience, or its influences, for granted.

Touches of Celtic, jazz, country and folk, but seldom rock, inform these lovely tunes that take their time as if on a leisurely stroll.

The result is this consistently enjoyable, often terrific, frequently challenging 11 track, 51-minute aural rocket ship exploration quite rightly tagged “delirium” by its duo of frontmen.

Blackberry Smoke continues to deliver with the assurance and dependability that their fans have come to expect. At this point, their chief priority seems centered on maintaining their dixie designs.

It’s little surprise that Hearst and Trent have taken this edgy approach given the dread and despair heaped on the world over the course of the past two years. With Manticore, they attempt to make some sense of it all.

Not surprisingly, these Orwellian soundscapes don’t make for a particularly easy listen. ... It’s that collusion between sonics and strife that makes The Invisible Light radiate so remarkably.

Lovett sounds so tired on all of these songs. All those years with Curb weigh heavily on him, which makes Release Me less of a triumphant good-bye and more of an unceremonious shuffle out the door.

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.

Intriguing and introspective, The Man Upstairs warrants considerable praise.

While there isn’t a strict cohesion tying the record’s ten tunes together sonically, an attempted theme would likely have distracted Maines in the effort to spread her wings and show off a bit. Offering up a stylistic sampler provides a portrait of an accomplished artist setting out on her own.

Some performers are more impressive on CD where their on-stage antics aren’t visible (we’re talking to you “Weird Al”) but the dedication to, and love for, Harrison’s music is infused in every track. That makes this a fitting testament to his music, a thoroughly enjoyable experience (in either its video or audio forms), and a splendid, at times superior, companion piece to its well-regarded predecessor.

[A] well meaning but ultimately disappointing release.

It’s a feeling of abject determination that makes this album different from many of Folds’ earlier endeavors, and, as a result, a somewhat more earnest offering as well. In that sense, What Matters Most reflects all its name intends to claim.

They’ve created the rare sort of album that manages to be both familiar and disorienting at the same time, an expansively cinematic experience that remains unpretentiously grounded.

Built to Spill Plays the Songs of Daniel Johnston manages to do what most tribute albums aspire to, but few achieve — it stands as a testament to the songs and to the band reimagining them. Martsch spotlights Johnston’s lyrics and arrangements in a fresh, innovative way that makes us reconsider these songs while reminding us why we fell in love with them in the first place.

This is a solid album that will make fans happy without an instant classic like "Waiting For The Sun" or "Blue."

Doja Cat is just what the world needs today. A sharp knife to cut through the blizzard of sounds and styles out there. But at the same time a fiery party, something you can witness from the solar system. With the blazing soundtrack to accompany it.

Where You Stand is a welcome, beautifully crafted and timeless return.

Long Player, Late Bloomer is a record certainly worthy of being played for a long, long time to come.

Besides the band's signature quirky lyrics, Join Us also retains its well-known staccato guitar and keyboard interplay as well as a tendency for crazy-quilt arrangements.

The songs never sink to the downbeat morass of its socio-economic subject matter. On the contrary his voice, somewhat like John Lennon's, is boyishly refreshing even when the music is as stark.

The stories are typically droll, but the accompaniment is solid, sturdy, old school country played by veterans who know how to keep things tight yet loose.

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.

Now, 47 years after his passing, music Hendrix never authorized is available, warts and all, in a package that, for all of its captivating moments, still exudes the faint yet noxious whiff of wringing every last dollar from his dedicated fan base.