He sounds completely rejuvenated here. It makes Modern Blues one of his most compelling releases and a potent example of how a change of scenery can unexpectedly yet effectively revitalize a career.

Former Lives rolls along with solidly steady results, but there aren't too many songs that stand out.

Rather, at 72, Jeff Beck continues to push the envelope and stays as edgy and restless as those less than half his age.

Eight tracks straight of gut-punching, emotive arena rock can be exhausting--especially when it leans so heavily on emo aesthetics.

All Birds Say plays like some east coast indie darling took his acoustic guitar out into the great west, met a kindred soul with a steel guitar and shared a few sweet and unambitious thoughts on life. Broemel chooses his instruments well, and if the album never raises its voice, with a consistency in tempo that approaches droning, it's still a pretty haze.

The music is charismatic and chaotic, full of shouts, clanging and bright guitars--listen to it with your eyes closed and you'll see everything short of sparkling blue stars.

A handful of high profile ringers (Beck, Beth Orton, the Cure's Robert Smith, Phil Collins, Snow Patrol) join less recognizable names interpreting Martyn songs in versions that will hopefully encourage listeners unfamiliar with his work to seek out his bulging catalog of inspired originals.

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

Don't let this sweet, fiery gem slip away.

There isn't much break from the gravitas throughout these dozen character driven, often lyrically obtuse songs, almost all of them sung from the first person perspective.

It may be startling news to fans who expected something more raw, more twangy or more of the same, but in this case, the startling news is that the new Tristen is startling good.

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.

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.

With Beneath The Eyrie, Pixies have finally found a new stride, releasing a solid effort that can breathe easily on its own.

He’s a rocker with a folksinger’s soul, or perhaps a folkie with a rocker’s spirit. In either case, both sides are well represented over the course of these 15 tracks that prove Jesse Malin’s creativity is alive and well.

The original songs here are, perhaps surprisingly, stronger than the parodies, and Yankovich shines brightest when he is just being funny without a direct target.

As much as this album sounds like a final chapter, a loose-end knotting affair designed as a summary statement, there are no subplots left unresolved.

By design, Mechanical Bull was made for fun, and in that spirit, they succeeded.

The duo has a knack for affecting turns of phrases such as that, which helps offset the lack of finite details to ground the songs on Monterey.

It may not be her finest set, but it captures the light/dark spirit that informed Crow’s best music and is a worthy addition to an already impressive catalog.

What she’s come up with isn’t always completely successful, but it keeps you wanting more.

Few acts inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, as Cheap Trick deservedly was in 2016, are cranking out music as fresh, honest, energized and explosive as these guys have released in the past two years.

This analog affair sounds cinematic even without the visuals.

Bingham made a challenging record, opted to go the Bad Blake route instead of going down in a blaze of ponytails and designer jeans, and that ensures his relevance for years to come.

Twelve members and five records in and the Dears have made their best album yet -– Degeneration Street is one of the rock albums to live up to in 2011.

All That Echoes is not only Groban’s most accessible and unified work to date, but it also stands out as the seminal musical moment of his 12-year career.

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.

Stills’ vocal limitations, brought on through age and hearing loss, are well known by now. But in this looser environment they are almost an asset as he spits out lyrics with joyful abandon.