With a two-pack-a-day voice that combines the hard boiled/craggy rectitude of Tony Joe White, Johnny Cash, Kris Kristofferson and especially Waylon Jennings, anything Walls touches feels authentic and lived-in.

Ukulele Songs is lovely as it breezes by, but it doesn't promise a very long shelf-life.

In flirting with frivolity en route to the sublime, the Magnetic Fields too often sound frivolous.

Everything on the appropriately titled Romantic Images goes down smooth with any edges polished to a fine sheen. Those familiar with the music of Tennis will naturally gravitate to this collaboration.

Over production is a constant issue with these tunes, as Stewart (who co-produced) layers guitars, horns, backing vocals and too much of everything on melodies that, by and large, are strong enough to stand on their own in more stripped down arrangements.

There aren’t any catchy melodies, the song structures are loose, often amorphous with a stream of consciousness flow, and the muted ambiance of the 32 minute, live in the studio set isn’t for everyone. ... Lindeman and her band play music as if no one is around and the tapes aren’t running. That’s a difficult task, but one this album accomplishes with class and style and an honest intimacy impossible to dismiss.

Sometimes, as on “Shroud,” the introspective songwriting isn’t strong enough to sustain the bold attack and the seriousness can feel confining.

Black and White America is a laudable musical statement, and a much needed reminder of how prodigious Kravitz is at melding together rock and funk.

Like a lot of Frusciante’s solo output, Enclosure sometimes sounds more like him working through ideas than a presentation of conclusions.

Although the style is more Knitters than X, the rawness to these tunes makes Shovels & Rope seem like ornery, indie folk-rockers.

Listening in one sitting can get tedious since few tempos rise above a muted whisper. Individually the songs play like scenes from that indie movie. Curious, stimulating, and worthy of pondering … if you’re in the mood.

Robbie Fulks at 53 might be a kinder, gentler version of the rascal of old, but one who has perfected balancing touching, reflective ruminations and a sardonic outlook with effortless aplomb.

Removed from the plot, the edgy swamp/country music score doesn’t connect with the powerful and gripping intensity of the show.

This is not to say that this golden anniversary collection doesn’t do a perfectly respectable job. .... But with only one album of original material since the compilation in 2000, and a startling lack of liner notes in the 23-page booklet (the previous one boasted a book twice as long and far more comprehensive), there is little reason for this to exist other than to rake in some bucks by repackaging content any fan already has or for whoever doesn’t already own this material.

While others in the Americana field get stuck in a groove, that will never be a problem with the Sadies and Northern Passages is a worthy entry in the notable catalog of a now-veteran act who refuse to be pigeonholed.

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.

What We Walk This Road lacks in over-the-top displays of technique, it makes up for in soul, as Randolph's tasteful playing and subtle vocal phrasings emerge more clearly when not fighting for space inside overloaded arrangements.

The slick varnish he [producer John Agnello] slathers on doesn't do this group any favors. Still, the melodies stick to your brain like flypaper.

Boy in a Well remains a missed opportunity for The Yawpers to raise their lyrical game, one that could easily have been rectified with more attention to packaging and explanatory details that are mysteriously and frustratingly MIA.

The percolating pop of “Home Again,” “Caught By Night,” “818,” “One Chance,” and “Libertude” are but a few of the examples of the catchy and quirky nature of Hammond Jr’s individual offerings.

A mixed bag, although one that those who have loved Tea for the Tillerman since it came out might appreciate. Perhaps not surprisingly, the new one doesn’t exude the magic that made Stevens a worldwide star five decades ago. Those who haven’t heard it should start there.

It takes a few spins for the tunes to register as some seem more like provocative set pieces than songs. But once they do, the thoughtful lyrics and sometimes diffuse sonics kick in.

The high bar he has set with a tremendous back catalog makes us yearn for just a bit more out of Mutineers.

The live 25-song audio concert is a solid performance, but the just above bootleg sound is compressed and tinny. The band plays only a few songs from their IRS days while reprising all but three Monster tunes. The hours worth of mostly instrumental demos, where a Stipe-less trio tests riffs and grooves without actual songs behind them, are pleasant but forgettable. ... Fans will be intrigued by the crisper sound of the [remix] where Stipe’s vocals and Peter Buck’s guitar – cranked up for the majority of the disc – are better defined.

Dark Night mostly fits together as an accomplished piece of downbeat concept-rock. The mood can get--to quote Chesnutt's song--"grim," but the artfulness shines through.

Without stronger, more diverse material, the whole frustratingly becomes less than the sum of its parts. Notwithstanding its good intentions, Sage Motel doesn’t resonate as forcefully as it should, especially in light of the amount of work clearly instilled into its creation.

Overall this is, perhaps not surprisingly, a mixed bag with enough impressive, even stirring moments to make it a moderately recommended listen, albeit one that too seldom validates its intent of bringing homespun country grit to the John/Taupin songbook.

The album as a whole is not perfect; Ward's decision to follow his experimental ear results in a few excusable setbacks. But at its core, A Wasteland Companion shows yet again why Ward can be placed in the higher echelon of contemporary American songwriters.