A remarkable recording, it can easily be considered an album for the ages.

They’re still unabashedly clicked into late ’60s-early ‘70s bygone rock, and Starcatcher is, indeed, classic Greta Van Fleet.

Other piano-based narratives like the closing “Angel Blues” are delicate, pretty, and charming, but edge dangerously close to schlocky and don’t play to Lofgren’s tougher talents. Thankfully there’s enough solid material here displaying Lofgren’s impressive vocal, instrumental, and songwriting qualities to punch another notch on his belt of good but not great albums.

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.

The slower songs—“Stranger Things,” “Goodbye Mary,” “The First Time I Fell In Love,” “More Like a River,” and the aforementioned “When My Race Is Run” in particular—assure an emotional essence remains intact throughout. Taken in tandem, then, this City of Gold shines bright indeed.

They [vault songs] offer something completely new, which is what many people expect from an album release, but they aren’t the most interesting thing about Speak Now (Taylor’s Version), in my opinion. .... That matured, time-honed voice coming out of Swift in her latest re-recording is a mirror image of a fan base who has weathered the storm and come out the other end with her.

These stories resonate with strength and an irrepressible spirit few other artists can summon. Williams’ ability to persevere over issues that would sideline lesser talents and create music this impressive is a testament to the vitality of her rock ’n’ roll heart.

He continues his streak as one of this country’s most prolific and talented players, singers, and songwriters in an inimitable “electric swamp funkin’ blues” genre he pretty much owns.

Ultimately, Orpheus Descending ranks as one of the most commanding and compelling albums of Mellencamp’s entire career.

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.

LaVette is clearly in her element throughout, delivering Bramblett’s words with as much emotion as anyone could squeeze out of them. Producer Jordan supports her with a band of pros that never upstages the star. Call it a win-win for the writer and singer, spotlighting the talents of both, with this thrilling, often electrifying work.

Consider Shadow Kingdom another opportunity to seize on a fabled legacy while reminding the world yet again that certain songs never go out of style.

Clark has an outstanding cast of supporting players helping to underscore her intents, among them, Derek Trucks, Lucius, guitarist Judd Hughes, drummer Matt Chamberlain, bassist Sebastian Steinberg, and of course Carlile herself. Nevertheless, Clark can claim credit for this remarkably revealing record and for having the courage to convey these tattered truths so well.

Those memorable, sweeping, soaring melodies the older Gallagher is known for prevail. Horns adorn some selections but it’s the strings, recorded at Abbey Road, which push these songs from very good to the next level.

Another classy, sublime entry in the group’s expansive resume, one that has remarkably few missteps.

It’s an inspired performance. Stills is in fine form, vocally, on guitar, banjo (a searing “Know You’ve Got to Run,” a precursor to Déjà Vu’s “Everybody I Love You”) and even pounding the piano for a ragged but committed mash-up of “49 Bye Byes” and the Buffalo Springfield’s “For What It’s Worth.”

To say it sounds like another great Sparks set might be damning it with faint praise.

The material is softly lit and effortlessly assured, conveying the calming and caressing sound that all so frequently added its soothing sobriety to CSN and CSNY (Crosby Stills Nash & Young), respectively. That’s not to say there aren’t rallying cries included as well. Both “Golden Idols” and “Stars and Stripes” recall the outraged anthem of old.

Seven Psalms is certainly an intriguing album, but not necessarily one that will reflect the faith of his followers.

The arrangements are both agile and emphatic, by turns jaunty, gyrating, and exuberant.

While it’s not necessarily the kind of record that’s going to grab immediate attention, it does retain an amiable accessibility all its own. In that regard, listeners might just find that The Tallest Man On Earth makes music that’s all within an easy reach.

Ultimately, The New Pornographers specialize in creating a most satisfying sound—the effusive rush of “Bottle Episodes” and “Angelcover,” being two of the more obvious examples—while also making music that begs repeat listens in order to fully grasp the magnitude of their overarched intents.

Jean’s vocals are on the thin side, especially for music that punches and pounds like the majority of these tracks. But she delivers her often dark-edged lyrics with the louche, ice-queen nonchalance of Debbie Harry and Belinda Carlisle which suits this snaking vibe.

As always, Crowell is in prime form, and the ten songs that make up the set list hold to the high standard he’s known for.

The end result is an album that demands a concerted listen in order to fully appreciate all the tones and textures it has to offer. With Spectral Lines, Josh Ritter continues to blur the boundary between melody and mystique.

On The Hypnogogue, the quintet creates fluid moods, moving in idiosyncratic directions while maintaining the shadowy gaze that has defined The Church’s style. Still, a few more songs like the relatively pop-oriented “C’est La Vie” would help elevate and energize the album by varying its consistency.

Often moody, intermittently lovely, if cautionary, set.

The performances smartly stick to rockers since the few ballads (“Guernica” and “No Hard Feelings”), while darkly tuneful, expose the limitations of Hunter’s voice, now a shadow of his “All the Young Dudes” heyday. But give him credit for refusing to tweak it with electronic enhancers and writing some terrific tunes, which he attacks with more vigor than many a quarter of his age.