The band, seemingly surfacing out of nowhere has turned in an impressive dozen tracks with their first offering.

An album flush with both vicissitudes and vitality, What a Time to be Alive resonates with its resolve.

On Big Bad Luv, his fourth solo effort, Moreland continues his knack for writing impeccably perfect lyrics (“They got silver spoons for American gods/I wanna be stoned, thrown American rods”) on some of the best heartbreak songs since John Prine.

His writing has the kind of laconic detail and precision of a Paul Simon or Loudon Wainwright.

Pushin’ Against A Stone is an impressive calling card to the rest of the world that this, until now, under heralded artist is both an adept student of American folk music traditions and a modern day practitioner with perhaps preternatural talents.

It’s a good sign that Jones is open to anything on Super Natural, and that he can easily enhance his usual firebreathing rock & roll passion without diluting it.

Because it’s a soundtrack, where the music works in support of narrative and imagery, Atomic remains subdued.

Willie Nile, at 67, can still paint a picture with words and burn the house down from the stage. Savor it.

The preponderance of the material here creates its own world, on its own terms, and beckons you to go inside. And you will.

Those unawares of Deer Tick’s five preceding efforts ought to make every effort to catch up. Likewise, those who appreciate the band’s quality and consistency will find Vol. 1 and Vol. 2 to be a perfect pairing, as compatible as their titles imply.

Those unawares of Deer Tick’s five preceding efforts ought to make every effort to catch up. Likewise, those who appreciate the band’s quality and consistency will find Vol. 1 and Vol. 2 to be a perfect pairing, as compatible as their titles imply.

[A] sensational self-titled release. Mixing the album’s overall tone with soul, rock, electronic, and hip hop, the album has a vibe that is something close to Mike Patton’s baby Peeping Tom.

Some long-time fans may object to Lightning Bolts new legibility, missing the communal chaos and staticky buzz that made listening to previous outings like opening a box of bees. But the maelstrom still looms, the intensity remains, it’s just a bigger, more focused sound.

Clearly, Boz is back, and at age 70, he’s never sounded so assured.

They direct their efforts with a determined forward thrust that spills over the melodic parameters with a celebratory display of rock ‘n’ roll revelry.

There’s a lot here, all of it sounding exquisite.

He’s brought the whole Destroyer vibe to an entirely non-Destroyer set of material, and you can feel the waves of cool detachment, of stylish artifice wafting off these tunes just the same as always.

These salad days have been solid days for the Salad Boys, no matter how you toss it, making them a sterling addition to their musically rich NZ heritage. Pleasurable neural sensations are guaranteed.

With this supremely supple and joyous display of early innocence and promise, Aztec Camera showed they already come into their own.

They hit their stride midway through on a trio of sweet ballads--“Rock in the River,” “Jackie Boy” and “All That’s Left”--and although the surrounding songs keep to the same tone and tempo, those three numbers give the album its emotional imprint.

Gonzalez paints broad strokes on this vast musical landscape, and although a wee long, Hurry Up, We're Dreaming may be his conceptual masterpiece.

There's plenty more good and bad.

Though his songwriting skills have rarely come to the fore, the quality of the material here--all of which he wrote, save a pair of covers--makes these tunes first rate.

To drag out a well worn cliché, The Best of Quantic is the proverbial embarrassment of riches, but boy is that true. This is just a feast of plenty for anyone interested at all in smart, sophisticated, well conceived and recorded global music in the 21st century.

A Wasteland Companion belies its foreboding title, largely eschewing the hushed introspection that's cast a pall over previous efforts in favor of, well, a sound that's at least marginally more hopeful.

With Pan the band has created an album that places them squarely amongst the pantheon of musicians they so obviously adore.

Only four songs on here but it's a good four songs.

Thomas Brenneck has crafted ten seamlessly funky and beautifully played and arranged instrumental tracks in search of a film.

The combination of the two disparate methods of performance made for quite an extraordinary menagerie of styles that will definitely appeal to hip-hop, art pop and world music fans alike.

These 14 songs sound as wholly irresistible now as they did when they were such an essential part of a soundtrack for a now-distant decade.

This is an essential CD for both the serious and casual fan.

Apparently Cartwright exorcised his punk rock demons with Desperation, as Shattered is the band’s most accessible record yet.

This band seems poised for some kind of breakthrough and Tiger Talk seems as a good a place as any for this to happen.

There is not a single track on this record that doesn’t belong, each nearly flawless in their own way.

These songs may not scan perfectly or make much objective sense, but they feel very real and relevant and uncalculated.

An exceptionally strong debut record, Soul Power will make you believe in the title concept.

Where The Action Is may not be the absolute rave-up the album title implies, but it is a remarkably incisive effort that ought to remind one and all what a singularly important ensemble the Waterboys were… and still remain.

Pink City is her prettiest, most cohesive work yet. It’s well-constructed enough to showcase the weirdness that crops up in her songs without making her seem like a novelty act.

This artistic upgrade from their previous work is further enhanced by a significant expansion of their sonic arsenal, including piano, cello, Mellotron and female backing vocals courtesy of Crystal Stilts/Dum Dum Girls/Vivian Girls drummer Frankie Rose.

What he does best is craft heart-string cautionary tales.

There’s nary a moment missed by the band to demonstrate that Sharon Jones is one of the greatest female vocalist currently operating.

Berkeley To Bakersfield is the perfect shotgun rider for any road trip. With the breadth of its variety no other music passengers need be invited along for the ride.

It has the breadth, intelligence, mystery and ambitious arrangements of a major work. With 19 songs, it's maybe a touch too long, but almost every song is vivid in its poetry and instrumental coloration.

Almost by accident, it seems, you can hear memory, skill and poetry converging in a lonely kitchen with a baby sleeping nearby.

All said and done, thumbs up on Polizze’s songwriting, the trio’s playing, as well as production work on Weirdon.

The result is a fantastic record, powerful in its calmness.

It’s a fierce, fun and unforgettable album that would be an achievement for a singer/songwriter of any age, but particularly for one on the far side of 60.

The result of the collaboration is a gorgeous set of songs set in late-night bars after work, as denizens tell their stories with the appropriate tenor of resignation and hope.

There are new elements here, but they've been brought into a foundation so strong they cannot help but fit in on only on Yo La Tengo's terms.

Dire and descriptive, You Can’t Go Back If There’s Nothing To Go Back To numbing melancholia is uncommonly compelling.

With consistently strong songwriting and an intrepid grasp on its own talent, the Joy Formidable has in Wolf's Law a near-perfect follow-up record: it moves the band forward while staying true to what made it appealing and exciting in the first place.

Royal Headache's debut begins in a pounding, pummeling riff-based rampage, all double-timed guitar strumming and frantic one-two drumming. "Never Again," the lead off track, runs as fast and hard and ragged as any punk anthem, taking the corners with two wheels off the ground.

A free-form lyrical approach leads Vangaalen into phantasmically beautiful byways, with both the music and the words floating up and away.

Lion is certainly king of its own dark and sublime, concrete industrial jungle. It roars strong and, at times, purrs in all the right places.

The band’s Miami mix of Folk, Rockabilly, Jazz and Blues-based Holiday music is simply divine.

With U feels fresh, new and mysterious.

While Neko Case’s moonlighting from her solo day job allows her to enliven the proceedings, it’s obvious that the ensemble, as a whole, contributes to the richness and resonance that the new album exudes in its entirety.

The mixtape of emotions Trentemoller has produced on Lost is proof of his virtuosity.

Isaak has somehow managed to make the homage almost as enjoyable as the originals. Almost.

The Hospitality of yore does appear on some of the tracks, but it’s clear the group has pushed itself towards newer territories which, while a little enigmatic at first, suit them perfectly.

A magical must.

Yessir Whatever may not be as essential as other titles in the extensive Madlib library, but is definitely worth checking out if you dig the id of his art.

For all the new sonic waves undulating through this record, however, the band's distinctive identity still shines--there's no mistaking Marble Son for the work of anyone else, and it's the ability to evolve while still remaining true to core values that makes Jesse Sykes & the Sweet Hereafter great.

As the title suggests, The River & The Thread manages to surge and sway all at the same time. Indeed, it doesn’t get much better than this.

Forever Sounds (Shake It/Damnably) is a kaleidoscopic, sonic soundscape, engagingly recorded at John Curley’s (Afghan Whigs) facility, Ultrasuede Studios.

If Laswell hasn't made his masterpiece--and it's easy to argue that he has--clearly he's come close.

Eitzel and Butler work so well together one hopes that this collaboration doesn’t end with the remarkable Hey Mr [sic] Ferryman.

While the band clearly has an advantage, being able to handpick songs that were already pretty stellar to begin with, credit is due to the hard Working Americans for not simply churning out carbon copies, but slathering plenty of loose blues, jam band raucousness and stoner charm, to make these songs their own.

Spend enough time with Lost Time and you’ll find yourself singing snatches of lyrics about the west coast tsunami (“I Love Seattle”) or misogynist trolls (“The Internet”) in the shower. And, weirdly, it’ll be fun.

Ledges may be a quiet album but it resonates with strong emotions in its own low-key way.

These days lots of different bands/songs are called noise pop, but these folks are doing it right.

With Positively Bob, Nile manages to make one of the few cover albums worth owning.

Modern Creation may not their best collections of songs--that honor is still held by 2012’s Enjoy the Company--but there’s still some damn fine tunes to be found here.

While not much new ground is broken on A Forest of Arms, and it fails to surpass 2012’s excellent New Wild Everywhere, something can be said for the additional polish the music gets from heavy string embellishment and rather refined production values.

If this all sounds sort of strange or back-handed, that can be attributed to the fact that Strange Mercy takes a few listens to grasp, and it makes the repeat visits enticing. And that's a sign of a strong album.

Buy It’s Her Fault, a 12-pack, then enjoy the ride.

Unison chants (“Kaani”) and stray bursts of percussion (“Nouvel”) punctuate the multi-lingual songs, but the dominant timbre is a delicious, delirious clang.

From the opening cut of “Earthen Gate” the songs nudge, heave, shove and then finally bulldoze their way to your hearts.

In Between takes more spins to reveal its charms than is usual for the Feelies, but the effort pays off handsomely.

Thanks to this well-constructed compilation CD (including a very informative booklet), his legacy will be exposed to a new generation of musicians, and music fans.

It's an A-list of contributors for sure, but what's most impressive is how Hogan makes each offering her own.

Year of No Returning may not be the definitive post-Harpoons Furman record – he’s got another one coming this fall--but it is an album to build on.

He still has plenty to communicate, his music not losing any creative potency over the years.

Bradley and his band are such great interpreters and expanders of the soul tradition that you don’t mind the nagging feeling that you’ve heard these cuts before.

Phillips’ very considerable skill is in getting to the core of an idea, stripping it down to essentials and then shading it subtly with cross-currents of meaning and musical counterpoint.

Not as prolific as some of his peers, it’s easy to forget what a great musician Wolf is. Thankfully, this new one serves as a fresh reminder.

Costello, James, Mumford, Goldsmith and Giddens put their disparate origins aside and pull together as a team. They clearly own these songs, and ply them accordingly. Both credence and comradery play crucial roles here, elevating this effort to that of an essential acquisition.

Consolidation more than innovation, The Glowing Man still presents the current incarnation of Swans in its best light, as if this is the record the band has been working toward these past seven years.

Like it or not, the synths are here to stay, and The Minimal Wave Tapes Volume Two adds several more fascinating pieces to the puzzle.

The name of this project might be 7 Days of Funk, but there’s enough groove in this mofo to last a lifetime.

Louis Armstrong may have provided the raw material for Ske-Dat-De-Dat: The Spirit of Satch, but make no mistake: this is a Dr. John LP through-and-through. As it should be.

This is quite overtly a party record.

They exit the proverbial time warp tunnel with a sophisticated release that beckons recollections of classic rock groups while forging their own sound. Influences from Buddy Holly to Beach Boys to even The Beatles are felt on Uncle, Duke & the Chief and Born Ruffians rightfully stand in good company.

Yet aside from that one cut, Megafaun's self-titled album seamlessly integrates an easy-going tuneful-ness with a nearly mystical devotion to tone and texture.

Backed by his acoustic guitar, a fiddle player, a bass and little else, Millsap’s record has a timelessness that will preserve it well years from now.

Despite the unlikely set-up, there’s a classic archetypical feel to the set as a whole.

Here, together again, they pick up more or less where they left off, slipping subdued hooks into strummy reveries and spiking easy breezy tunes with jarring, occasional violent lyrics.

They come back hard and a bit more focused on this terrific sophomore effort.