One imagines certain purist fans recoiling and dropping out while a host of newcomers discover ‘em.

Holy Ghost finds him coming across as remarkably unassuming, a casual, somewhat weary traveller bound for a yet undetermined destination.

Worship the Sun has the lemonade-y ambiguity of all good pop.

An impressively ambitious feat no doubt, but this album would probably be better served with a little more restraint.

ild Animals may be an exaggerated description, but their willingness to explore other environs still ensures ongoing interest.

His ability to arrange is masterful and, on Way Out Weather, he establishes this sort of psychedelic roots sound that exists outside of about any recognizable genre or even sub-genre.

This is My Hand is one big ball of skill, imagination and love of musical creation.

There’s an uncommon depth here that hasn’t been evidenced on Williams records in ages, both in the sonics (an immaculately crafted blend of intimate and widescreen) and the lyrics, which at times are deeply confessional and others downright defiant as the songwriter stares down her demons, the vicissitudes of relationships and the rampant idiocy of the outside world.

The sounds that seem most real and certain disintegrate as you listen to them, while the ones that might be an illusion drift into proximity, obscuring all else.

Many of the songs on here just aren’t very memorable.

Taken as a whole, Sukierae is a much different experience, exhibiting a labor of love in the truest sense--a family affair that bridges the generational gap to offer a little something for everyone.

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

Ultimately, this is a record full of brilliant Richard Thompson songs given strong readings.

Lullaby and... The Ceaseless Roar is the all-encapsulating masterpiece we all knew Robert Plant the solo artist had in him the entire time.

Brooding, menacing, haunting, even elegiac--we feel the Earth move across the emotional spectrum, rumbling through its soundscapes with eyes closed and amps set to stun.

El Pintor is not Antics or Turn on the Bright Lights, there are not as many immediate hooks and riffs that were present on these earlier releases; instead, the solid music on El Pintor unveils a nuanced mellowing that has taken over the last two releases from Interpol.

The London trio has hit its stride, churning meatier, heavier grooves without sinking into sonic muck.

Despite all odds, Into the Wide is Delta Spirit’s most driven effort yet, a rousing, riveting attempt to create an indelible impression.

Every tune serves the moment, like a series of self-contained filmic miniatures whose character sketches, though brief, are utterly memorable, with those sketches’ accompanying sonics just as resonant.

Even stripping off the gloss doesn’t help, because there’s not much under it.

With songs as downcast and despondent as “False From True,” “Worthy” and the title track, the steady ache doesn’t abide all that quickly. That said, Trouble & Love does find some cause to break the stranglehold of sadness and despair.

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.

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.

The themes that combine to create this opus are also suitably sprawling, with subjects that touch upon key events and cultural touchstones essential to British history.

Shovels & Rope displays a firm grip on its craft on Swimmin’ Time, and a willingness to use it in service of any stylistic boulevard it chooses to walk.

The record is a slow built; one that will likely take a few listens to finally grab the listener. But when it does take hold, these songs are hard to shake loose.

With Easy Pain, the trio go full fang on this fourth LP, harkening back to the most extreme aspects of Louisville loudness.

Manipulator represents a defining statement from a musician that should enjoy a long, healthy career to come.

These 12 songs can work individually or as a whole, depending on your mood and in the end they’ve done it again, one of 2014′s best.

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.

For most, this will make superb background music for meditation or musing, a tangled tapestry that’s ideal as a soundtrack for seduction.

Breaking away from their by now trademark South Jersey, cruising with the radio on brand of punk rock that first got them noticed, the band is likely to alienate some early fans with Get Hurt. In doing so, however, The Gaslight Anthem is doing much more to preserve the band in the long run, evolving at a steady, but satisfying clip.

The Alvins don’t tamper with Broonzy’s basic template, and truth be told, their feisty renditions of “All By Myself,” “Key to the Highway,” “Big Bill Blues” and practically every other song on this set sound as if they’re of a vintage variety.

SB makes hermetic/occult music by design, made to appeal to cults and that’s what makes them so proudly unique. Nevertheless, here’s hoping that next time, their ambitions include stretching out their songs and their ideas stuffed inside each tune.

Meteorites is a clarion call to all of their followers, from the Flaming Lips to Interpol, that Echo & The Bunnymen have finally come back to reclaim their rightful place back in front of the spotlight.

Country Funk II is an archivist’s delight.

The word “essential” is bandied about quite a bit these days in reference to landmark recordings. Yet, here it applies in every sense. CSNY 74 is one for the ages.

If Provider was Webb reveling moment-to-moment in a new life, Free Will comes to terms with the fact that the more you live, the less you know.

The band allegedly recorded this one just for fun, with little intention of ever releasing it. You know a group has hit its stride when even its goof offs are worth releasing.

What you end up with on End Times Undone, is a trance-y, pop-psych, hypno-rhythmic romp that showcases a group of players that have magically meshed into a single hive-mind, behind the very talented Mr. K., at the top of his game.

Given that parts of the album seem intentionally radio-ready, there’s reason to suspect the Rosebuds may have shed their thornier side to win greater acceptance. Happily though, they’re able to dispute that notion with entries that remain unerringly intriguing.

All in all, United States demonstrates McLagan’s allegiance to a pure pop mantra.

Muffs fans, then, are the ultimate winners here, as it sounds like Shattuck & Co. are having the collective time of their life.

Although it’s easy to lament the fact that Petty and the Heartbreakers don’t vary all that much from their usual template. Hypnotic Eye also affirms the fact they remain an austere and unapologetic outfit.

Weird Little Birthday is one of those albums that sounds like nothing much the first couple times you hear it, before you begin to lock onto the war between musical ease and lyrical dislocation.

It may not carry quite the swagger of Sweet Apple’s first album, but The Golden Age of Glitter still proves to be shiny indeed.

Not everything needs to be emoted so hard, not every line requires an instrumental ta-dah! Try a little simplicity next time. It makes the big swells all the more impressive.

Corb Lund, the former Canadian punk rocker turned roots country singer, is back with his eighth record and has settled into a comfortable, stripped down grove with a little lap steel thrown in for good measure.

Newcomers may not find Similar Skin the ideal place to begin, but longtime admirers will probably swoon in awe.

If, after four decades, Terms of My Surrender appears to take a change of tune, in Hiatt’s hands it’s a winning formula regardless.

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

Quever’s songs are meant to provide sweet succor, not catharsis, and in that Life Among the Savages proves to be pretty good company.

She long ago proved herself worthy of the family legacy, but Carter Girl would be a highlight of her substantial discography regardless of familial stamp.

Like most prolific artists, Willie can be hit or miss with his offerings. This latest one lands the target dead on.

It’s a little too smoothed out and indistinct now--most of the songs are well crafted but a little TOO well crafted.

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 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.

The evolution may be jarring to diehards who loved the band’s take on old-time string band folk, but Black Prairie’s skill at playing its own version of rock brushes aside any carping.

More than any previous Timber Timbre record, Hot Dreams simmers sonically with the chaos lurking just below these surfaces. Rarely does such calm feel so utterly foreboding.

Unlike Waits of late, she works hard to not let the songs become just moody soundscapes. She doesn’t always completely achieve this, but does so enough to make this a success.

On their fourth album in a decade, the Donkeys don’t have surprises so much as a more confident and accomplished execution.

Chock full of affirmation and illumination, Bright Side of Down is just the perfect pick-me-up for these frequently turbulent times.

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

These nine songs are dusty and determined, stoic ruminations on hard luck and happenstance.

The band’s latest evolution is bound to shed some fans of the old lineup, but the music here is interesting enough to attract some new listeners as well.

Ultimately, Whispers suggests a kind of sublime sensibility, sentiments that will hopefully encourage all potential fellow travelers to quickly get on board.

The album’s arrangements and standout musicianship--including pedal-steel and slide guitarist Greg Leisz and Henry’s son Levon on clarinet--is a reminder that Henry’s extraordinary production work is second to none.

One should not have to turn in anywhere from one-to-two-hours of wages to hear the old coot warble out Willie Nelson’s “On The Road Again”, regardless of how novel the way by which he crafted it.

Talent and skill overflow from the fingertips of the members of Trans Am, but that doesn’t mean they should let it make a mess on the carpet.

With her almost stream of consciousness talk-sing, some melodies on Somewhere Else are better formed than others. Like Patti Smith her songs can be as strong ultimately as the care invested in her hooks.

Sunbathing Animal offers up lucky-13 tracks and nary a stale song.

Overall there’s a principled (but never overbearing) humanism guiding her worldview. And her songs definitely rock, if never in a way that overpowers her words.

Sisyphus is ultimately as off the wall a release as you’ll likely encounter this year.

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.

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

The result is an album that’s unfailingly engaging, and, unsurprisingly, wholly exceptional at that.

Revelation hardly pushes the boundaries of what the BJM can do, but it’s nice to hear the band reiterating what it does best.

Establishing her forceful new identity from the start, Goodman makes music with an infectious enthusiasm.

Syd Arthur avoids any whiff of trendiness and just gets down to the business of writing and performing timeless music on its second record Sound Mirror.

Ultimately, Wine Dark Sea is all about the mystique, making it nothing less than a fascinating ethereal excursion.

Love ‘em or loathe ‘em, they provide the clearest picture of what Gira and Swans are trying to do.

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

Not flawless, but damn it’s still a fine effort from beginning to end.

Interesting juxtapositions proliferate, but Ava Luna often seems to be pursuing oddity for its own sake. The best cuts here are the most unitary.

On the second album by Minneapolis four-piece Howler, an energy level worthy of forebears the Replacements, Soul Asylum and even, in places, Husker Du is dialed up, making such tracks as the thrumming/thrashy “Indictment” and the hardcore-tilting “Drip” buzz around the listener’s head like so many hornets.

Lack of predictability appears to guide Finn’s pursuits, making for a white knuckled ride all the way.

Modestly presented but appropriately self-confident in its dedication to craft, Hendra is a low-key but sturdy delight.

While this isn’t an earth shattering album, it is a solid one which serves as a reminder of what a talent she can be when she decides to get in touch.

His vocals are delivered with such breezy casualness, you almost miss the poetry in the words. Pair that with the brilliant musicianship and it’s simply confounding that Bare and his band aren’t as big as groups like Arcade Fire and My Morning Jacket at this point.

All of Mess has an enjoyably menacing feel that will prove inviting to Liars fans and new listeners alike.

Albarn has just unveiled quite arguably the best album of his career--solo or otherwise--with Everyday Robots.

The result is slightly uneven, but ultimately has some fantastic songs on it.

Though the band seems to have packed all of its musical interests and abilities into the album’s 11 songs, this is a most likely only a sampling of their capabilities and of the colorful ideas yet to spring from the mind of Jocie Adams.

Some of the songs here are better than others (even with more than four decades of hanging out with everyone from Willie Nelson to Keith Richards, there is only so much cred you can breathe into a Paul Anka song), but there is hardly any track here that hasn’t earned the right to stay.

They still have that dirty, carefree, uncompromising vibe, but on Underneath the Rainbow it’s able to be tamed, morphing into melodic garage rock that’s as catchy and easily digestible as it is rugged and in-your-face.

Granduciel’s songs envelop you. As soon as you understand the lyrics for one song, another song buries words in hushed reverb.

Rarely do mistakes of one’s youth sound so beautiful.

While this is Hurray For The Riff Raff’s strongest record to date, it’s doubtful this is a peak. Keep Segarra on your radar.