He just hides his eccentricities a little better this time. You have to look for them, but they’re there.

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.

Prophet can be, by turns, both snarky and sardonic, qualities the aforementioned forebears know all too well. Happily though, he himself is no slacker, especially when it comes to both sentiment and sarcasm.

As a tribute, Dead Man’s Town: A Tribute to Born in the USA is fine enough; just falling short of the material it champions.

The first sketches of songs that would later buttress both Dylan and the Band’s songbook--“Tears of Rage,” “Nothing Was Delivered,” “I Shall Be Released,” You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere,” Don’t Ya Tell Henry,” “Quinn the Eskimo,” “Million Dollar Bash,” “Lo and Behold!” and the like--offer a treasure trove of revelation, making the anticipation for acquisition well worth the wait.

If anything, Atlas sounds like a fully formed album from another era, complete with woozy harmonies, an assured shimmer and a constant jangle.

On the album’s second half, Foster and her producer/bassist Meshell Ndegeocello steer more towards a softer sound (“Learning To Fly,” “New”) that glosses over some of Foster’s grit. Still highlights are easy to find.

It’s been an odd and unpredictable mix at times, but Mould’s always made a point of indulging his interest with passion and integrity.

Nobody has ever really sounded like Chrome but Chrome, and that makes Feel It Like a Scientist sound as fresh now as it did back in the bad old days.

The well crafted moments within Our Love outshines the weaker numbers and makes the album a fun and danceable listen.

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.