Ultimately, Dagger Beach isn’t the easiest listen--“bewildering” and “bizarre” are perhaps the better descriptions here--but for sheer daring and intrigue, Vanderslice finds fruition.

For those of you not so enamoured of the lo-fi, early ‘90s garage/punk crud the Memphis trio so brazenly and brilliantly pioneered, feel free to plug in your own “1” or “0” stars.

Immunity pounds and pulses with pneumatic energy, its rhythmic tracks (“Collider” but also “Open Eye Signal”) gleaming with machine-precise hedonism.

Howl is an unequivocal roots recording, an evocative combination of Bluegrass celebration, deep bottom Blues and total allegiance to authentic Americana.

It’s lyrically strong and musically tight--even as it drifts and frolics as easily as kite.

The music appears deceptively simple and unabashedly blithe at times, but regardless, the emotional undercurrent clearly comes through.

A musician capable of creating lush if sometimes unlikely arrangements, he uses his particular prowess as a means of fashioning spectacular soundscapes.

This is a dazzling album, steeped in soul and brimming with an uncommon musicality, all rhythmic urgency and compelling melodies and anthemic choruses.

The band’s pretty much stuck in nuevo Nirvanaland.

It’s as if the quartet decided to pay tribute to one of O’Malley’s chief inspirations: Earth. That sounds dull, but there’s something hypnotic about these songs.

Ministry of Love may wax gloomy but proves to be an enjoyable album that fans of IO Echo just may happily play repeatedly.

Tom Jones is almost 73 years old, is singing as well as he ever has while refusing to conform to his stereotypes, is artistically and perhaps spiritually searching and restless, and is recording perhaps the finest music of his long career.

The problem is the album starts to wear thin about halfway in and never really gets back the strength of those first few songs.

Though the sound is stripped down--limited mainly to voice, guitar and unusual atmospherics--the effect is also fairly frenzied and typically creepy as well.

It is not one thing (folk) or the other (post-rock, post-classical experiment) or even, really a blend of the two, but rather something fresh and idiosyncratic and worth exploring.

Patty Griffin has clearly been saving the best of her own material for a long time, making this perhaps her finest hour.

Listening back on the first couple of releases, its obvious Alkaline Trio has learned to inject more melody into their songs over the years, though My Shame Is True is closer to their punk-ier sound than the last few efforts.

These songs work well in small doses, but start to grate after repeat listens.

Power pop may not be as ubiquitous or even as relevant as it was in the Raspberries’ prime, but it still can be done well... just ask Mikal Cronin.

The songs on their second full length Baba Yaga are not immediately sticky, in fact they take some time sink in.

As exhibit A in a case made that Shuggie Otis is an overlooked talent, Inspiration Information + Wings of Love present powerful evidence.

The second half of the album finds the foursome relenting and mostly mellowing out.

He sounds more at home and natural on these [jazz] songs than on the country music for which he’s most celebrated, making Let’s Face the Music and Dance one of the most effortlessly enjoyable records in his large catalog.

For all that remarkable restraint, Dennison creates a stirring impression, making this convergence of emotion and execution equate to nothing less than pure, evocative bliss.

HEK’s second album makes him sound more confident, distinct and comfortable in his own skin but thankfully not more fancier than his 2011 debut.

On Ready to Die, Iggy & the Stooges sound hungry, ready not to expire but to prove something: that rock & roll is not dead and no one does it better.

Impossible Truth feels like both an empirical observation and an epiphany, a glimpse of the glow behind the world itself.

Despite his delicate--make that dainty--designs, Henson also knows how to set a fanciful mood, albeit one that’s singularly subdued.