Less niche cartoon-rave abroad, more classic-rock and baggy/disco. [Jun 2017, p.86]

Joan Shelley has a trick, at least, of making time disappear, her stately clear voice a rock at which the world flings itself in vain. [Jun 2017, p.86]

This is intended to be the lighter of the two albums although the stylistic differences aren't great. [Jun 2017, p.91]

The changing seasons--and death--haunt This Old Dog without ever hamstringing its perfectly weighted, sometimes deceptively chipper grooves. [Jun 2017, p.94]

An altogether more positive attempt to commune with nature. [Jun 2017, p.88]

A heady, volatile brew that, in these emboldened settings, have the makings of anthems. [Jun 2017, p.92]

A deeper return to that midnight shade of soul frontman Greg Dulli long ago made his own. The grungy tenor of the previous album is now mostly absent. [Jun 2017, p.94]

Slowdive is a surprisingly joyous return to the fray. [May 2017, p.90]

This is reflective country pop with a Van Zandt-ish warmth and wisdom. [May 2017, p.98]

Their ninth studio album is simultaneously more cosmic and conceptual than earlier efforts. [Jun 2017, p.89]

At the heart of Continuum and Incurably innocent are untamed pop melodies that writhe like snapped power-lines, while berserk closer Hostage Stamps is a glorious collision of Jane's Addiction, Minor Threat and Mahavishnu Orchestra. [Jun 2017, p.91]

It's on the Mellencamp/Carter duets Indigo Sunset and the tough, self-questioning What Kind Of Man Am I that it all shifts up a gear. [Jun 2017, p.93]

The sounds of surrounding life collaborating with art. [Jun 2017, p.86]

Wildly imaginative music. [Jun 2017, p.92]

Miraculously, the whole thing is given a neat completness by John Congleton's slick, electro-rock production. [Jun 2017, p.92]

A more sophisticated Harry Nilsson-like groove, but still keeping those Music City roots. [Jun 2017, p.95]

Sanborn's relentless modernism occasionally overwhelms Meath's sumptuous keening vocal and serpentine melodies. [Jun 2017, p.94]

The result is tender, powerful avant-rock to shake the walls. [Jun 2017, p.94]

Outlaw doesn't deliver six-pack sagas, instead he offers Bottomless Mimosas as a morning pick-me-up. [Jun 2017, p.93]

There's an appealing stealth and positivity to Ron's writing here. [Jun 2017, p.91]

Clever and cool, Season High is a career high. [Jun 2017, p.90]

A record that is demanding and compelling, though often beautiful. [Jun 2017, p.90]

Grand intermeshing spinneys of lush ambient sound, distant pounding beats, lonesome horns and glimpsed shadows of melody that hint at Beethoven, Mozart and older Teutonic ghosts. [Jun 2017, p.89]

Mulcahy follows the songs through rock, jazz and indie pop, from opening lullaby Stuck On Something Else to the Robert Wyatt-esque Geraldine, a rare and wise treat from an underrated songwriter. [Jun 2017, p.89]

It's soulful, spiritually questing--pretty much irresistible, too. [Jun 2017, p.88]

A boundlessly inventive and occasionally quite bonkers record that draws heavily on the input of its myriad guests. [Jun 2017, p.88]

Evilly powerful, filmic and flowing. [Jun 2017, p.88]

It's A Myth is like a musical Mondrian painting: all bold lines and defined patterns effortlessly delivered, but oblique and enigmatic too. [Jun 2017, p.87]