The album is so beautifully performed and meticulously crafted that its heartfelt, smooch-ready nature will likely result in at least a few babies born nine months after release.

There is really not much to separate this from the late-period, post-millennial albums that Cohen started churning out to ease financial issues, and those records maintained an imposingly high standard.

Layers of distortion and droning feedback pour from the speakers, almost fighting the melodies for dominance (and losing), with everything coming together in an organic, unforced manner. [Mar 2014, p.90]

Three discs worth of rehearsals are hit and miss; many songs are fragmentary and others don’t match the eventual live versions. Plus, the live shows don’t vary all that much in their set lists. Casual fans will probably stick with the ten or so Dylan songs they play on satellite radio. But true fans will greedily gobble this up and be more than pleased.

This is more than just a stroll down memory lane since the emotions and lost love laments remain timeless, as does the sound of a man who understands his musical strengths and plays to them with class, authority and soul searching intensity.

It’s an interstellar pop journey well worth taking.

Her eighth studio release flows with remarkable continuity. Notwithstanding the melancholy circumstances, Moorer is rocking out forcefully on chugging, swampy gems.

Tape Deck Heart [is] the kind of album that doesn’t just tell us what it feels like to have your heart cut out, it practically puts us on the operating table during the surgery – which, of course, happens before the anesthesia kicks in. And he does it so well, we willingly bleed right along with him.

With Treasure of Love, The Flatlanders’ reverence for their roots stays true to its title.

As much as this album sounds like a final chapter, a loose-end knotting affair designed as a summary statement, there are no subplots left unresolved.

LaFarge’s slight country drawl and understated twang nails the ’20s period the music evokes, and the effort is even more rewarding than Diana Krall’s recent endeavor in the same genre.

This type of music has been done before in a different time, same place--the album was recorded in Nashville--but it hasn't been done this well in quite a while.

Tuttle’s supple voice, nimble award winning guitar chops and obvious love for the material carries these versions.

Price breaks down any barriers left around her on this record to great appeal. In just 10 songs, she manages to tell a lifetime of stories that are captivating from start to finish.

Headphones enhance the experience as they help immerse the listener in Robertson’s edgy, creative and literate world.

It’s an excellent way for new fans to have a pure entryway to their music, and the only possible appetizer before diving into the extras that come next: some an acquired taste, some amazing snapshots in time and some quirky bits that will probably only get a nostalgic spin or two.

Most of the extraneous contributions are little more than negligible. ... Any live album that showcases their classics—and, as in this case, makes room for some newer offerings as well (“All and Chain,” “Tea and Theatre,” “Hero Ground Zero”) is, by degree, an essential additive to the band’s continuing catalog. So too, both Daltrey and Townsend are in fine form, and clearly up to the task of presenting the group’s catalog in the best light.

Those new to, or unfamiliar with, Bowie’s expansive catalog would do well to start here and older followers who have lost the plot, especially over the past ten years, can catch up to one of the most consistently challenging artists of the past five decades.

The impact of Bloom lingers long after Scally's last guitar moan and Legrand's last breathy sigh, making you want to cue it up all over again and wallow anew in Beach House's existential abyss.

This is no Rod Stewart-styled mushy romp. It’s a serious, wildly and sometimes radically adventurous reimagining of often obscure entries from the great American songbook and like little you’ve heard or would expect.

While a number of other covers grace the set like Merle Haggard’s “Working Man Blues” and Johnny Cash and June Carter’s “Jackson,” the group also penned some fantastic originals.

The Voyager, however, is Lewis’ most cohesive and powerful set of songs since her Rilo Kiley days.

Considering the hit or miss variables of other such tributes, Dead Man’s Town is remarkably focused and consistent.

Duster have finally found their audience in 2019, and their self-titled album shows that the band still has a lot left up their sleeve.

The disc, with its 20 page book of notes and details on Johnson’s short life (he was 45 when he passed in 1947), is beautifully packaged, making this a wonderful and longtime gestating homage to one of America’s most treasured, if often overlooked, blues and gospel singers. But, at under 45 minutes, you’re left wanting more.

She effortlessly combines her vocal, lyrical and melodic gifts into a perfect storm on the shimmering and often spellbinding Putting on Airs.

This is another tasteful and tasty JJ Cale set, one that comfortably slots in with the rest of his similarly styled catalog. It’s like he never left.

Circuital sounds like a reaction to the extravagances of its predecessor. My Morning Jacket tamper their more evil urges and settle back into being a solid rock band.