Beat Poetry Survivalists is a bold first step, and if some of the songs don’t quite hit the mark, it’s only because the two are intent on taking their partnership to certain extremes. And because risk sometimes leads to recklessness, a few missteps are not only inevitable but also forgivable.

With Say Nothing the band takes enough steps to both developing their lyrical content and staying musically contemporary to please hard rock fans who weren’t born when their debut was released and may have no idea who Ted Bundy, or even Nickelback, is.

This is a fun listen but also feels like a way for Hatfield to amuse herself, romping through a dozen interesting, far from essential interpretations of the Police’s music in 45 minutes as she works on new material.

The live 25-song audio concert is a solid performance, but the just above bootleg sound is compressed and tinny. The band plays only a few songs from their IRS days while reprising all but three Monster tunes. The hours worth of mostly instrumental demos, where a Stipe-less trio tests riffs and grooves without actual songs behind them, are pleasant but forgettable. ... Fans will be intrigued by the crisper sound of the [remix] where Stipe’s vocals and Peter Buck’s guitar – cranked up for the majority of the disc – are better defined.

Like his recently unpredictable behavior, it departs from what we’ve come to expect of him: gut-born artistry which connects on a human level. With this LP, he comes off concerned with fitting into an ideological mold, leaving no room for honest feelings and guided prose.

Like the music of Nick Drake, these subtle songs creep up on you after repeated listenings. Their supple strains, low key choruses and overall atmospheric vibe gradually become intriguing and often hypnotic. Still, a few upbeat selections would have helped make this medicine go down much easier.

If you’re already a fan of Banhart’s recent work, this slots firmly into that leisurely, often lovely vibe. He has shifted away from the quirky “freak folk” of his early years into something just as odd, even subversive, around its edges, but far more relaxed and enjoyable.

The outfit gets points for releasing an album comprising new compositions (minus Petty’s tune), which helps establish them as more than another ABB cover act, albeit one with undeniably valid credentials.

Even if there isn’t much meat here and the concepts are obtuse at best, the oddly titled Enderness (the beginning “T” is conspicuously, and intentionally, missing), taps into an enticing, low-key vibe that’s just as satisfying and far more personal.

Musically, the occasional horns, a fuller production, and a more structured overall approach makes this eighth release the tightest, most focused Felice Brothers album yet.

These indie rockers chug along with sufficient energy but few have memorable melodies or hooks. Tucker’s words, while well meaning, are often simplistic and preachy.

Although the style is more Knitters than X, the rawness to these tunes makes Shovels & Rope seem like ornery, indie folk-rockers.

These are not recognizable as songs in the traditional sense; there aren’t choruses, verses and bridges, or really much structure. Rather they are pieces, seemingly of a theatrical play for the ears, where Burnett waxes poetic and philosophical on a variety of disturbing topics.

Farrar’s emotionless approach and the muted instrumentation--issues that thread through all of Union--stultifies any sense of urgency, leaving the listener neither moved nor motivated to do anything other than drift off to sleep.

Some songs suffer from being underwritten and overplayed. Still, there are enough impressive moments to ensure that, at least on stage, they will detonate with the passion and soul the Tedeschi Trucks band generates at every show.

Generally missing, though, are hooks that bring you back for another listen. The songs are melodic and easy on the ears if not particularly memorable.

Listeners with liberal tastes and open ears will find enough quality music here to satisfy them for as long as it takes to plow through and absorb it all, which could be a while. Those new to the band will likely find their head spinning too quickly to grasp it all. But no one will complain it’s boring.

Workaholic producer Dave Cobb keeps Shooter’s sound polished proving that for better, and sometimes worse, Shooter Jennings can play by the country-rock rules when he wants to.

Ultimately the album is easier to appreciate as an unusual, occasionally successful and diverting artistic project that tries to make sense of Davies’ love and apprehension about America, than it is to enjoy.

At just over a half hour of music, we’re not getting anything fresh here--no outtakes, studio chatter, demos, remixes, nothing--which, in this day of easily being able to build your own playlist, seems at best like a waste of time and at worst a greedy cash grab aimed at those who can’t figure out how to create this themselves.

The result is sometimes sublime, sometimes noisy and chaotic.

There is a chilly, somewhat detached vibe that often overtakes the material, making it a challenge to unpack each of these dense selections on an album that’s easier to appreciate and admire than enjoy.

As much as the veteran musician should be complimented for his work ethic, he can do better than the overall competent but unexciting Tomorrow’s Daughter.

There are echoes of Bjork (a major influence), Depeche Mode and the earlier, more melodramatic tendencies of the Cure. While that references the older aspects of Wayman’s music, there’s also an enduring, durable and somewhat ageless vibe that keeps this from feeling retro.

A full orchestra occasionally adds more bloat to an already over-the-top sound.

While the playing remains somewhat generic and you can’t imagine the group without Price fronting it, Free Yourself Up refines and defines Lake Street Dive’s accessible, retro-leaning, radio-friendly pop aesthetic.

Despite a few missteps, Volunteer is a worthy next chapter for a group that continues do its best work when finding new ways to tell old stories.

It’s inoffensive, unobtrusive, innocuous and difficult to hate. But it’s also hard to get excited about as these songs quietly fade into the background like the music of the generally forgotten acts of the ’80s Rouse tries to emulate.