Like its simple, evocative cover painting of puffy white clouds drifting by a window, Khruangbin’s music hangs and hovers, creating an ethereal ambiance beckoning the listener to explore more of their addictive, atmospheric sound.

The concept of “country rock” seems clichéd at this late date, but Shook and band exemplify how that amalgamation remains effective when the writing, singing, and lyrical concepts are as sharply conceived as on the illuminating Revelations.

The contemplative sound of the album’s most beautiful ballads “Sure As the Rain,” “Ghost” and “Between Us There Is Music” are calming and captivating, even though the eerie ambiance and atmosphere may suggest otherwise.

Like R.E.M., this package is classy and creatively designed. It illuminates a challenging yet fulfilling turning point in the group’s impressive and influential legacy.

Given that these performances take on a sparse demo-like approach, the intimacy is obvious and revealing, as if the listener is eavesdropping on the artist at a particularly vulnerable moment, or even more likely, while he’s simply opting to run through some songs for his own pleasure and satisfaction.

This is not to say that this golden anniversary collection doesn’t do a perfectly respectable job. .... But with only one album of original material since the compilation in 2000, and a startling lack of liner notes in the 23-page booklet (the previous one boasted a book twice as long and far more comprehensive), there is little reason for this to exist other than to rake in some bucks by repackaging content any fan already has or for whoever doesn’t already own this material.

There is still a lot to like on Welcome 2 Collegrove. Wayne is still rapping like he is in his prime as an artist, as his auto-tuned, crooned flow will never get old. Add to this the ever-amusing, boisterous flows from 2 Chainz, which contrast well with Wayne’s delivery. It just feels like, at times, a sharp-minded executive producer could have done wonders for the rhythm of the track list.

Rather than sticking to his bread and butter, Busta had his sights set on bold instrumental choices that he didn’t mesh well with, trendy samples that came across as tacky, and far too few awe-inspiring or substantive performances. And because of that, Blockbusta fell short of what it claimed to be.

C’est La Vie is a welcome return for Madness, an outfit most wouldn’t have expected to deliver a project so musically or lyrically complex, and enjoyable, this late in their career.

As much as the record is a tribute to rock and roll, it is as much a testament to Parton’s prestige. Who else could gather so many for a party in honor of the genre? Indeed, the album is a show for the ages, a show for one and all. Standing ovation.

The one-woman production preserves Lynne’s style yet dials down the theatrics to not quite garage band levels, making it one of the most successful outings in her ongoing covers project series.

For the most part however, Coyote is a stealth-like affair, filled with suspenseful circumstance. Likewise, it’s an impressive achievement that ought to bring LeBlanc the further recognition he so decidedly deserves.

Although his sound is more varied than ever, the collection of songs feels cohesive. He’s never been an artist too confined by genre lines, but Higher lets Stapleton roam free creatively.

As a one-off project, this is an enjoyable romp, especially for Cat Power fans. Chan Marshall applies her stamp on material she loves, the live atmosphere enhances the enthusiasm, the audio is crisp and the show successfully accomplishes what it sets out to do. But it’s no replacement for the real thing.

Price’s ability to mesh elements from rock, soul, country, and beyond to craft her own modernized yet classic sound shines on tracks like “Where Did We Go Wrong.” Although the project is a departure from the traditional country sound of her early albums, every song feels authentic and distinctly her own.

Morrison and his always top-shelf musicians knock out these songs as if they’re hanging around the studio, having a party playing music they love without knowing tapes are running.

An illuminating effort in absolutely every regard, Nothing Lasts Forever is easily one of the most memorable musical encounters you’ll hear this year.

An excellent example of a sound served up on a vibrant and expressive musical palette. It bears an air of familiarity that could easily lead one to believe these songs have been lingering in the ether forever.

Whatever its brew, at its core, Danse Macabre is Duran Duran, 40-plus years later, sounding their best.

Save some production switch-ups, 1989 (Taylor’s Version) doesn’t provide too many revelations, but that is the point. Moreover, we will have the Vault Songs on repeat until we are gifted even more new music from Swift.

Another rollicking, rolling set of the 69-year-old Finley’s Louisiana-based soul, blues, and gospel-laced intensity.

It makes for an intense, generally unrelenting forty-minute project; one that pushes The Kills into fresh musical territory, extending and altering the sound they have cultivated for the past twenty years without selling out.

A fine comeback by any measure. Some 60 years on, the Stones are rolling as effortlessly as ever. Welcome back, boys.

The Asylum Years is not only a set suited for the aficionado but also one ideal for the novice. With five CDs and an expansive booklet, it’s not necessarily an inexpensive proposition. However, it could be considered the essence of essential.

The melodies take flight, soaring as guitars strum, and drums pound, and Nash unleashes ten widescreen tales resounding with melancholy intensity and an idiosyncratic style best described as uncompromising.

There’s no grand concept other than Bonamassa returning to the music that initially inspired him, playing it with the maturity and talent that 20 additional years brings. Whether it becomes as popular as the first volume remains to be seen, but the guitarist is best when he’s most comfortable as he is on this impressive set.

The concerts capture The Who at peak power, the often raw blueprints of the songs are a fascinating look behind the curtain of Townshend’s creativity and the exhaustive notes provide the final word on this musically enthralling if somewhat abstract and problematic milestone in rock history.

This mammoth box with 65 tracks (50 never heard before), features a stunning remix of the initial 11 songs from veteran producer Ed Stasium (who was on the shortlist to first helm the project). .... The “leftovers” are not just for hardcore fans either. Some alternate takes are as powerful, perhaps more so than what ended up on the finished release. .... Tim remains revelatory.

Doja Cat is just what the world needs today. A sharp knife to cut through the blizzard of sounds and styles out there. But at the same time a fiery party, something you can witness from the solar system. With the blazing soundtrack to accompany it.

Loveless may have left the twang behind, but returns with one of the most powerful, moving and musically sophisticated offerings in a career that is clearly still growing despite, or perhaps because of, any self-doubts.

It’s a 10-song collection woven together with surprise, gratitude, pain and musical beauty the world has never quite seen before.

None of this is sonically abrasive but it’s all challenging and a little goes a long way. At over 50 minutes, it’s a heavy lift that may confuse some but also intrigue others.

In the end, the LP is something you can put on at a party to get the feet flying and the shirt-tails waving. It’s also perfect for a Saturday drive down the highway, sunshine on your sunglassed face. Or it’s an album to put on with your morning coffee to equally parse and appreciate openly.

Jubilee is everything one might expect from an Old Crow album, that same combination of depth and delight that’s made them a bastion of bluegrass and Americana icons.

While REVAMPED is enticing enough as a filler project, it doesn’t hold up as a major release. Perhaps that wasn’t the point, but apart from a few powerful moments and some buzzy names, the album is a little lackluster.

Few albums in recent memory are as thematically bold and cohesive as The Land is Inhospitable and So Are We. Mitski has a firm world built around her. Her identity as a musician has been long set in motion. Nevertheless, she flies past her own mark in this record, creating something more multifaceted than ever before.

On Valley of Heart’s Delight Cilker proves herself to be one of our finest and most literate songwriters, one whose physical and psychological distance from the pressures of Nashville seems to be at least partially tied to her artistic triumphs.

Some, like musician Dean Evenson, believe that nature itself has a tone, a vibration. It’s low, hushed, almost imperceptible. But Barnett’s new LP seems to bring those sensibilities to the light, to the cultural forefront. Whether Barnett has studied the theory that Evenson espouses or not, the truth is that it’s in her work here. Clear as day.

Desperation and fear meet talent and ingenuity in a fascinating way on How Do You Sleep At Night? making for one of the most thrilling full-length listens of the year thus far.

None of these improve on Russell’s superlative, often raw and profound recordings. Perhaps if fans of these artists are inspired to dig into his albums, that’s a worthwhile outcome for this well-intentioned, yet frustratingly inconsistent collection.

This Is The Kit are content to dwell in more solitary spaces, but given the ethereal arrangements and Rhy’s carefully considered input, Careful Of Your Keepers emerges as an affecting effort, with layer after layer of melody and mystique. Not surprisingly, This Is The Kit ensures all the pieces fit together fine.

This is a powerful, insistent collection of generally unknown artists laying down a murky groove that few contemporary artists get right.

Even on slower material, like the teary closing six-minute ballad “I Think About You Daily” featuring stressed, experimental strings arranged by Radiohead’s Jonny Greenwood, Hynde injects so much riveting emotion that few will be disappointed.

It not only boasts a familiarity factor but the advantage of an official release that ought to make it truly mandatory as far as more rabid Young fans are concerned. Indeed, there are several early stabs at certain songs that only true Neil nerds will be able to differentiate from those versions released later on.

He’s not reinventing any wheels, but Road is an enjoyable, even impressive, release from an aging rock star who still, to trade on the album’s theme, has plenty of gas left in his tank.

Credit Taylor and his colleagues —Alex Bingham (bass, vocals, mellotron), Chris Boerner (guitars, synth), Nick Flak (drums, percussion), and Sam Fributh (keys, vocals)—for executing an effort that can easily be considered another major achievement for this ever-consistent combo.

Given its rallying refrains and carefully considered sentiment, Peace…Like A River easily ranks as Gov’t Mule’s most moving effort yet. This River flows courtesy of soul, sentiment, passion, and purpose.

Like his dad, Nelson has a way of combining emotion, humor, and happenstance in equal proportions. That said, no comparisons are necessary. At this point in his career, this Nelson rests on a reputation all his own.

Supernatural Thing veers in a decidedly different direction. His cast of characters has a lot to do with that, due to the fact that he frequently cedes them the spotlight, but here again, his mood is clearly brighter all around. And that ensures Supernatural Thing doesn’t remain so ominous after all.

This moodier, more prickly attack suits Glaspy’s voice, concepts, and vision. She aligns with other New York City performers who push into shadier, more extreme territory with a similar snarl, mirroring the insecurity, brashness, and honesty the area seems to instill in its finest artists.

Why it took ten years to craft is unclear, but if this qualifies as a comeback, The Hives have returned with a thunderous buzz.

An epic effort in its entirety, The Complete Dirty South now offers an excellent opportunity to revisit this decidedly descriptive album. It continues to loom large in the band’s legacy, encapsulating the Southern culture in ways only true sons of the South were capable of conceiving.

While his 17 new songs don’t amount to a flawless masterpiece, they do paint a picture of a Post Malone who not only knows he needs to turn things around, but also intends to at any cost.

Overall, arriving nearly five years removed from his prior studio album, UTOPIA sees Scott stay true to his style, his preferences, and his principles, going against the grain of the tendencies in the viral-hungry world that is 2023 rap.

So far, Jepsen has us in the palm of her hand. Every song, every beat, every intonation has been sublimely chosen.

A remarkable recording, it can easily be considered an album for the ages.

They’re still unabashedly clicked into late ’60s-early ‘70s bygone rock, and Starcatcher is, indeed, classic Greta Van Fleet.

Other piano-based narratives like the closing “Angel Blues” are delicate, pretty, and charming, but edge dangerously close to schlocky and don’t play to Lofgren’s tougher talents. Thankfully there’s enough solid material here displaying Lofgren’s impressive vocal, instrumental, and songwriting qualities to punch another notch on his belt of good but not great albums.

The percolating pop of “Home Again,” “Caught By Night,” “818,” “One Chance,” and “Libertude” are but a few of the examples of the catchy and quirky nature of Hammond Jr’s individual offerings.

The slower songs—“Stranger Things,” “Goodbye Mary,” “The First Time I Fell In Love,” “More Like a River,” and the aforementioned “When My Race Is Run” in particular—assure an emotional essence remains intact throughout. Taken in tandem, then, this City of Gold shines bright indeed.

They [vault songs] offer something completely new, which is what many people expect from an album release, but they aren’t the most interesting thing about Speak Now (Taylor’s Version), in my opinion. .... That matured, time-honed voice coming out of Swift in her latest re-recording is a mirror image of a fan base who has weathered the storm and come out the other end with her.

These stories resonate with strength and an irrepressible spirit few other artists can summon. Williams’ ability to persevere over issues that would sideline lesser talents and create music this impressive is a testament to the vitality of her rock ’n’ roll heart.

He continues his streak as one of this country’s most prolific and talented players, singers, and songwriters in an inimitable “electric swamp funkin’ blues” genre he pretty much owns.

Ultimately, Orpheus Descending ranks as one of the most commanding and compelling albums of Mellencamp’s entire career.

It’s a feeling of abject determination that makes this album different from many of Folds’ earlier endeavors, and, as a result, a somewhat more earnest offering as well. In that sense, What Matters Most reflects all its name intends to claim.

LaVette is clearly in her element throughout, delivering Bramblett’s words with as much emotion as anyone could squeeze out of them. Producer Jordan supports her with a band of pros that never upstages the star. Call it a win-win for the writer and singer, spotlighting the talents of both, with this thrilling, often electrifying work.

Consider Shadow Kingdom another opportunity to seize on a fabled legacy while reminding the world yet again that certain songs never go out of style.

Clark has an outstanding cast of supporting players helping to underscore her intents, among them, Derek Trucks, Lucius, guitarist Judd Hughes, drummer Matt Chamberlain, bassist Sebastian Steinberg, and of course Carlile herself. Nevertheless, Clark can claim credit for this remarkably revealing record and for having the courage to convey these tattered truths so well.

Those memorable, sweeping, soaring melodies the older Gallagher is known for prevail. Horns adorn some selections but it’s the strings, recorded at Abbey Road, which push these songs from very good to the next level.

Another classy, sublime entry in the group’s expansive resume, one that has remarkably few missteps.

It’s an inspired performance. Stills is in fine form, vocally, on guitar, banjo (a searing “Know You’ve Got to Run,” a precursor to Déjà Vu’s “Everybody I Love You”) and even pounding the piano for a ragged but committed mash-up of “49 Bye Byes” and the Buffalo Springfield’s “For What It’s Worth.”

To say it sounds like another great Sparks set might be damning it with faint praise.

The material is softly lit and effortlessly assured, conveying the calming and caressing sound that all so frequently added its soothing sobriety to CSN and CSNY (Crosby Stills Nash & Young), respectively. That’s not to say there aren’t rallying cries included as well. Both “Golden Idols” and “Stars and Stripes” recall the outraged anthem of old.

Seven Psalms is certainly an intriguing album, but not necessarily one that will reflect the faith of his followers.

The arrangements are both agile and emphatic, by turns jaunty, gyrating, and exuberant.

While it’s not necessarily the kind of record that’s going to grab immediate attention, it does retain an amiable accessibility all its own. In that regard, listeners might just find that The Tallest Man On Earth makes music that’s all within an easy reach.

Ultimately, The New Pornographers specialize in creating a most satisfying sound—the effusive rush of “Bottle Episodes” and “Angelcover,” being two of the more obvious examples—while also making music that begs repeat listens in order to fully grasp the magnitude of their overarched intents.

Jean’s vocals are on the thin side, especially for music that punches and pounds like the majority of these tracks. But she delivers her often dark-edged lyrics with the louche, ice-queen nonchalance of Debbie Harry and Belinda Carlisle which suits this snaking vibe.

As always, Crowell is in prime form, and the ten songs that make up the set list hold to the high standard he’s known for.

The end result is an album that demands a concerted listen in order to fully appreciate all the tones and textures it has to offer. With Spectral Lines, Josh Ritter continues to blur the boundary between melody and mystique.

On The Hypnogogue, the quintet creates fluid moods, moving in idiosyncratic directions while maintaining the shadowy gaze that has defined The Church’s style. Still, a few more songs like the relatively pop-oriented “C’est La Vie” would help elevate and energize the album by varying its consistency.

Often moody, intermittently lovely, if cautionary, set.

The performances smartly stick to rockers since the few ballads (“Guernica” and “No Hard Feelings”), while darkly tuneful, expose the limitations of Hunter’s voice, now a shadow of his “All the Young Dudes” heyday. But give him credit for refusing to tweak it with electronic enhancers and writing some terrific tunes, which he attacks with more vigor than many a quarter of his age.

High Flyin’ offers an interesting insight into one of Young’s many outside ventures and a good representation of a brief chapter in his ever-changing trajectory that hasn’t been shared to any great extent before. On the other hand, it doesn’t represent any dramatic change in his template, as the replay of his aforementioned classics confirms so convincingly.

The sound is of bootleg quality, with audience comments and an occasional cough evident in the mix. Nevertheless, given the set list that’s spread out over the two discs, it does make for a worthy archival addition.

Taken in tandem, All Roads Home makes for an enjoyable outing, one that gives each musician an opportunity to take center stage while demonstrating a small sampling of their individual wares.

A River Running to Your Heart qualifies as a complete triumph and one that serves Fruit Bats’ legacy well. To describe it as simply exceptional doesn’t say it all.

Both haunting and harrowing in equal measure, The Love Still Held Me Near finds the bond that connects those emphatic emotions clearly and convincingly.

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.

Many [of the demos] prove that producer Gus Dudgeon knew how to tweak the material, which had a tendency to get long-winded. ... Eight live selections from London’s Royal Festival Hall, recorded around the album’s release, confirm how tough John’s four-piece was. ... These songs still sound terrific, reminding us just how vital and prolific an artist Elton John was in his prime.

Few songs immediately jump out but when the album is over, you’ll want to hit the repeat button. That’s what any band hopes for and what The Nude Party delivers on the subtly irrepressible Rides On.

It’s the continuation of a fabled legacy and one that has not only stood the test of time but remains vibrant and invigorating all these decades on. Clearly, The Zombies are still in the game and still playing for keeps.

Mostly though, Celebrants comes across as a bold new venture, one that’s unrestrained in terms of melody, motif, and obvious enthusiasm.

All in all, it’s a sumptuous box set and one that’s mined with obvious depth and devotion.

Nothing breaks four minutes with each selection displaying not just catchy, crisp hooks but production (by him) that captures these songs with a sneaky sheen and rather slick polish. He is most convincing though when the music shifts towards a tougher gospel/swamp vibe as on the self-referential “Take a Long Hard Look.”

Ultimately, A Colossal Waste of Light takes Eyelids several steps further in terms of heft and gravitas, sharing the sense that they need not rely on hype or headlines to garner the attention they so decidedly deserve at this juncture.

Consider Shook an example of auditory excess plied with aural intrigue.

The Vivian Line is unlikely to land on anyone’s hip/hot list. Rather Sexsmith, now pushing 60, is content to churn out radiant, sublime, transcendent music that unobtrusively exists in its own delicate bubble, inviting us in to join him on his unique musical path.