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.

All in all, Monogamy is a bit underwhelming, but there is understated humor in Kasher's musings, and he has a flair for infectious melodies without hooks. He snaps the puzzle pieces together, whether it's a fit or not.

Ellis’ first full length release taps into a discreet sense of introspection rare for any recording artist, let alone a relatively new one. It’s headphone music for lonesome, solitary Sunday mornings when the self-reflection temperature is high and the vibe is low boil.

This is clearly a labor of love for Boyd and a wonderful introduction to a tragically flawed but exceptionally talented singer/songwriter.

These strummy rockers, highlighted by the group’s established three-part harmonies, are some of the most incisive and powerful in their catalog. Those who acquire music one track at a time need to rethink their position here since these songs weave together to form a tapestry that works as a beautifully constructed unified whole.

Ultimately, it’s the cheery calypso flavor and uplifting sentiments of “Better Days” that offer a hint of hope. With that in mind, this particular Settlement ought to be one that long-time fans find easy to accept.

Happily, even a cursory listen affirms the fact that his snarl and swagger are still intact.

[A] remarkable exploration of and ode to American music.

Collingwood's nasal vocals–part charming limitation, part annoying affectation–can wear thin, even when sweetened by pristine guitar arrangements and perfect backing harmonies.

When Critical Equation isn’t trying too hard to solve those mysteries lyrically or complicate matters musically, it’s prime Dr. Dog. And that’s more than enough.

Dropping a few songs would have made this stronger overall, but there is no escaping the spooky, druggy vibe created over the course of an hour’s worth of pretty yet eerie and ultimately edgy music.

Ukulele Songs is lovely as it breezes by, but it doesn't promise a very long shelf-life.

Produced by Amos, this lushly orchestrated set is at times equally compelling and dynamic, plus effectively demonstrates Amos' acumen as a musician, vocalist, and tunesmith (a scarce commodity these days).

In the end, Charleston, SC 1966 doesn't break any rules or new ground, and probably wasn't meant to.

Versatile may ultimately be a minor addition to the Irish icon’s swollen catalog, yet it’s another example of Van Morrison’s inimitable flair as an interpreter and arranger. It’s hard to imagine spending over an hour with these 16 tunes and not coming away with an appreciative grin and an acknowledgement of the singer’s timeless talents.

Other than the oddball horn infused Mexican polka “Tienes Cabeza de Palo” that sounds like Tom Jones taking an excursion south of the border, Call Me Insane plays to established strengths.

Strange, inexplicable and uncomfortable are descriptions the Femmes’ are likely proud of. Their ageing indie audience expects nothing less and should be more than happy to check into this hotel of last resort.

In the moving disc closer "Mimi Song," she asks her listener to "tell them about me when I'm gone" and to "remember me." With an alluring album such as this one, that request shouldn't be hard to do.

With the exception of the occasional detour into heartbreak ("I Don't Do Lonely Well") or empathy ("Black Tears"), it can feel like he's doing the same stylized smalltown-conjuring over and over, to the point of hollowness.

On Dark Arc, the craftsmanship and lyricism reveal a uniquely singular band informed by Appalachian mountain music and the explosive recklessness of punk.

There’s plenty going on and most is worth hearing even if Milia’s artiness occasionally gets in his way.

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.

It’s an excellent live document, and though it’s devoid of otherwise familiar material, it brings attention to an unlikely artifact that deserves renewed attention. Consider this a most remarkable return.

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.

Even though Deer Tick's punky, yowling take on hillbilly country-rock is a close relative to Diamond Rugs' own sound, it's more of a first cousin than an identical twin, and the few songs that deviate from the Deer Tick template are some of the album's most enjoyable.

Neil Young and Crazy Horse, when they're at the top of their game like they are here, can make music of any origin rock.

She's spellbinding when she's on--aided by her penetrating and often-literary lyrics. But when her singing meanders too long without focus, you forget she's there--her energy dissipates and she blurs into background, leaving her dependent songs with nothing to do but await her return.

For a band that many hoped might come roaring back from Where Are They Now? purgatory with engines in overdrive, this is bound to be a letdown.