Williams continues taking chances, lyrically and stylistically, but with a success rate that would only be acceptable of someone with less songwriting talent.

Whereas "Passover" came wired with explosives, Ghost airs out its thrust with mercenary inevitability.

Intersection is sure to please longtime fans, but it also strikes a more universal chord.

[Radio Music Society] positions Spalding as an artist looking forward and back, a powerful stance.

Stars and Satellites possesses moments when the band seems to be in overdrive, but overall it's much more introspective.

There are too many golden slumbers ("The Night Will Always Win"), and since the snapping and grandiose arrangement of "High Ideals" passes for the pulse quickener on Rocket, tempo could vary more, as it does in the banging build of "Open Arms," another British best in any decade.

Deadheads don't require this or any other tribute, but connecting with at least a couple of the set's five hours comes easily. Its modern cast, too, may well bridge a generational gap to rouse new converts.

It hardly takes more than a deadly Haines verse and Shaw's muscled melodies to Live It Out.

Born Again in the USA is playful, proggy, and built for black lights.

Dr. Dog evolves impressively with each album but still promises more than Fate delivers.

Brothers excels with its ballads, notably the 1960s pop swoon of "The Only One" and "Unknown Brother," while the Philly soul of Jerry Butler's "Never Gonna Give You Up" beckons for white suits and synchronized moves.

While the concept fails to stand up over the album's narrative arc, the songwriting is solid as ever, and Bachmann and [Lara] Meyerratken's combined voices will soothe even the angriest beast.

Past Time is markedly more graceful than Grass Widow's self-titled LP--just wait for those voices to wrap around your brainstem.

Like the softer moments of the AmAnSet, Magnolia tends to lull, allowing the discomfort to ease with every listen.

2007's stellar Woke on a Whaleheart found him miles from Smog's lo-fi folk prophesies, the music revived, almost jubilant. Eagle's halfway there but sounds preoccupied, his stoic baritone never giving too much away.

I Can Wonder toys with genres with resilience and resolve, resulting in something for everyone.

Loathing permeates the band's third album like xenophobia at a Trump rally. Emulating Black Flag gone grindcore, You Will Never Be One of Us beats brief thrashers "Parasite," "Made to Make You Fail," "Violence Is Forever" senseless with merciless precision.

Razorlight shoots from the hip noticeably more immediate than the group's more manicured 2004 debut.

The honeyed twang of the Austin songbird remains a hallmark on Translated, but the songs are forged with a more mature fire and relaxed tone.

Brooklyn's Ava Luna makes disparate funk for these desperate times. The band's second proper full-length packs in more references than a LinkedIn profile.

Rather than refining any creative molds, World Peace stays the course, which could just be creative enough on its own.

Want Two is a serviceable collection of songs that glimmer with Wainwright's former élan, but still wants for that old intimacy.

Though derivative of countless bands, Vivian Girls succeed in paring hazy nostalgia with big noise. It's simple and sounds good.

The Brooklyn trio's fourth album has made it out of the terrible twos, and growing pains have produced a curious pastiche.

Sophomore effort Let the Good Times Roll continues similarly [as 2012 debut, Signs & Signifier] without sinking into more of the same.

The effortless Mockingbird proves she doesn't need to write to make music that's all her own.

Time Being, as with his previous work, is laden with winning melodies and a poet's worldly insight.

Fiona's brand of heartache is a welcome, dark respite from the avalanche of popcrap.