This is breathtaking, life-affirming music with the power to heal and restore. It's that beautiful.

More structured and electric than Either/Or, but without the overproduction of Figure 8, Basement is the next logical step.

'Bodysnatchers' exhibits the electioneering energy of The Bends with a monstrous riff that explodes into a spiral galaxy of guitar, but the remainder of the album flows like an extended Soma holiday.

Fans may have to have The Woods surgically removed from their players. It's just that powerful, demanding to be heard.

Built mainly of solitary guitar/keyboard figures and elementary rhythm parts, the songs are too direct for this to be Daniel's Kid A, but he's obviously enjoying tweaking people's expectations.

The Alabama Shakes mainspring's first solo release showcases R&B borne of a dark, introspective place, grooving like a 35-minute scream into a pillow.

The dolorous gloom of Foundations of Burden should be oppressive, but Pallbearer turns pain into beauty.

Even the tape warp of the demos sounds like it was done on purpose. The packaging gets updated, too, with liner notes pondering how so many current bands have added BT's sound "to their own DNA." A rare gem that still holds up.

Ambitious and uneven.

Fishscale's tail-end reeks ("Jellyfish," "Big Girl," "Momma"), but then first cuts are always the deepest.

Fortifying her monstrous singles "Galang" and "Sunshowers" with further molten munitions, Arular is primed for worldwide insurrection.

You're Dead begs complete listens as a whole, with tracks just long enough to capture particular thoughts before you're pushed onward.

Eschewing categories entirely, let's just call this trippy l'il slice of vinyl a masterwork, combining elements of salsa, house, reggae, hip-hop, and ska into one remarkably cohesive whole.

Shepherd in a Sheepskin Vest's entirely acoustic arrangement harks to a catalog defined by stillness and moments of quiet revelation.

For Emma is a paradigm of uninhibited closure, a gentle touch on a sad day.

A number of contemporary indie bands attempts to strip-mine mountain ballads in the service of indie pop, but none has melded the impulses as effortlessly and captivatingly as Fleet Foxes manage on "Blue Ridge Mountains" and "Oliver James." Sublime.

Hints of Michael Jackson's melodic moonwalking lace in the type of hip-hop ennui that will appeal to fans of Solange's A Seat at the Table, plus a sexy swagger of feminist liberation that screams 2018.

A continuation of the warm folk, fiddle, and banjo style of 2013's Gone Away Backward, here Fulks continues proving he's one of music's best song craftsmen.

Something More Than Free offers further proof of Jason Isbell's preeminent acuity.

Overwhelmingly subtle and crushingly consuming, m b v delivers beauty in the slightest shifts and drama in its calculatedly awkward movements.

It's Ray Wylie Hubbard at his best, candid, shrugging, unapologetic, and dispensing rock & roll philosophy in words that matter.

The Argument is the first outing for the Dischord flagship band since '98's End Hits, and offers substantial improvement over that LP's uneven sonic experimentation.

A deeply personal album that will resonate with anyone who's ever found their life's path leading them down a dead end.

With Showtime, the very idea of diagramming a single line is enough to cause black wormholes to open in the listener's mind – quantum physics by way of South London slang.

Jangling Jack's back.

All the studio LPs are augmented with bonus material, while three discs compiled exclusively for this box are where the treasure resides.

Rosanne Cash caps a trilogy of reflection with poise and insight, a complex cultural legacy moved distinctly forward.

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