Club 8 may have just made their best record yet (no mean feat in a band with a catalog of great records). It’s true.... this is one of 2015’s best.

Buddy Miller's production is fresh, tuned to the immediacy of Thompson's performances; any fault with Electric can't be laid at his door--only at the strangely stiff quality of the first few songs.

NMA is the epitome of using focused musical imagination to properly exercise thoughtful narrative and controlled passion. Nearly 40 years on, New Model Army still burns as hotly as ever.

Like just about most of their catalogue it’s refreshingly original, incorporating sax, accordion and organ into what would, on its own, still be a great collection of country and rock numbers.

This is an elegant product of hard work and musicianship that shouldn't be dismissed because it is not entirely new material.

A tripped-out masterpiece of transcendental space fuzz that pays tribute to the ruins of Italy that goes beyond the headiest moments of Pink Floyd's legendary performance inside of that coliseum in Pompeii.

Beautiful stuff, strange and arresting.

Lovingly named after Rod Serling's cult post-Twilight Zone program and, in all intents and purposes, is just as thrilling.

While some might complain that the tone is a bit too uniform throughout, the overall impression is one of sweet serenity, adding up to an entirely engaging effort that makes this a supreme standout by any measure.

Simply put, My Foolish Heart is the epitome of an acoustic jazz guitar record.

This is a feel good album about terrible times.

Campbell is at the top of his game even at closing time. If there's no more to come then this is as good a spot as any to ring down the curtain.

It may not carry quite the swagger of Sweet Apple’s first album, but The Golden Age of Glitter still proves to be shiny indeed.

Sweeping and stirring in its emotional depth, Sing the Delta happily finds DeMent testifying to her beliefs with feeling.

Some of his best work, however, comes under the guise of his own name, as is the case with Crow's new album, He Thinks He's People.

Nobody has ever really sounded like Chrome but Chrome, and that makes Feel It Like a Scientist sound as fresh now as it did back in the bad old days.

What you get here, in 2017, is an accurate representation of their setlist at the time, seven lengthy numbers that include a pair of originals from the trio alongside extended, improv-tilting covers of Jimmy Webb, Bacharach & David, Herbie Hancock, and more.

Blistering, incisive and occasionally even surprising, Endless Scroll is anything but dull.

This record isn’t just Worthy--it’s essential.

With One Drop of Truth, The Wood brothers have put out a career-defining album. But they’ve been just as brilliant from the beginning; now it’s time for the rest of the world to finally realize that.

Working with a cast of Chicago jazz, improv and experimental luminaries and newcomers, Walker casts a most enchanting spell on Primrose Green, and while it may reflect his influences more than spell out his vision, the love he bears for those influences comes through in every plucked and sung note.

On the second album by Minneapolis four-piece Howler, an energy level worthy of forebears the Replacements, Soul Asylum and even, in places, Husker Du is dialed up, making such tracks as the thrumming/thrashy “Indictment” and the hardcore-tilting “Drip” buzz around the listener’s head like so many hornets.

The album’s arrangements and standout musicianship--including pedal-steel and slide guitarist Greg Leisz and Henry’s son Levon on clarinet--is a reminder that Henry’s extraordinary production work is second to none.

You won’t be able to resist this delightful album’s charms, either. Don’t even try. Gabba gabba hey.

An album that bears repeated listens, Summer Skin is nothing less than extraordinarily affecting.

It is not one thing (folk) or the other (post-rock, post-classical experiment) or even, really a blend of the two, but rather something fresh and idiosyncratic and worth exploring.

To The Sunset becomes a new plateau in a career that’s grown steadily and assuredly since the start. Indeed, its importance ought to grow over time given its unabashed enthusiasm and its unabashedly seductive set-up.

No other LP is more evocative of the raw essence of the Smashing Pumpkins' unique fusions of feels than this ten track collection, by far and away the most collaborative album in their canon.... This deluxe edition of Gish is chock-a-block with quality bonus material.

Here’s an album from guys who have been making trouble for more than 20 years, and if they haven’t gotten better behaved with time, at least they’ve gotten better at it.

Don’t Tell the Driver is far too gorgeously personal, too hushed, too subtle, too free-rangingly ruminative to ever play out on a public stage. Instead its chaotic swirls, its muted flares of brass, its clackety storms and ebbs of drumming seem destined to play out in private theaters.

Despite all odds, Into the Wide is Delta Spirit’s most driven effort yet, a rousing, riveting attempt to create an indelible impression.

Breakup Song is an electric, ultra-fun, frenetic carnival; but, it is most satisfying in its quieter, more spacious moments.

Small Town is a master class in chemistry, creativity and the joy of making music for no other sake.

Some of the songs here are better than others (even with more than four decades of hanging out with everyone from Willie Nelson to Keith Richards, there is only so much cred you can breathe into a Paul Anka song), but there is hardly any track here that hasn’t earned the right to stay.

Hurricane is her first new album since 1989, and it's her best ever.

The Fact Facer is a nuanced, multi-leveled listen that stands with the best things Amos--and anyone covering similarly adventurous terrain--has done.

There is nary a pair of finer testaments to the purity of the original SP sound than the group's first two albums, both of which have been beautifully remastered and generously expanded [here].

Without sounding anything like Pet Sounds, Seeds We Sow indicates Buckingham has absorbed Wilson's lessons well.

This album is a wellspring of the bandmates' combined creativity and an ode to free-spirited artistic expression. Bravo.

This is the merde, and essential for anyone interested in the history of alternative dance and 80s electronic and industrial musics.

After 14 years they show no signs of slowing down and you know what you don't want them too because they haven't even come close to sucking. It's a win win for all of us.

Lullaby and... The Ceaseless Roar is the all-encapsulating masterpiece we all knew Robert Plant the solo artist had in him the entire time.

Though he avoids dissonance for its own sake, Bleckmann amazingly never descends into treacle, nor does he indulge in the usual nonsense syllables of typical scat singing. Instead he forges his own distinctive path on Elegy, taking the concept of the human voice as instrument to new and shimmering places.

While the kick of recognition of the distinctive styles and contributions of each member is part of the pleasure, the album sounds like the product of a group, of a powerful force of equals. And it's all the better for it.

Carlile has that unique ability to convey sentiments that can be both celebratory and circumspect, and on tracks like “Wherever Is You Heart,” “The Things I Regret” and “Blood Muscle Skin & Bone,” her declarations of devotion are sung with both assertion and affirmation.

This is the ordinary world made radiant, surreal and strange, its everyday objects glowing with internal light.

Father, Son, Holy Ghost contains some of the deftest songwriting of 2011, and is more than a worthy successor to the group's debut.

This is not a return to form, or a wild new approach, just another Steve Forbert album, which means a very good thing to have in the world.

These songs are like pearls, lustrous, unknowable and happiest next to bare skin.

Manipulator represents a defining statement from a musician that should enjoy a long, healthy career to come.

The only real misstep is the too-funky-for-its-own-good “Snow Your Mind”; otherwise Fulvimar has created another record that will appeal to a wide range of music fans as the indie rockers will give it a thumbs up as will the stoners, psych-mongers and electronic freaks, too.

Quite simply, Songs to Play is an excellent Robert Forster record.

Taken as a whole, Kykeon seems more cohesive, less add-x-to-y, than the self-titled debut.

An album full of fresh twists and turns, musically and lyrically, and a song cycle full of melody and surprise.

This is a just a great sounding record. In truth; just great, period.

The Rip Tide is moderate in ambition, and hardly a masterwork, if such things empirically exist.

An entertaining album that follows no musical rules, a record interconnected by one common denominator--that there happily isn't one.

Every cut shines with Ndgeocello's brilliantly creative spirit.

With IX, Trail of Dead consolidates its stance as one of the ‘aughties’ most consistently interesting prog bands.

While this is Hurray For The Riff Raff’s strongest record to date, it’s doubtful this is a peak. Keep Segarra on your radar.

A Big Bad Beautiful Noise rocks hard, lives smart and re-establishes the Godfathers as a vital force in rock & roll.

Taken in one extended listening session, Hold/Still proves titularly prophetic because you’re left exhausted from all the foregoing textural and tempo twists. One could liken the experience to ingesting a handful of lysergic tablets and then deciding to run a marathon that lasts all night. Once you’re done, you’re done for good. Hold still, kids.

A wonderful album, in which everyone comes together without losing what is special about each.

Not one single note on this record fails to contribute something to the overall mood.

As always, Mulcahy’s pastoral pop stirs up a delightful brew, both easily accessible and undeniably irrepressible all at the same time.

With Grief’s Infernal Flower, Windhand goes from strength to even more strength, taking doom to the next level by refining tradition, rather than radically altering it.

Japandroids sophomore effort is loaded end to end with great songwriting and the joy they've found in their influences.

It's only a matter of time before the rest of the world catches up and realizes she's one of our country's best songwriters.

Modern Streets brings the eerie emotional heft of psychedelic soul into the age of the personal electronic device, working on a small scale towards mind-expanding ends. Nicely done.

Happily, The Ghost of the Mountain succeeds in every respect, an album that sounds like the product of a group rather than simply a collaboration between like-minded associates.

With its relaxing, wordless waves of pastoral hums and harmonies, LUX rightfully earns its place amongst such classic works by one of the great masters of sonic exploration.

This is a collection of songs that sparkles in its own excellence.

Bettie Serveert have always trafficked beautifully in lovely melancholy, and this melodic, varied and rocking collection joins a long list of fine records from the Dutch band.

It looks like Bruce Springsteen finally has some help defending Jersey's street cred.

Nature Noir feels like it’s got a bit more substance and structure, a natural foundation under the otherworldly sheen.

Somewhere between the somber and the swagger are the expansive and loosely-narrative “King of Cleveland” and “Famous Friends Along the Coast,” which both play like cinematic vignettes. Rich with imagery, resonance and hooks, they feel less esoteric than the rest of the album. But these songs are relatable and immediate, and lend a groundedness to the 12-track collection.

It’s a combination of old and new, letting Liddiard play to his strengths as a writer while letting a new band paint his compositions in different colors. That blend of comfort and risk makes A Laughing Death in Meatspace one of the best rock records of 2018.

These slow-rolling, Southern-bred sentiments serve him well, and indeed Gone Away Backward appears to be a fine step forward.

Rarely do mistakes of one’s youth sound so beautiful.

Once again breathing new life into an old form, The Sugarman Three are back to show us all How It's Supposed To Be Done.

Perhaps because there’s no bass (Primo! has added Amy Hill on bass since Amici), Primo!’s sound lacks a certain grind and tumult--it’s more Grass Widow than Good Throb--but it’s sharp and fresh and a lot of fun.

Bennett harbors a magic about him that inspires you to become caught up in the beauty of his performance prowess regardless of what artist is playing second banana to him on the microphone.

However carefully crafted the words or melodies may be, there’s an air of anything-can-happen to Frog Eyes songs. They are certainly always haring off in unexpected directions.

The group's strongest, most challenging and most cohesive offering in years.

From the heads down deliberation of Alligator, Mississippi to the teasing double entendre of Sweet Tooth, White’s music captures a particular time and place when pop and pretense weren’t necessarily intertwined.

It's a happy, bright trance, not necessarily to be avoided. C'mon. Dive in.

If you like drawling guitars and the springy thud of basslines, if you prefer sunny melodies dredged in fog and dissonance, Cool Ghouls is as good a bet as any.

Ultimately, this is a record full of brilliant Richard Thompson songs given strong readings.

Hellfire is a brilliant album with no weak cuts.

The the three original albums -- I Just Can't Stop It, Wha'ppen? and Special Beat Service, from '80, '81 and '82 respectively, still hold together well....The Complete Beat offers completists an ideal opportunity to ditch that well-worn vinyl and get in the groove with a compendium that puts all the music in one place.

Anthemic stuff abounds here but they really hit a powerful stride in the middle with the fast-paced “Lizard Kids,” the funky bottom of “Lunar Phobia” and the girl-group sweetness of “Wrack Attack.”

K7 is doing its best to keep the tradition alive, and Foals' contribution is a curatorial coupe des grace.

The more I listen to Jonquil, the more I l-u-v these guys.

Everything is pushed harder, faster and into more extreme corners on Unsound, and, remarkably, the band seems to get tighter and more impactful as things become more difficult.

Fortunately, most of the singers feel a kinship to Drake that comes through. They communicate that this is a cause worthy of their most thoughtful interpretive skills.

No matter what confection the band prepares, the melody is the cake and the trippiness the frosting, making Join the Dots one of the most non-head accessible psych rock records since Tame Impala’s breakthrough.

It’s an impressive show of strength and act of endurance not just in its multi-part structure but also in Gelb’s long term commitment to his craft and his determination to make something endearing out of the downcast canvas that he’s made his own.

Ivan & Alyosha offer an emphatic combination of allure and affirmation that all but assures instant appreciation.