Eighteen tracks, usually a sign of a group that could use a little outside help cutting some of the fat, proves that the band was just hitting it’s stride. Eighteen songs and No Holiday still leaves you craving more.

Man, is this ever drenched in heart and soul. The first time I heard it, several months ago, I muttered to myself, “Think this gonna be in my top 10 of 2019.” ‘deed it is, folks.

Though not as great as their last few albums of all original songs, Play The Hits is still a fun holdover until the band comes back with another record.

While Neko Case’s moonlighting from her solo day job allows her to enliven the proceedings, it’s obvious that the ensemble, as a whole, contributes to the richness and resonance that the new album exudes in its entirety.

Where The Action Is may not be the absolute rave-up the album title implies, but it is a remarkably incisive effort that ought to remind one and all what a singularly important ensemble the Waterboys were… and still remain.

The music is superb, but it’s Mead’s subtle, witty lyrics that really take center stage on this record (like all his previous solo offerings).

There are some songs that sound like they were last minute add-ons (“Alchemy” is so plodding you can almost watch time stand still), but taken as a whole, Fool still finds Jackson playing some of the best pop music out there, immune to fads and current trends.

Far from sounding like lesser cast-offs, the songs here are just as worthy as anything off those earlier albums.

Sometimes older and wiser just makes you harder and meaner. I Used to Be Pretty is the grungy, gangly, glorious result of hard-won maturity.

In the best cuts, the dance elements win out over doom-y post-apocalyptics. “AS A.W.O.L.” layers metallic-ringing keyboard notes (like a music box made of tin) over a sinuous, vaguely ominous beat.

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.

The band’s Miami mix of Folk, Rockabilly, Jazz and Blues-based Holiday music is simply divine.

Probably not the best soundtrack for you Christmas Eve Open House, but destined to be a Holiday classic for Crowell diehards.

There are a couple of stumbles here, like on the somber “Easy Love,” but for the most part, Late Riser is crammed with stunning songs strong enough to make you forget what else is going on in the world--at least for 30 minutes or so.

Not all the songs on Hardly Electronic are as affecting--and some of them are just good bubbly pop fun. There are some misses--the country-ish “Bye Bye Crow” isn’t very good--but most are at least solid and surprisingly fresh, and a few are much better than that.

Stokes lacks Barnett’s songwriting diversity, worldliness and clever wordplay; too many of the songs on Future Me Hates Me are interchangeable, built on quiet, jangly verses and fuzz-button sing-along choruses that lament the usual litany of “I” and “me” woes.

This latest album is still a fair amount bubblier than early works, with the electronic part more prominent than on Mother’s Daughter or Good Arrows, yet it has the same recognizable magic as Tunng’s best work, in hectically complicated arrangements that melt into simplicity and sleek modern surfaces atop centuries-old modalities.

Returns to Valley of Rain, then, is a start-to-finish delight. It’s technically a re-do of the original UK cassette version of Valley of Rain, which had 11 tunes compared to the 10-song US LP.

With Animals reminds me of Lanegan’s work with Isobel Campbell, more acoustic, less bombastic, less ready to take you by the throat than his solo albums, but nonetheless quietly revelatory. It’s hard to tell, really, where he leaves off and Garwood steps in, but that’s because they’re so well matched and equally focused on a singular, spooky vibe.

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.

While there are some great intimate moments (especially the beautiful “Wayward”), ultimately that lack of a more consistent balance between upbeat and slow tempo drags the album down a bit.

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.

It’s obvious that a trip up to Memphis was just what the doctor ordered, as it most certainly has injected a new, creative energy into the band. Of course, the chemistry imbued by the helping hands and producer were significant to the end product.

The one thing missing from Dude, The Obscure, are a few more raucous, upbeat tracks, but that can easily be rectified with a new Diamond Rugs record.

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

The band is tight, and the music ebbs and flows as usual; it just doesn’t go anywhere original. I hope the band will be able to right the shjip on their next effort.

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.

An album flush with both vicissitudes and vitality, What a Time to be Alive resonates with its resolve.

Shook’s unerring insurgence and commitment to the cause are admirable traits, proof that edge and attitude never go out of style.

Segall has been slowly but surely expanding out in various directions, exploring the possibilities of sounds and approaches to his songs and songwriting craft. Freedom’s Goblin makes the dividends of his exploration that have paid off all too evident.

Donovan seems content to continue cranking out his own brand of lo-fi foggy fuzz. Boogie and chillin’, indeed!

Wide Awake will have to respectfully play 3rd place behind Sunbathing Animal and Light Up Gold, as those are the ones to beat.

Eric’s new album Construction Time & Demolition is all the title implies, an erratic set of songs that’s decidedly left of center but boasting the ebullience and energy that’s so critical to his motif.

There’s a sense of importance and profundity that emanates from practically every groove. Stirring, striking and flush with tunefulness and tenacity, I’ll Be Your Girl is more than a promising proposition.

They’ve been in the long-form, drone-and-drift mode for a while now. It’s nice to hear them rock out a little, too.

There’s no need then to furrow well below the surface; with Waffles Triangles & Jesus, White’s reconciled mischief with melody with exceptional results.

The Prodigal Son lives up to its title, a return to his earliest archival sounds.

The Lookout doesn’t make any waves or upset any expectations. If you want to be surprised, look elsewhere, but if you like beautifully turned melodies, set in soft, enveloping arrangements that keep every instrument clear, this is another good one.

Bellowing Sun is one of Fennelly’s best and most brightly colored albums yet.

They exit the proverbial time warp tunnel with a sophisticated release that beckons recollections of classic rock groups while forging their own sound. Influences from Buddy Holly to Beach Boys to even The Beatles are felt on Uncle, Duke & the Chief and Born Ruffians rightfully stand in good company.

Fantastic Plastic might just be their finest effort. This is the music that stirs your loins and flies in your face like the sweet bird of youth come home to roost. Fingers crossed that this isn’t their Final Vinyl.

Mudhoney’s new live set, L.i.E. (Sub Pop), collected from a 2016 tour, is bluntly, ferociously coherent, though it spans three decades, seven albums and one Roxy Music cover.

These beautiful, beguiling melodies make for an album that’s so rich and regal in both style and shimmer, it’s simply stunning to say the least. Prepare to be enticed.

A raw and solid debut, Basic Behaviour translates anguish into an intense yet catchy album.

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.

Though there are still plenty of the Fleet Foxes-meets-Beach Boys elements to much of this new record, it also finds the band branching out with new sounds.

A defining blend of assurance and intrigue makes Calexico’s music come across as both so sumptuous and so surreal.

Wright relies mostly on covers — she’s only credited with co-writing the final track “All the Way Here”--but her choice of classic material--Dylan’s “Every Grain of Sand,” Allen Toussaint’s Southern Nights,” the timeless standard “Stars Fell on Alabama, as well as newer, but equally impressive choices by k.d. lang, Rose Cousins and Ray Charles--testify to her ability to make the material her own.

Those unawares of Deer Tick’s five preceding efforts ought to make every effort to catch up. Likewise, those who appreciate the band’s quality and consistency will find Vol. 1 and Vol. 2 to be a perfect pairing, as compatible as their titles imply.

Those unawares of Deer Tick’s five preceding efforts ought to make every effort to catch up. Likewise, those who appreciate the band’s quality and consistency will find Vol. 1 and Vol. 2 to be a perfect pairing, as compatible as their titles imply.

The results come off like the soundtrack to an imaginary video game, one where environmental exploration is more important than staying on task.

The disc’s first half is most engrossing, especially the slinky, smouldery swagger of “Lady and Man,” which whips up funk intensity with explosive starts and stops. ... Late album tracks drift and drone, pillow-padded with angelic “oohs” and paced for motionless contemplation.

This Is Glue is several orders of magnitude better than the already quite enjoyable Metalmania. Without changing the formula much, Sampson has somehow increased the impact of his ramshackle, ear-wormy songs and made them matter more.

The result is an album of uncommon strength, not necessarily due to the individuals involved, but rather because of the sheer force and fury of the unified thrust. Filthy Friends never waver from this mission, making this one Invitation well worth heeding.

Four albums in and Turnpike Troubadours show no signs of writer’s block.

This certainly seems like his most accessible effort yet, a sign perhaps that after years of being regarded as an odd man out, he’s ready to find that balance between talent and tenacity. Well done, old boy. Well done.

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

The point of Alright is not to churn out hit singles but to create an experience for its listeners, to create a concept album. Lindstrøm has successfully done so!

What a remarkable record--weird, yet compelling, in equal parts dissonance and luminosity; a seductive tease that nevertheless exudes the kind of warm familiarity that marks the best indie rock.

The easiest way to say it is that there’s no barrier between despair and euphoria in these songs--which contain both, equally, simultaneously and without contradiction.

There are a few more hooks on this latest release and the production is clearer, but it certainly doesn’t water down the sentiment.

It’s a gorgeous, unreal place that Mount Kimbie evokes on Love What Survives, but dissonance leaks in through the crevices.

Woodland Echoes, his latest solo album, is cohesive and strong and despite being a little more mellow than some of his earlier offerings, would fits nicely alongside his work from the ‘80s and ‘90s.

The words are as smart as they come, full of sudden puzzle-twists and casual apercus, the showy part of this musical enterprise. Yet the music is just as polished and fine, even if it takes a supporting role.

It’s a little regrettable then that his last officially studio album, coming out less than a year after he died, is so overproduced and kitschy.

It’s all quite pleasant, nicely played and sung and recorded, but perhaps a little distant. These tunes flow by like sunny afternoons and when they’re done you can’t remember much.

Seventeen tracks makes for an extended listening experience, but there’s enough variety that you’re never bored. In fact, the second half seems to hit a little harder than the first.

There are plenty more excellent guitar janglers like The Pooh Sticks doing my favorite tune “On Tape” plus Pale Saints doing the dreamier “Colours and Shapes” and Choo Choo Train (Ric and Paul from Velvet Crush) doing the righteous “High,” all of which is one disc one. Moving right over to disc two The House of Love start things off with “The Hill.”

Here in his first solo full-length, he sands down the edges of the jazz-man’s axe, denaturing the sound until it evokes rather than presents itself. Almost all these songs have the drifting, half-heard, hard-to-pin-down sense-memory quality of music drifting in from other rooms, long ago.

Instead of dramatic tempo shifts or sing-along choruses, the songs rely on subtle texture and tempo changes that, in context, wind up carrying far more weight than they would in another setting.

Life Is Fine boasts some of Kelly’s best lyrics in years.

Iyer really makes an effort here to highlight all sides of his musical skills, letting two decades of experience boil into an exceptionally tasty dish. Iyer has already proven himself a jazz master, but with Far From Over, he takes his talent as composer, player and bandleader to new heights.

Don’t look for fireworks here, but rather smaller, quieter revelations that take time to unveil themselves.

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

This former power pop band currently eschews the pop in favor of the power. Melody is less of an essential, but the sheer verbosity suggests that they’re opting for a stadium-sized sound.

L.A. Takedown often errs on the side of too much perfection, but here, a little messed up, it soars.

With Positively Bob, Nile manages to make one of the few cover albums worth owning.

Though only seven songs long, at least two--“Mallow T’Ward the River” and “One Can Only Love”--offer multiple movements that provide opportunity to explore more exotic environs.

Superbly performed, the show is recorded with perfect clarity by NPR’s engineers, and packaged with an extensive booklet of essays and photos. Truth, Liberty & Soul is no barrel-scraping collection of effluvia, but a vital addition to the slim catalog of a genius.

Kids in The Streets is just as charming and powerful as its predecessors.

It all sounds like the best kind of disco, but warmer and funkier and rougher around the edges.

Though solid throughout, without hooks like the best ones on Goes Missing, Untouchable suggests the more random approach suits Kelly and his fans better.

It’s a good sign that Jones is open to anything on Super Natural, and that he can easily enhance his usual firebreathing rock & roll passion without diluting it.

On Big Bad Luv, his fourth solo effort, Moreland continues his knack for writing impeccably perfect lyrics (“They got silver spoons for American gods/I wanna be stoned, thrown American rods”) on some of the best heartbreak songs since John Prine.

These are songs that brush up against you softly, swirl up around you like a sweet smelling breeze and leave you wistful for things you can’t quite put into words.

Love Is Love isn’t clear cut, reading at times like the various stages of grief.

No matter how synthetic and mechanical things get, the stain of cosmic psychedelia never completely fades.

The production, composing, arrangements, and playing makes A Kind Revolution something uniquely special in the Paul Weller catalogue. Weller is a talent like no other, and you will not be disappointed.

Though still unquestionably a powerhouse, Royal Thunder proves itself too versatile on WICK to be slipped into an easily labeled box.

From start to finish, God’s Problem Child is a quintessential Willie Nelson record and there are few things in the world better than that.

The World’s Best American Band is all about cutting loose and having a blast via the method of catchy guitar-based rock & roll tunes--simple, direct and oh so very effective.

Americana is damn near as excellent an album as Davies has delivered since the ‘70s, a set of songs that will someday be seen as among his best.

You have to go back to 1993’s Songs of Faith and Devotion to find a more consistently flawless record from the band. Lyrically the trio is in top form.

This is a rare album that is upbeat while also showing an emotional side that we all have felt from time to time.

Hoop’s experimental tack often requires repeated listens, but it’s creativity and not mere quirkiness that ultimately leaves alingering afterglow.

Silver Eye is moving forward in that Goldfrapp did not resolve to focus solely on one style, they effortlessly melded several influences, leaving us with a fine album to introduce 2017.

In the end, Pure Comedy isn’t anything close to the laugh fest the title implies, but it does provoke a deeper reaction regardless.

Songs like “Preludes,” “Tracking Shots,” “Tangletown” and “Rescue Blues” find his pliable vocals emitting that certain verve and swagger.