This is a feel good album about terrible times.

The production has gotten bigger, slicker and more surgically clean, but the tunes haven’t.

Another Splash of Colour: New Psychedelia in Britain 1980-1995, has plenty of meat on the bone for the uninitiated as well as the seasoned psychedelic music listener.

All in all, it’s Rodriguez’s way with both a samba and a sway that helps elevate this effort while making it one of her best yet.

Unfortunately, there’s little of anything redeeming about the music on this album.

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.

While the melodies are occasionally amorphous, the poetry and passion are clearly conveyed.

Let’s be honest: the [Brian Jonestown Massacre] hasn’t hewed to its classic sound in some years, so why not let Psychic Ills take on the drug pop mantle instead? As this album proves, they [wear] it well.

The songs, then, range from spare, acoustic folk blues to full-fleshed extravaganzas, yet even the most dizzying tracks have an introspective cast.

Willie Nile, at 67, can still paint a picture with words and burn the house down from the stage. Savor it.

Quieter and striking a more somber tone than their Grammy-nominated first record, it sounds as if the band went out of its way to tone down the catchiness of their initial offering. But the softer focus put the lyrics front and center and that’s, in part, what separates The Lumineers from the slew of bands that came after trying to replicate the success of “Ho Hey”.

Because it’s a soundtrack, where the music works in support of narrative and imagery, Atomic remains subdued.

While this faithful tribute doesn’t lessen the sadness, it does remind us that genius is timeless and that the memories of those triumphs will linger long enough to inspire us forever. The fact that these performances serve to remind us of that fact is reason enough to rejoice.

He may not be looking to “kill Saturday night” anymore but, with Upland Stories, Fulks has composed songs that are richer and more rewarding.

“Harmonic Hall” is a pseudo serious semi-Arabic sounding pointless exercise in sequencing and doesn’t aid the soporific nature of the record one iota. The rest of the record is nothing more than pieced together bits of overwrought musicality that were always present since the 90’s but never given center stage until now.

Though not for every taste, Felder has enough going on to be more than just aural wallpaper.

Over accessible grooves derived from the same source used by groups like Tinariwen and Terakaft, Brahim sings with an easy tone that coils her passion into a tight spring, rather than shoot it out of a cannon.

The Gloaming is different because it gets at the lovely essence of the Irish tradition without sentimentality or dumbing down--and also isn’t afraid to make it modern.

As with so much African music, Né So favors hope over despair, proud defiance over inchoate anger, and stands as the most trenchant portrait of the African musical spirit so far this year.

Stuart cut a slew of tracks at their studio, handed the results to J.D. Foster for mixing duties, and wound up with one helluva platter that’s even better than The Deliverance of… and, as fans will realize upon the first spin, slots perfectly into his Green On Red oeuvre.

Not as prolific as some of his peers, it’s easy to forget what a great musician Wolf is. Thankfully, this new one serves as a fresh reminder.

Dire and descriptive, You Can’t Go Back If There’s Nothing To Go Back To numbing melancholia is uncommonly compelling.

The result is a fantastic record, powerful in its calmness.

A terrific beginning, Little Windows offers its audience a perfect view.

If your idea of African music is Paul Simon playing out his colonial lord fantasies amid a bunch of syrupy melody and chipper rhythms, well… this note’s for you. And there are some surprises awaiting.

Spend enough time with Lost Time and you’ll find yourself singing snatches of lyrics about the west coast tsunami (“I Love Seattle”) or misogynist trolls (“The Internet”) in the shower. And, weirdly, it’ll be fun.

Forever Sounds (Shake It/Damnably) is a kaleidoscopic, sonic soundscape, engagingly recorded at John Curley’s (Afghan Whigs) facility, Ultrasuede Studios.

It’s the weird stuff that’s stirring on this non-native take on American folk and country, the eerie distortions that you get from being outside looking in.

Side Pony is a solid starting point for anyone who has yet to discover the band.

Thanks to this well-constructed compilation CD (including a very informative booklet), his legacy will be exposed to a new generation of musicians, and music fans.

They still sound as brilliantly odd as their seminal self-titled debut.

One of the strongest debut albums in recent memory.

I Abused Animal is a real shocker and definitely an album you won’t easily forget.

This is a very enjoyable round-up of shoegaze, shoegaze influenced and vaguely-similar-to-shoegaze bands, including some material you’ll know well and some that will likely be less familiar.

Night Fiction is beautifully played, full of the clean, lovely sounds that can be made on traditional rock instruments, but it’s not very memorable.

It’s hardly an easy listen, but it’s a compelling one just the same. And if it’s not exactly a conclusive journey, it’s still one worth traveling all the same.

Repetition and simplicity balance the sadly beautiful sounds on Wabi-Sabi; an eccentric album that will find its home with those who seek something creatively different in their music on a mellow, rainy day.

Going Down In History is pretty much what you’d expect from the genre veterans; catchy three-chord country with some distorted guitars and plenty of punk rock attitude and smart ass lyrics.

Above the Prairie unfolds as a series of shimmering, seductive soundscapes that effectively convey the other-worldly imagery asserted in its title. Within this beguiling set of songs, a dream-like scenario with a nocturnal gaze unfolds.

This is a very good album, sure, but it adds not so much to the Rangda catalogue.

With Adore Life, Savages have built on the visceral, gut-shock impact of their first album with stronger songs and more varied writing. It’s an impressive step up for an already promising band.

Some tracks prize vibe over structure to their detriment.

[A] sensational self-titled release. Mixing the album’s overall tone with soul, rock, electronic, and hip hop, the album has a vibe that is something close to Mike Patton’s baby Peeping Tom.

A journey as personal as Lowe’s can only translate into universal messages that people receive in their own way, regardless of which way their winds blow.

The band draws from the members’ mutual admiration and concerted input, but while it’s an admirable first attempt, it never quite gels into anything of enduring interest.

Like many a good party, you wish it would have last longer (the other minor qualm is that there isn’t a mention of when the specific songs were recorded).

This band stirs a noisy pot of rock sounds, but vapors that escape smell delicious.

The bold artistic statement that is this record will have people talking about it for years to come.

The shift in sound is subtle at best, and only the most astute listener will sense any real progression. At times it’s lovely to listen to, but all in all it best serves as somnolent sounds for insomniacs.

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.

Under Branch & Thorn & Tree is a hypnotic sojourn to be sure, one that rewards repeated listens with a sense of lofty liberation.

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.

Ork Records: New York, New York opens a window to the past that you can’t go through or even really see through, but it is just wide enough to let the music in and that is a very good thing indeed.

Suffice it to say those looking for an album on the order of early Squeeze classics like Argybargy or East Side Story won’t be disappointed. Packed with winsome melodies, joy and jubilation (made all the more expressive by titles like “Nirvana,” “Beautiful Game,” “Sunny” and the all too appropriate “Top of the Form”), Cradle to the Grave is a stunning example of the brilliance Difford and Tilbrook seemingly command at their fingertips.

Sermon on the Rocks should speak to anyone with an ear for melody and an appreciation for a commanding, compelling delivery. Whether or not this broadens Ritter’s reach remains to be seen, but even if it falls short, be assured that it’s still excellent regardless.

Somehow It’s Great To Be Alive seems like the essential set, given that it boasts some 35 tracks spanning all phases of their collective career. It shows them in their true element--raucous, raw and unapologetic, a combination certain to appeal to diehard devotees and practically anyone else whose taste in music is generally affirmed by frequenting sweaty beer joints and any local roadhouse bar.

One interesting thing about Ty Rex is how Segall nicely balances the more familiar glam/Seventies side of Bolan with the early folky-faerie side that characterized his Sixties output.

A rather smooth and relaxing affair, Best Blues proves that sometimes less is more.

These salad days have been solid days for the Salad Boys, no matter how you toss it, making them a sterling addition to their musically rich NZ heritage. Pleasurable neural sensations are guaranteed.

The band, seemingly surfacing out of nowhere has turned in an impressive dozen tracks with their first offering.

An artist of ample prowess, Salim Nourallah can take pride in yet another in a line of outstanding efforts.

There’s a cover of Billy Joe Shaver’s “Georgia on a Fast Train” tacked onto the record (only available on the limited edition CD and LP) that doesn’t quite do justice to the classic, but there are still more than enough bar room sing-alongs on Holdin’ the Bag to make the album worth it.

What might have been a great album merely becomes a good one, due to fact that much needed variation is in such short supply.

This is a portrait of a band firing creatively on all cylinders. Their time is now. Don’t miss out.

For all its shattered circumstance, Carry the Ghost makes the most of its heavy baggage.

As so few acoustic instruments joined each song, placing them all together lends a flattened feel to the LP. That is not to say the songs are not worthy of several listens, Oran Mor Session displays Twilight Sad’s great lyricism and Graham’s impassioned voice.

If you’ve ever fantasized about Hawkwind going motorik, Rehumanizer is your dream come true.

What you might miss in Fake Yoga, if you’ve been around for a while, are the mordant, Wilco-ish ballads that dotted Hesitation Eyes.... Still Fake Yoga is a very solid album and much more compelling than 2010’s Bible Stories.

Graveyard incorporates as many repurposed elements of Free and the Faces as it does from Sabbath, putting more melody into their attack, and Nilsson responds with the most nuanced vocals of his career so far.

Promised Land Sound are clearly onto something special, and it’s going to be a fun ride to watch ‘em develop.

They play one too many Springsteen cards with the dark “Cadillac Road” (at this point, Bruce pretty much owns any lyrics that revolve around mills shutting down), but the record ends on another strong track, “Across the River.” Taken as a whole, All Across This Land is one of the group’s strongest offerings in years.

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.

The quality of the songs and Hawley’s ability to completely inhabit his songs make Hollow Meadows another triumph in his remarkable discography.

This album is a triumph, and with it, Protomartyr has pulled off the unlikely feat of making the rock record of the year, twice in a row.

1970-1975 You Can Make Me Dance, Sing or Anything is as inspiring as its title implies and absolutely essential to boot.

Modestly presented but expertly crafted, Incidental Hum does exactly what a solo album from a well-respected bandleader is supposed to do: show off a different side of the artist’s talent and provide plenty of entertainment in the bargain.

Something so well crafted by a group of individuals that bleeds music and emotions makes me thinks/hopes this is just the beginning for The World Is A Beautiful Place and I Am No Longer Afraid To Die.

Though only nine songs long, Saturn’s Pattern is as close to heavenly as Weller’s ever been.

Weirdo Shrine is everything that the debut was and more.

Good Sad Happy Bad is more an interesting record than a piece of music you’ll return to for enjoyment. It’s a fun place to visit, but you might not want to live there.

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

Hearing it all together, over four discs, his innovations don’t seem as radical as they might have been considered at the time, but they’re nonetheless fascinating to devour.

Something More Than Free is like a novel set to music, each of its 11 songs a separate chapter that, when absorbed in full, leave you with the same kind of psychic shift a good book sets into motion.

Like his debut, 2012’s Clear Heart Full Eyes, Finn’s solo records tend to be a little darker and more-sparse than Hold Steady albums.

With electronic pop maverick Lawrence English producing, they have, if not exactly tamed their sound, at least neatened it up.

Taking the classic British penchant for hiding burning emotion with sardonic reserve and painting with expertly sculpted craft, Howard turns & the Night Mail into a new classic.

At over an hour, Instrumentals may try the patience of anyone not already acclimated to Pearce’s mood-driven vision. But fans who can’t get enough of his distinctive approach to composition and performance may find this record to be the purest expression of FSAness yet.

I like the tumult and ferocity of the album’s first half, though I’m not sure the world needs another “Everybody do the [insert dance move here]” song or anything else entitled “Rock and Roll Baby,” ever again.

With breathy singing and lush production as the connecting skein, Stupid Things That Mean the World puts Bowness firmly on the same level as David Sylvian, Peter Gabriel and other masters of adapting high art to accessible pop.

There is little if anything redeeming about this CD.

The album is brimming with originality. There are hints of Sonic Youth, Thomas Jefferson Slave Apartments and the Swell Maps in the songs.

With 12 songs in about a half hour, the record kind of blazes by you but gives you plenty of room for multiple listens--it’s not a ‘deep,’ layered record to warrant that but one that gives you a rush of grime and song each time you do race through it.

Filled with some genuinely memorable moments The Helio Sequence show that if a band is open to experimentation and letting the light of the new day shine in, fascinating things can truly happen.

Like its celebrated, quarter-century old predecessor, Array 1 is the culmination of the group’s furious fusion of psychedelic crunch, ambient moan and motorik vroom, and a reminder of just how brilliant Loop is and always was.

The record, produced by John Congleton (St. Vincent, Swans), was pulled together after a year spent on the road, and it shows.

Eleventh Dream Day acknowledges its past and could fit in comfortably with the big dogs.

It’s a wonderful soul inspiring, mournfully imbued compendium of her songs that will hopefully continue to inspire an even younger crop of musicians on into the future.

The label unearthed a stellar collection of songs the band recorded over two night in 1968.... The CD set capturing all four shows is where you should spend your money.