He came out the other side with a hard-won wisdom, emotion and sense of craft that, like soul music, never goes out of style.

The album is a good beginning for Will Toledo and crew one on which they’ll hopefully build upon. Some of the tracks though seem too reek of an “indier” than thou attitude that’s best left at the door.

The lack of anything that’s decidedly uptempo may be a detriment to some, but the blend of strings and acoustic instrumentation more than compensates for the subdued stance.

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

It’s an odd little record, a kind of confessional chronicle that gradually gets under your skin. In this era of fractured self-identification, Ten Hymns From My American Gothic nicely serves as a soundtrack for all the searchers and seekers out there.

While some tracks prove unradical, it is when Astronautalis fuses heavy bluesy-rock influences with his beats that Science truly shines.

The well crafted moments within Our Love outshines the weaker numbers and makes the album a fun and danceable listen.

The problem is the album starts to wear thin about halfway in and never really gets back the strength of those first few songs.

COIN COIN is not an album made for casual listening (that's probably the idea) nor is it entirely successful, but it has an absorbing quality that warrants further listens.

Seven songs long, it offers the impression of one continuous tirade, despite the moments of sublime tenderness that illuminate tender courting tunes like “Heaven Is Here” and “The Enemy,” each of which bring to mind such heartfelt Harper ballads as “Commune” and “Another Day.”

As incisive a crime story as ever committed to a groove, Juarez is striking and surreal, a torrid and twisted pastiche stirred from decadence and desire.

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

Intended as the follow-up to Griffin’s sophomore set Flaming Red, Silver Bell finds a young artist still determining her direction. Griffin’s furtive vocals dominate the album overall, but the settings shift dramatically throughout.

Skying proves a maturing for the band and unveils a new realm of sonic possibilities.

Ultimately, Wine Dark Sea is all about the mystique, making it nothing less than a fascinating ethereal excursion.

Big Star was more than the sum of its parts, and as evidenced here, Chilton was only just beginning to mine his.

Mountains composes the soundtrack to dreams you didn't know you had.

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.

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.

Opening the door of your mind’s eye to the psychedelic sludge and acid punk hooks of Slave Vows will gain you a lot of decadent pleasure, little insight and even less mercy.

Whitmore may not have the same potential to fill the nation's arenas, but his rugged determination finds him undeterred regardless.

Despite the variety, this is a decidedly marginal set of songs, one that’s well out of sync with even the most archival Americana.

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.

Immunity pounds and pulses with pneumatic energy, its rhythmic tracks (“Collider” but also “Open Eye Signal”) gleaming with machine-precise hedonism.

The same basic sound is here, but a bit dancier and more electronic groove. Not nearly as much of the straight pop or shoegazey stuff.

Time Off takes its time getting where it’s going, but deftly reaches its destination.

There are certainly times when a bit more instrumentation (a cello, some percolating percussion, a lyrical guitar solo) would have enhanced the presentation.

The lack of a rhythmic anchor sometimes gives the songs more free form than they actually need--there’s a difference between playful interchange and self-indulgence. But most of the music simply translates deep musical respect and chemistry into moments of artistic fire and great beauty.