All in all, it makes for a rich and resilient brew, and maybe, just maybe, the kind of opus that will propel Jurado towards the greater accolades he so clearly deserves.

While some songs are utterly slow paced, they are obscured by the strength of the aforementioned tracks as well as “The Fall” and “Last Dance.”

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.

Look Closer sits in a similar wheelhouse as most Daptone projects, working a familiar vein of late ’60s/early ’70s soul.

The real problem is that there’s little, if anything, to distinguish any particular track from the one that precedes it, omitting anything of hummable worth for vague, languid repose.

Their latest, crammed with 17 tracks, will likely be a case of too much of a good thing for all but the hardcore fans.

Elvis at Stax, discreetly packaged, replete with complete credits for musicians, singers, and studio personnel, and excellent (if fawning) Robert Gordon liner notes, is a nice corrective.

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.

Though the band seems to have packed all of its musical interests and abilities into the album’s 11 songs, this is a most likely only a sampling of their capabilities and of the colorful ideas yet to spring from the mind of Jocie Adams.

Away has some fine moments, but is an LP completists will get the most mileage out of, perhaps as that curio figure in an artist’s evolution to somewhere else.

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.

If anything, Atlas sounds like a fully formed album from another era, complete with woozy harmonies, an assured shimmer and a constant jangle.

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.

If, after four decades, Terms of My Surrender appears to take a change of tune, in Hiatt’s hands it’s a winning formula regardless.

Yes, this type of record has been done before, and arguably better, but there are still some powerful tracks on The Things.

Bid and his crew are real pros, totally confident.

Some of their ‘80s-style material also works in a pretty way (“Re-invent Your Second Wheel,” “BW Silence,” “Time Lock Fog”), but not so that you’re convinced that their collective hearts are in it.

The best of these songs, by a long ways, is "Counting." [...] Yet elsewhere, Ashin sounds like he's treading water, emoting floridly but to no real purpose over shiny, surface-y arrangements.

That McCombs is seeking a specialized niche seems all too obvious, even though his sound flirts with being elusive.

Local Business represents a new chapter in the band's saga, but it's one you're better off skimming.

The songwriting doesn’t quite match the ambitions here, and that gives the LP a transitory feel--that, too, may be fitting, given Huebert’s long season.

Contrary to its title, Do Not Disturb might prove disturbing to those whose tastes don’t necessarily allow for introspection of intrigue, but for those that miss the adventure and ambition British prog rock once had to offer, it’s well worth the risk.

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

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

On the album’s second half, Foster and her producer/bassist Meshell Ndegeocello steer more towards a softer sound (“Learning To Fly,” “New”) that glosses over some of Foster’s grit. Still highlights are easy to find.

Sadly the momentum's not maintained once DeCicca and company quickly slip back into their plaintive posturing.

Modestly presented but appropriately self-confident in its dedication to craft, Hendra is a low-key but sturdy delight.

Overall, the EP--which would earn a higher grade if there were simply more of it--captures a contemplative Wareham midway between Luna’s driving pulse and the darker fare on Dean & Britta’s 13 Most Beautiful: Songs for Andy Warhol’s Screen Tests.