This new album, their first in four years, is a fine return to form, Emily Saliers and Amy Ray trading lead vocals and reclaiming their pristine harmonies without much fanfare.

This album offers a 12-song slice of unpretentious, lovely Americana. Her songs didn’t vie for my attention or seize it; instead, I felt like I was settling into their embrace, unrushed. My heart rate slowed. Erin Rae’s lyrics are wistful and sometimes personal.

Lloyd complements Williams’s plaintive growl with his own tenor saxophone cries, in some cases the obbligatos becoming an ongoing commentary. ... “Blues for Langston and LaRue” shows off Lloyd’s buoyant flute work. The Lloyd/Frisell duet on Thelonious Monk’s “Monk’s Mood” is capacious and endearing. And the album closer, Jim Hendrix’s “Angel”--with just the trio of Williams, Frisell, and Lloyd--is a spare and apt benediction, dispelling darkness with the faith of art.

Condon's lyrics and his singing are nondescript at best, but Beirut retains a ragged majesty that can best be described as, well, French.

Anyone who doubted that Green is one of today's most commanding vocalists simply needs to hear how he negotiates moods here and turns phrases with subtlety, wit, and style. Killer stuff.

Nearly every song on the new Courtney Barnett album has something to recommend it--a familiar melody that takes distinctive turns, a lyric that grows deeper with each listening, strong backup from a band led by Barnett’s rough-hewn guitar riffs.

Praise & Blame may not inspire much panty-hurling but it might cause open-minded music fans to reappraise Jones's interpretive gifts.

The singer-guitarist's mien is again that of a siren dressed in black mourning and white lace, beckoning lovers and loners through the misty moors.

Nearly half these songs are the original demos, which explains some of the austerity that makes it such a compelling listen from a band that's still at the mercy of its muse.

Everything in Between is a triumphant leap forward from an already solid foundation, and one that cements the duo as one of this era's incontestably exceptional indie-rock acts.

Ten exuberant, tender, casually elegant tracks later you realize - much to your surprise, if you're like me--that the pairing of the grizzled country star and the suave jazz master is an unmitigated, ear-tickling success.

He makes his points quickly and it feels like a small but potent dose of reality.

Director's Cut is a fine addition to her gorgeously ethereal repertoire, but it's mainly for Bush completists.

The music is positively spectral, as if she's set up her sound board in the spaces where her absent lover, unborn child, and grandmother used to be.

LaMontagne plays exquisite lead guitar throughout, backed by James on celestial harmonies that boost the psychedelic mood even higher. The resulting album is soothing therapy.

Parker is in fine voice, and despite a few vague lyrics the songs are strong, especially when guitarist Brinsley Schwarz adds his distinctive punctuation.

Jordan exudes a level of confidence that’s all her own, never once flinching at the opportunity to reveal her feelings and insecurities, and it’s her insight and level-headedness that take her music beyond catchy earworms.

It's a dark, personal record that holds big promises for the future.

Call it emo for adults.

Jones and company sound at the top of their game.

The result? Another record--and a good one--very much like the records Parker has been making for the past decade.

Bakersfield gives us two current masters paying homage, not through note-for-note reproduction, but by putting their own reverential take on the music of two country music titans.

There’s true beauty in this disc as Dico soulfully and honestly negotiates her way through the vagaries of love.

Worthy is another finely curated set of songs.

Galactic backs each act with professional, jazz-influenced ease and, on some songs, a hedonistic, dance-rock pulse a la Prince, all the while keeping its Mardi Gras flavor.

Throughout this album, co-produced by Kempner and Gabe Wax, the emotions the frontwoman describes are commonplace but rarely so well articulated, with such matter-of-fact gravitas. ... Some songs, especially shorter tracks such as “Company” and “Sneakers,” feel like they should have been expanded and developed more.

[Silver Age is] an album not just reminiscent of but worthy of comparison to his best '90s material.

It’s not easy packing so many different styles of music into one song--especially ones that don’t stray too far from home in terms of baseline mood--but it certainly helps when so many of them fall between the five-and seven-minute mark, as on the sixth album from British act Elbow.