Leon Russell has nothing to prove, so his will to rappel off musical cliffs and soar into boogie, big-band jazz and tavern immersion’s rarified air is that much more satisfying.

The result is a combustible album that doesn’t seek to recapture the band’s old spark so much as light a new one.

While there’s nothing here as instantly infectious as “Toe Cutter-Thumb Buster” (the single from last year’s Floating Coffin), Drop plays like some lost weekend at the Fillmore West circa 1966-71.

Food may not make her the star she deserves to be, but this slightly overcooked album is proof that she can cook.

Spiderland is a record that will sound just as exciting 20 years from now. Call it the gift that keeps on giving.

Not many bands in recent memory have been able to combine noise and otherworldly sonics with the sweat and hot breath of punk rock. The Skull Defekts have mastered it, boiled it down and resurrected it.

It’s a fun album, an album that the world is better for having, but hardly something you hope other musicians hear and emulate.

The Both’s self-titled release is the sound of a first date that wasn’t exactly a drag but won’t be leading to a second meet-up.

Though these 11 songs aren’t always as sharply drawn as his best material, there’s plenty to love here.

Even the most drawn-out, mind-bending stretches on the album serve a purpose, managing to avoid sounding like sonic filler.

The result is one of the more confidently presented, mostly inoffensive and ultimately inconsequential albums in recent memory.

His debut may have taken a decade to gestate, but we’ll probably still be unpacking its innovative grooves in another.

The disjointed nature of Under Color’s thrust somehow catapults its enjoyability.

Ultimately Enter The Slasher House excellently parallels the campy horror flicks and haunted houses that inspired the band’s name.

While the results are neither as energetic and original as the peak Sun Records or Columbia recordings, nor as darkly compelling as the Rubin albums, they’re still a lot better than anyone might have expected.

Jackson Browne fans will be extremely satisfied with this set, one that Browne himself must surely be smiling upon.

With Here And Nowhere Else, they’ve thrown the first punch, and it hits you square in the jaw.

The bottom line is, these guys have always just wanted to rock, and Himalayan is the first album that doesn’t let them.

The songs are fast and short; the energy throughout the album is infectious and continuous--which helps to not overwhelm with its cranked-to-11 setting and should have most eager and willing to keep coming back.

Not merely a product of maturity, Nickel Creek has grown without losing its palpable joy or wondrous ability to make musicianship as accessible as the engaging way their voices draw listeners to them.

The music never seems to come from a place of desire to convey something true or honest from within DeMarco, but instead it paints variations of past emotions, interpret others’ honesty, gives a distorted remembrance of the past for a more entertaining present.

Over nine songs, Carey crafts a number of bright, warm, sweeping moments that fit with the album’s theme of the American West, land of exploration and possibility.

Ultimately, Just Because sounds like an almost-redefined version of The Belle Brigade, which is an impressive feat for a relatively new band. It’s just a little surprising that such a sad record can sound so blissfully blasé.

The expansive tracklisting makes for a CD-era 70+ minute listening experience. You can appreciate the varied approach that John and Bernie Taupin brought to the studio with the balladry (“Candle In The Wind,” surprisingly not a US-charting song), the ballsy (“Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting”) and the busy (“Funeral For A Friend (Love Lies Bleeding)”) even if the results led to a less-than-cohesive album on the whole. As with many Elton John albums, there are hidden gems to be found.

As easy as it is to enjoy, there is something fleeting in its pleasures, as if it isn’t quite complete without occupying the same spaces as the band.

Teeth Dreams is the first time since Boys & Girls in America that The Hold Steady toes that perfect line between adolescent, backseat make-out sessions and stoned, intellectual discourse on the human condition.

Odludek does its job well enough as it pulses forward, though it strangely doesn’t stick as deeply as you might expect.

Half of the tracks on World Of Joy don’t even crack three minutes. It certainly validates the album’s garage-punk ethos, but at the same time, it barely gives Howler enough time to prove itself on its second album.