The album sounds beamed in from an earlier decade, but it runs deeper than nostalgia.
The Gun Album is propulsive rock that’s stripped of pretensions.
The Agoraphobic Cowboy is more fun than chasing tumbleweeds.
Catharsis seems all too common a motive behind cutting a record.
Everyone into Position would sound right at home in the middle of the grunge-metal of the early ’90s.
It’s not surprising that much of Firewater has a blast-from-the-past feel.
So much of Dog Days sounds like a better-than-average Brooks & Dunn album.
Your Man may establish Turner as a star, but it doesn’t resolve the lingering questions about his artistic mettle.
I Remember Elvis has enough of a gimmick that it should introduce Jackson to a new generation of fans.
Sun, Sun, Sun is a likeable enough album, but it leaves only the most faint of impressions.
“We Belong Together” earned its title long before this year’s nominations were even announced.
The emails were mostly informative and insightful, sometimes infuriating and self-important, but almost always funny as shit…at least to us.
She Wants Revenge is a testament to a time in dance music history when everything old is new again.
Nina’s political fire never went out, but her music did become sunnier toward the end of the ’60s.
Tales from Turnpike House is a modest triumpth.
While a lot of Reconsider Me is damn good, it’s not sufficiently representative of the quality (or quantity) of Zevon’s love songs.
If In My Mind sags, it’s not because Heather Headley is in any danger of a sophomore slump.
The inescapable vibe of a smoky honky-tonk permeates Rabbit Fur Coat.
The Greatest feels like a late-night walk down the loneliest street in the world.
With little fanfare, the Broken Arrow-based Ester Drang has become one of the little-known gems of indie rock.
P.O.D. sits on the throne that Creed always refused to.