In honor of March Madness and the laundry list of places targeted in the President’s big announcement this week I thought it was time to check in and offer a series of recommendations to fill up your free time. As in both those instances there are a lot of entrants, some of varying degrees of merit, and thanks to the Spots cutting the number of bands you can see in your history at any one time I need to write about them because they keep falling off the edge into oblivion, so consider this both a public service and an act of self-preservation, otherwise I’d forget about them. (Sadly all bands mentioned will also be hit with tariffs, as is mandatory practice now…)
Since there are so many and the consistency of the albums is so varied we won’t spend equal time on all of them — in some cases just a quick score check and highlight before flitting off to another game — but wanted to give each their moment in the sun(shine), as most won’t be making it to the championship. (My beloved year end list!) That said, there’s still plenty of goodness to enjoy, so wanted to focus on the bright spots and share since I’m sure we could all use a little more joy in our days right now… We’ll start with the lower seeds and work our way up, building in quality and impact as we go, so without further ado, bring on the brackets!
The first pairing is of a couple of quiet singer/songwriters whose last albums landed on my vaunted year end list — both in 2023. One landed at number 10, the other landed in a three way tie at the top (!), so I was excited to hear they both had new offerings in store for us. Unfortunately, both are a bit too monochromatic for my tastes this time with the songs bleeding into each other in an indiscernible heap. The two artists are the UK’s Charlie Cunningham and hometowner Sofia Jensen, aka Free Range, and while both albums give you more of what worked so well on the last ones — “another elegant mix of piano, acoustic guitar, and quiet, contemplative lyrics of love and faith,” to cite myself — the distinctions between those items (and songs) isn’t as sharp. Don’t get me wrong, both albums are quite calming and pretty — nothing to sneeze at these days, believe me — but I found myself struggling to latch on to any particular item within them, be it a melody or a song, to give me purchase and call me back. Maybe that’ll change over time, but as of now I found both to be a bit of a blur and thus a little letdown. (A theme with a lot of these former list makers, as you’ll soon see…) Check out my two favorites, though, and see if you get better footing than I have so far — “New Symmetry” from Cunningham and “Big Star” from Free Range:
We’ll stay in the shade of similarity and another pair of albums that suffer a bit for their homogeneity. They’re from another two artists I’ve written about before, and while they haven’t yet made their way onto a year end list, I consider both exciting finds and have really enjoyed listening to their stuff. We’ll start with the Bozeman-based Richy Mitch and the Coal Miners, as their latest suffers from the same malady as the last two. The album (Colorado’s On Fire Again) is their fourth overall and their first since 2019’s Subliming, and it’s another dreamy mix of echoey vocals, 80s-style guitar, and delicate piano and acoustic parts. The songs are mostly suites here, sketches that shift from melody to melody like half-formed thoughts flitting through your brain. Because of that and how far back in the mix the instruments are, everything has this gauzy feel to it, like you’re hearing it half awake or through the walls to the apartment next door. It makes it hard to differentiate one song/thought from the other and as a result everything blurs together in an admittedly pleasant haze, as if rising from a nap on a warm summer day. You’re not going to get any of them stuck in your head and say “oh I love that song!” like “Lake Missoula” or “St. Paul” off previous albums. That said, there’s plenty of prettiness to lose yourself in, if nothing else to inspire one of those cozy midafternoon naps, perhaps — check out one example, “El, Imponderable,” here:
Their slotmate is Birmingham’s Will Stewart, back with his fourth album, Moon Winx, his first since last year’s very cool homage to Morphine on the 90 Acre Farm covers EP. While the previous band suffered a bit from their songs bleeding together in mood and mixing, Stewart’s do so more from tempo and balance. He remains something of a shapeshifter overall, this time offering us a mix of Petty, Uncle Tupelo, and even some glimmers of Gin Blossoms’ jangle on the album’s energetic tracks. Unfortunately those are balanced out with far more muted (and numerous) meditations that weigh things down a bit too much. They’re all perfectly pleasant slow songs (songs like “Roxy Blue” and “Late for the Banquet” are both touching tunes about love and addiction), but they bog things down a bit compared to those energetic highs and smother some of Stewart’s most attractive elements. Overall it’s still a pretty solid listen, I just found myself wanting more of the bright, effervescent tunes since they showcase his many strengths best. Check out a case in point, current fave “Bird in the Hand,” here:
We’ll shift from the similarity theme to a pair of albums that have plenty of variety and share a somewhat Southern feel — along with a #fridayfreshness crown from our sister site on the ‘Gram, which is how I discovered both acts. The first is former Chicagoan (and current Angelino) Truman Sinclair who recently released his debut album American Recordings. Its lead single “Chicago Flood” won the aforementioned crown with its glimmers of Peter Gabriel and it’s joined here by a handful of tracks which call to mind other heavy hitters. There’s the strong Neil Young vibes of “Bloodline” with its harmonica bridge (or the folksy epic “Joel Roberts,” which has a nice finger-plucked banjo accompaniment), as well as hints of REM on the ode to his friend “Frank” with its mandolin or Counting Crows on the boisterous “Mary.” Sinclair moves quickly, hopping from touchstone to touchstone like a frog across a river, and the album itself lasts but a brief half hour. It’s a promising start (or continuation if you’ve enjoyed his earlier EPs and singles, as I have) — check out the outlaw epic “Joel Roberts” here:
Sinclair is joined in this slot by South Carolina’s Bear Rinehart, better known as Wilder Woods, who’s back with his third solo album, Curioso. It’s been two years since his last one (2023’s FEVER / SKY) and it finds him in an upbeat mood, jumping from sound to sound almost as frequently as Sinclair. There’s the furious Strokes-style guitars in opening “Swimming in the Ocean” and the Wilderado-inflected “Hide Anymore,” the proto-soul of “Time on our Hands” (which sports a solid cameo from MMJ astronomer Jim James — more on him in a bit), and the semi-tribal jungle vibe of “Where Do We Go From Here.” There’s more standard country pop like “Love Last” and the bluesy rumble of “Devil in my Eyes” as well, rounding out the array. Contrary to the previous slot’s Stewart, the softer moments are the ones that send things over the top here, from the breezy beauty “Kind of Magic” to the duo of damsel duets that are the album’s high points — the closing “Wild Fire” with Maggie Rogers and the lights out “Offering” with Anna Graves, which won a #FF crown recently over on the ‘Gram. The latter is so good it’s worth anointing again here: bliss out on its beauty here:
The next bracket is another set of solo shapeshifters, only minus the Southern feel this time. One’s a ‘Gram-mar champion and the other a ‘Spots spillover, my two most reliable ways to find music these days. The first is the former, Nashville singer/songwriter Max Helgemo, whose real self is almost impossible to pick up as you listen to his songs, like a watermelon seed sitting on the linoleum — there’s bits of Shakey Graves (“Taken for a Spin”), Andy Shauf (“Pretty, Pretty,” “You in Mind”), Pete Yorn (“Back at You,” “Uncovered”), and Rufus Wainwright (“Kylie”), but somehow they all work for him. His debut album Looking for an Island came out two years ago and it’s a pretty solid listen, as is his EP New License, which preceded it by three years. Helgemo has recently released a few singles (one of which took the crown over on the ‘Gram) hinting at a hopefully inbound sophomore album, but in the meantime give the lush, melancholic “Spin,” which kicks off his first one, a try here:
Helgemo’s slotmate is Philly singer/songwriter Jordan Caiola who performs as a solo artist under his last name, in addition to fronting the feel good band Mo Lowda & the Humble. He’s released a handful of albums under each guise (two as the former, four as the latter), but the one that’s been spinning on endless repeat lately is his solo album from last year, This Could be Everything. It’s got hints of Noah Kahan on there, singing about the woods and cicadas, as well as Bon Iver and Kings of Leon. (The latter being probably the most prominent echo, both here and on his band’s albums, for how closely his voice mirrors that of Kings frontman Caleb Followil’s.) The songs are really catchy, with Caiola’s voice and a slew of winning melodies drawing you in. Tracks like “Warning Streets” (with phellow Philly phrontman Barney Cortez), “Driving in After You,” and “Los Angeles” all lodge themselves firmly in your brain, as do the aforementioned Kahan-inspired tunes “NY Woods” and “Year of the Cicadas.” My current fave among many is the quiet beauty “Fuji Harvest,” which is just Caiola and an acoustic, softly breaking your heart. Give it a listen here:
The next bracket contains a pair of folkies, one introduced to me courtesy of fan mail, the other the aforementioned #fridayfreshness competition. Both are known for their spare, simple melodies and warm, inviting voices, and I had the privilege of seeing them play together recently at an intimate little show that nearly rocked the crowd to sleep with their soft, soothing lullabies. (I spent the majority of the show with my eyes closed, just letting the words wash over me as I fervently fought actually nodding off.) The headliner that night was Jeffrey Martin, the bearded bard from Portland who my right fielder recommended to me several months ago (apparently he’s big among the softballing community from Seattle) and Martin’s lightly gruff voice and storytelling won me over. He’s released four albums and an EP since getting started in 2009, the last coming two years ago (the solid Thank God we Left the Garden), and he spent several years as a teacher in extremely rural Alaska before doing this. (Which probably gave him the quiet patience and introspective exhaustion he exudes both on stage and in his songs.) His voice reminds me a bit of David Gray and it weaves the same magic, drawing you into his lyrics before pushing you back against the wall when it starts booming. The track “Paper Crown” off his last album was one of the highlights of the show and is a current fave — give it a try here:
While Martin may have had top billing I was most excited to see his opener, Durham’s Lou Hazel, whose debut album Riot of the Red came out last month. Its lead single (the title track) was the one that caught my ear and won a recent #FF competition, which sent me down a rabbithole listening to both it and his earlier EP, 2020’s Carolina (Out of my Mind), on repeat. Hazel might not have as much material as Martin yet, but what he has is every bit as good. He recorded the album a full four years ago, but wasn’t able to release until this year for whatever reason. (He was working as guitar tech for another band and it sounds like that and some label struggles prevented it from seeing the light until now.) It was definitely worth the wait, though, as it’s packed with really good songs. Hazel’s voice flickers between Dylan and Paul Simon while his lyrics explore similar inspirations as those legends, being filled with images of nature and the working man’s world — nothing fancy or forced, just simple slices of regular life. Hazel (not his real name) is an interesting guy, judging just by his banter on stage at the show — his close friend currently lives in a haunted bowling alley in small town Pennsylvania (he’s trying to refurbish it), he makes faces out of mushrooms and plant life while wandering in the woods (he then sells them on t-shirts and merch at his shows), and he’s wary of crows, who he thinks might be following him. (He threw a rock at them once as a child, an act that allegedly sparked this decades-long tension.) His quirkiness is pretty winning, though, and his confessional demeanor won the crowd over, quickly forgiving him when he made a couple mistakes and had to restart (and then abandon) one of the songs in his short set. (He was pretty sick and admitted he was hopped up on Theraflu, but otherwise sounded fantastic.) The song he screwed up just happened to be my favorite on the album, but the rest of his set was so good it didn’t matter. Give “Little Peace” a listen here and enjoy:
The next bracket is for a pair of grizzled veterans and two artists who rank among my faves, both having shown up repeatedly here over the years. The first, Hamilton Leithauser, formerly fronted the beloved Walkmen, who were routine guests on my year end lists and had two show up on my best of the last 15 celebration (landing at #3 in 2010 and #4 in 2008), while the second, Guided by Voices, are almost perennial participants, often having multiple albums land there in a single year. (They’ve done so the last six years in a row, landing at #9 last year, #4 in 2023, #6 in 2022, etc etc etc…) Both are back with kitchen sink affairs, throwing a bunch of new elements in the mix to broaden their sound (and maybe keep themselves interested, at least for the latter), but unfortunately it’s not always for the better.
Ham delivers the stronger of the two, back for the first time in five years with his fourth solo album. In the years since 2020’s The Loves of Your Life he’s reunited his old band for a series of successful tours (I got a chance to attend and was impressed with how well they approximated the heat of their heyday) and tinkered with the songs here, some of which he’s reportedly been working on for the last eight years. There’s a little bit of everything in here and that somewhat haphazard approach to instrumentation and accompaniments means the album is a little tough to pin down. There’s 60s-style “do dos” on “Fists of Flowers” (one-upping itself in the following song with “do do dos” on “Burn the Boats,” along with annoying phaser style sound effects), there’s sax on “Ocean Roar,” there’s marimba and horns on “What Do I Think?” It’s a lot less of the Sinatra-style crooner he’d been showing on some of his earlier albums, but it still leaves me longing for his old band more than anything else. I appreciate that he’s still out there (and I still love his voice when it’s in full throat), the songs just don’t resonate with me like they used to, for whatever reason. “Knockin Heart” is a straightforward fave, though (along with the majestic title track), one that gives you glimmers of that rowdy former self. Give it a listen here:
For the other half of the bracket the relentlessly productive dudes from Dayton GBV offer another sprawling affair, packed with 17 tracks that are a bit more experimental than their recent outings, taking you back to their earlier lo-fi pastiches. Dr Bob gives us a slew of atonal vocals and other elements this time — UFO-sounding phaser waves on “Driving Time,” strings on “Great Man,” Mellotron on “Dawn Believes.” There’s even folky instrumentals as on “The Well Known Soldier” and a Flamenco vibe on “Fran Cisco.” For some reason, though, they ditch most of the hooks that have been in such abundance of late. Pollard said he deliberately stripped the songs back a lot to limit repetition and give listeners a “wild ride” so they’d have to revisit them multiple times to fully appreciate them, but for me the fact that so many songs are missing those melodic bits to latch onto it makes it difficult to want to. There are a few exceptions (the aforementioned “Great Man” and “Fran Cisco” being two) but for the first time in a LONG time I find myself uninterested in going back to this one. We’ll see if that changes as the year transpires, but as of now it seems like the six year streak might sadly be done, unless they salvage things with another album later in the year. In the meantime, check out “Hers Purple,” a winning little blip in an otherwise bleak sea:
The next bracket is for another pair of acts I’ve written about multiple times, with both having landed in that fabled fairground of the year end celebrants. The UK’s Doves last did so five years ago with their album The Universal Want, which landed at #11 on that year’s list. Since that time lead singer Jimi Goodwin said he will no longer tour with the band in order to protect his mental health (the Williams brothers will carry on without him, handling the vocals best they can on the road), but beside that things seem fine for the most part. There’s a couple hints of dissonance (the space age squiggles and theatrical jangles that mar the otherwise pleasant “Strange Weather” and plaintive piano ballad “Orlando,” respectively), but otherwise things sound like they always do. The band’s trademark lushness that will leave you swooning and lightheaded is as plentiful as ever, along with some tiny new wrinkles like the hints of Duran Duran that show up in “A Drop in the Ocean” or the Asian instrumentation that flutters to the surface on “In the Butterfly House.” It’s another pretty solid affair with a lot of good tunes to sink your teeth into — from the soaring, swaggering groove of “Cold Dreaming” to the woozy elegance of “Last Year’s Man” and the stately harmonization on “Saint Teresa.” Lead single and opener “Renegade” is the current fave, though, another textbook distillation of their singular sound. Give it a listen here:
The back half of the bracket belongs to the prolific Texan Charley Crockett, back with another album after dropping two on us just last year. (Both landed on my year end list at #6.) This latest one starts strong with the one-two punch of the title track “Lonesome Drifter” and “Game I Can’t Win” (the latter of which sports some sweet banjo rampages), but then shifts to a curious remake of Tanya Tucker’s “Jamestown Ferry” (a song he already covered on 2017’s Honky Tonk Jubilee) and a slew of slow swaying ballads that quickly put the brakes on that early momentum. They’re all perfectly pleasant (“Easy Money” and the closing “Amarillo by Morning” both shimmer), but overall it leans too heavily on that softer side for my tastes. There are a couple of back half tracks that flex their muscles and/or boost the tempo (the quietly growling “One Trick Pony” and “Never No More,” respectively, the latter of which shows off his trademark soulful side) but writ large it stifles some of his biggest charms. (The high energy charisma and showmanship that comes thru even without watching him live.) That said, similar to Doves this is another mostly solid outing from the tireless ten dollar cowboy and definitely worth your time. Give the aforementioned title track a try here:
The last bracket contains another pair of bands I’ve written about before, though the former hasn’t appeared here for a whopping eleven years! Thankfully we’re fixing that now with the exciting return of California trio Devil Makes Three, back with their seventh studio outing (their first in as many years), and they offer us an excellent album full of specters, struggles, and substances. There’s references to the former in the title track and “Ghosts Are Weak,” the latter in “Ghosts,” “Half as High,” and the hilarious ode to escapism “I Love Doing Drugs,” and the middle in the aptly named “Hard Times” and the somber, stately song of survival that closes things out, “Holding On.” It’s all done with the band’s characteristic mix of old time imagery and folksy instrumentation, and it continues to be irresistible.
The lyrics remain vivid paintings (or protests), depending on what topic we’re exploring — there’s angry mobs and free tombstones on “The Dark Gets the Best of You,” torches and hurled stones in “Divide and Conquer,” and cigarette smoke, stolen cars, and poisoned wells (to go along with the poisoned trees they sang about on on an earlier album) in the song of the latter name. Those ride alongside glimpses of the band’s punk roots, which are evident in the subtle thread (or threat?) of resistance that runs throughout the album. Aside from the inherent grittiness present in the songs about survival (“I don’t believe in chance, I don’t believe in fate, I just believe in holding on”), there’s the reasons behind hurling those aforementioned stones — being misled by those in power (“when they said it was gonna trickle down, you know that they were lyin'”), being manipulated by (and fuel for) their divisionist tactics (“hey, everybody, bring somebody to burn — if it isn’t you now, then you’re waiting your turn”), or being cheated and betrayed by them writ large. (“Underneath the spell, all are forsaken, without a fence think of the profits they would rake in. Nothin’ here was given, all had to be taken – you think this is what they wanted, you are sorely mistaken.”) It all makes for another fantastic listen (this one will almost certainly show up again at the end of the year) so check out the opening “Lights on Me,” which crackles with sinister foreshadowing and sets the scene perfectly:
Joining them in this slot is another perennial fave, the much loved shamans of the stars My Morning Jacket, who are back with their eighth album and first in four years (their self-titled seventh landed at #4 on my list in 2021), but it finds them as strong (and polished) as ever. They continue their trend of opening with a song that soars, serving as the perfect start to both their album and subsequent live shows (a tradition dating back almost to their beginning), and chase that with a handful of songs that are bound to be staples in said shows moving forward. (Lead single “Time Waited,” with its lovely piano and feel good lyrics are tailor-made to spark mid-set singalongs, while the easy, infectious groove of “Everyday Magic” is another bound to sizzle in person.) They throw in some interesting wrinkles again along the way — there’s the hurky jurky “Half a Lifetime,” which initially sounds like the machine was eating the tape before settling into its synthetic rhythm, the island-inspired mashup of “‘Dyer Maker” and the band’s “Slow Slow Tune” on “I Can Hear Your Love,” and the “Maneater” boosting “Lemme Know,” which is every bit as catchy as that sample. (TELL ME you don’t hear it…) Each of them hew more towards experiments like Evil Urges’ much-maligned “Highly Suspicious” and I’m sure will be criticized by fans who only want It Still Moves-era crunchiness and riffs. And while I love that album as much as everyone (it was top on my ranking of the band’s catalog), I’ve also come to embrace their modern day incarnation, with their simplified (some might say greeting card style) lyrics about love and peace and the sometimes strange (and less incendiary) side steps they may take sonically.
Do I wish tracks like “Beginning from the Ending” and “Die For It” would push a little farther, seizing the opening to send things into the stratosphere rather than pull their punch a bit to stay in the pocket? Sure. That said, I still like their current state and am certain they will get stretched out live to unleash the customary flurry of fireworks and achieve their full fury. And do I think frontman Jim James’ lyrics sometimes lean a little heavy on the hippie dippie stuff that might push some people away? I suppose, but he’s still singing the sh#$ out of these songs, blowing your hair back with his delivery so I’m not gonna critique him too harshly. (Just try to question his sincerity (or match him hitting those high notes) in tracks like “Lifetime” or “Squid Ink,” the latter of which comes closest to capturing that live feel on the album, offering a smoldering little solo at the end.) So while there may be a couple instances where you question the decision to hold back (or fade away, as they do on the closing classic “River Road” whose sinister, lurching groove sizzles before inexplicably fading to black in a Sopranos finale type situation), ultimately they feel like minor concerns because a) the songs still get stuck in your head (it’s been a new one every other day for me lately) and b) the omissions only make me want to see how they adjust them live even more (particularly the last track, which could go on for another ten minutes and I’d be happy). In short, I understand some of the concerns, but don’t share them. (I even kinda like “Suspicious” now!) Instead I’m allowing myself to succumb to the album’s overarching positivity and vibe, which is as bright and sunny as our days currently are not. Check out that killer closer (and don’t freak out at the end, frantically checking your gear like I did the first time I listened) here:
That’s it for now — hopefully this tides y’all over for a bit. Until next time, amici…
–BS
15. Tre Burt — Caught it From the Rye / Gerry Cinnamon — The Bonny: this slot’s for a couple of harmonica-wielding first timers, one a soothing folkster from Sacramento, the other a full throated belter from the highlands. Starting with the former, I 
As for Mr Cinnamon, I 
14. Catholic Action — Celebrated by Strangers / Silverbacks — Fad / Idles — Ultra Mono: we’ll keep the trend of the previous slot going, both in terms of first-time entrants for the year-end list and hailing from the UK. (We’ve got three quarters covered — you gotta want it, Wales…) We’ll start where we ended with another batch of Scotsmen (Glaswegians to boot) and the sophomore album from Catholic Action. 
Speaking of moving, we’ll shift to the emerald isle for another buoyant affair, this time the full-length debut from Irish five piece Silverbacks. I’ve written about these guys 
Hitting with the proverbial power of said locomotive comes the final member of this slot, British punk band Idles. Here for the first time with their third album, Ultra Mono, this was one of the rare releases to address the endless outrages swirling around us this year, from racial injustice to gentrification, gropey guys, and more. You can argue with the lyrical effectiveness of the attacks, which alternate between nonsensical word collages and simple sloganeering (and whether this is deliberately done tongue in cheek as suggested in songs like “Mr Motivator” and “The Lover” or inadvertently remains at best unclear if not wholly beside the point). What you cannot deny, though, is the power and catchiness of the songs, which have always been the band’s strong suit. Part Jesus Lizard war machine, part vintage British punks, it’s on balance a solid set of songs — with tracks like “Reigns,” “Danke,” the blistering duo “War” and “Kill Them With Kindness,” and lead single “Grounds,” which sported my hands-down favorite line of the year (“I say what I mean, do what I love, and fucking SEND it…”) it felt good to get a little fiery.
13. Mt Joy — Rearrange Us / Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever — Sideways to New Italy / Woods — Strange to Explain: this slot’s for bands who routinely conjure the shine of our sunny friend in the sky (and the namesake of everyone’s favorite blogger), brightening otherwise dreary days with their music. First up is the sophomore album from Philly band Mt. Joy (named after a proverbial place I think ALL of us hoped we could find this year), returning for the first time since their self-titled 2018 debut. That album was pure, unadulterated sunshine — positive sentiments wrapped in a hippie hemp blanket, their melodies and cheer strong enough to win over even the most calcified, jaded hearts. (Not speaking about anyone in particular here…) This one allows a few storm clouds to darken the horizon (lyrics occasionally touch on things like depression and adultery this time around) without sacrificing the underlying optimism. Songs like “My Vibe,” “Death,” “Strangers,” and the beautiful “Witness” all glow, warming the windshield as you glide on down the highway.
Another band built for the open road is Australia’s RBCF who are also back with their sophomore album, their first since their 2018 debut, Hope Downs. Thankfully the Blackouts haven’t changed the formula that 
Lastly comes the similarly evocative Woods (back for the first time since the overly cheeseball 2017 Love is Love), though the locale they call to mind is often tougher to pin down. At times pastoral homestead, others a spaced out dreamscape, this one bridges the gap between the ethereal aspects of the latter and the lush warmth of the former. Calling to mind the slinky, almost African rhythms of their 2016 album City Sun Eater in the River of Light (
12. X — Alphabetland / Magnetic Fields — Quickies: this slot’s for those showcasing the benefits of brevity, albeit using two VERY different palettes. The former takes the sounds of revved up rockabilly and singsong harmonies that made the LA punks famous and brandishes them again to terrific effect. Back for the first time in 17 years and the first in 35 with the original lineup, the band fires off 10 rapid winners in a brisk 27 minute sprint to the finish. (The spoken word piece at the end is forgettable.) The interplay between frontman John Doe and frontwoman Exene Cervenka’s voices has always been a signature, and their breathless delivery of numerous lines get stuck in your head again here. Guitarist Billy Zoom’s riffs remain pristine, rattled off with the effortless flair of someone who’s been at it for close to 40 years, and DJ Bonebrake’s drums haven’t lost any of their pop. Songs like “Water & Wine,” “Strange Life,” “Goodbye Year, Goodbye,” or the pair of old tunes finally properly recorded (“Delta 88 Nightmare” and “Cyrano De Berger’s Back”) all smoke. This one’s every bit as good as the band’s early classics.
The Mags return for the first time in three years with yet another concept album, this one requiring all songs be under three minutes long. (Previous themes required all songs have fuzzed up guitars or start with the letter I, to name just two recent ones.) Beyond that frontman Stephin Merritt was free to roam and he covers a ton of ground over the course of the album’s 28 songs. Visiting castles (twice), spinning yarns about Shakers, bikers, Jesus, and Beelzebub, celebrating historic tits (not what you think) and outstanding coffee, or simpler things like his favorite watering hole or his musical neighbors. Merritt’s limitless imagination and wicked sense of humor are both on display, presenting some of the best material since the band’s unparalleled classic, 69 Love Songs. The highlights are almost too numerous to recount — “The Day the Politicians Died,” “When She Plays the Toy Piano,” “(I Want to Join a) Biker Gang,” “Let’s Get Drunk Again (And Get Divorced), “I Wish I Were a Prostitute Again,” “The Best Cup of Coffee in Tennessee,” “My Stupid Boyfriend” (which is laugh out loud funny). They all shine, full of Merritt’s characteristic heart, humor, or wonderful melodies — a great return to form.
11. Doves — The Universal Want / Bright Eyes — Down in the Weeds, Where the World Once Was: this slot’s for a pair of improbable reunions from bands I’ve really enjoyed over the years, but who’d been in hibernation for a good chunk of time, seemingly gone for good. Thankfully they’ve returned, both with lavish, kitchen-sink style albums that add layers to their signature sounds. Doves add the least flourishes between the two, but have been away the longest so get to go first.
Gone for a mere 9 years, Bright Eyes are another band that slipped away into the night and were seemingly forgotten. Frontman Conor Oberst remained busy, releasing several solo albums and pairing with other artists like Phoebe Bridgers for side project Better Oblivion Community Center, but the rest of the band (Mike Mogis and Nate Wolcott) were much more quiet. So it was a surprise when there was news they’d signed to a new label (“why does a dormant band need a label?”), which was quickly followed by talk of reunion shows and ultimately an album. And it’s a good one — an ambitious, reach for the stars type outing where everything is taken up a level.
10. Built to Spill — Built to Spill Plays the Songs of Daniel Johnston / My Morning Jacket — The Waterfall II: this slot’s for some long running bands opting to run in place for a minute rather than charge forward with some new material, utilizing two of the four universal indicators for “we’re taking a bit of a break right now.” (Not represented — greatest hits or live albums, or the fabled ultimate phone-in signal, the live album of OTHER people’s greatest hits.) Thankfully they’re both entirely pleasant outings, so no real complaints here.
For their part of the equation, MMJ decided to mine their archives and put out an album of previously recorded material rather than hit us with some new songs. It’s not a traditional outtakes set, filled with one off demos or rarities scattered from throughout their career, but rather an entire album they decided not to put out until now. Originally recorded as part of the 2015 Waterfall sessions, the band initially debated releasing the material all at once, but for whatever reason balked. Thankfully they finally decided to share the other half of those sessions and the fully restored duo work nicely when played back to back.
9. Jeff Tweedy — Love is the King / Matt Berninger — Serpentine Prison: this slot’s for a couple old favorites stepping out on their own, temporarily leaving the comforts of their beloved bands (Wilco and the National, respectively) to uphold one of the pandemic’s primary edicts, that of isolation. For Tweedy this is nothing new — he’s been sporadically taking breaks from the band to do solo tours for years, and truthfully I enjoy those shows even more than the full family affairs. (No offense to the guys — there’s just something about the intimacy of Jeff and an acoustic guitar that is incomparable. Watch 
For Berninger this is the first time he’s given it a go on his own — there have been one-off tracks here and there and the El Vy side project, but this is the first time he’s hanging a shingle entirely of his own. Initially intended to be a covers album, he went into the studio with producer Booker T (sadly sans MGs) and instead ended up recording an entire album of originals. (Allegedly the covers that started the fruitful sessions still exist and will be released later.) The interplay between the two is noticeable on a number of tracks, albeit subtle — there’s no Booker T of old whipping folks into a funky frenzy (although picturing Berninger trying to do so is comical to envision, like your kind uncle rattling off some Death Certificate-era Cube in an attempt to look hard), just understated keys gliding lightly through the background to buttress the songs.
8. Waxahatchee — Saint Cloud / Kevin Morby — Sundowner: this slot’s for two independent faves who somehow prove even more enjoyable together. Ladies coming first (both in courtesy and release order), we’ll start with the latest from Ms Katie who’s back for the first time since 2017’s Out in the Storm. Having previously dealt with the pain and insecurities surrounding love and loss, giving us three excellent albums bursting with vulnerability and quiet honesty, that album was all fiery guitars and full throated resilience, letting everyone in earshot know she had finally found her footing and was no longer going to be dominated by those ghosts — which while great from a personal perspective was not what drew me to her music. Thankfully she seems to have come out of that phase of overt trumpeting and settled into one of more comfortable confidence, giving us an album that exudes warmth and beauty. Songs like the title track, “Fire,” “The Eye,” and “War” all shine, while the twin singles of “Lilacs” and “Can’t Do Much” rank among the finest things she’s written.
For Morby’s part he continues his prolific pace of release, having just put out the full length Oh My God last year. (It 
7. Guided by Voices — Surrender Your Poppy Field / Mirrored Aztec / Styles We Paid For: in a year where there was so much upheaval, so many confusing experiences and terrible firsts, it was nice to have at least one reliable thing to count on, something as steadfast and unrelenting as the virus’ case count and death toll — only positive! That comes to us from our old friend Dr Bob, who may not be able do anything to cure us of the disease, but CAN do a lot to improve our pandemic playtime. That’s because — yet again — the beloved band of Ohioans are back with another album — THREE of them. Which would sound impressive or improbable if they didn’t do the exact same thing LAST year! THAT trio of albums 
6. Cut Worms — Nobody Lives Here Anymore / Andy Shauf — Neon Skyline: this slot’s for a couple first-timers that I discovered thanks to Spotify’s spot-on suggestion algorithm, which was on a tear earlier this year. Thanks to the lockdown keeping us stuck in place, the need to get away was a growing concern as time (but not much else) oozed onward. Some turned to travel shows on Netflix, some wandered down memory lane looking at old photos, while I found myself time traveling to earlier eras musically to stave off the stasis. One of the more frequent vectors for that was Cut Worms, a 
For his part Shauf takes you a decade or so later to a Paul Simon of the 70s sound on his fifth album, a brisk 35-minute gem that nails Simon’s narrative songwriting and sing-speak style of delivery. Covering the exploits of a single night out, this is the second album in a row that Shauf dedicates substantively to a specific theme (his last outing revolved around a night at a party, 2016’s aptly named The Party.) And while the thought of 11 songs about a night at the bar (the titular Neon Skyline) might seem suffocating or bland, Shauf finds plenty to keep you interested.
5. Nathaniel Rateliff — And It’s Still Alright: released before the world shutdown, this was the first album I knew would be showing up at year’s end and was the front runner for a long time. Coming out waaaaay back in February, this marks a return to pre-Night Sweats Nathaniel — softer and more introspective, working on his wounds with his acoustic guitar in hand — but with a few more flourishes this time around. The substance is still the same — the tried-and-true stalwarts of love and loss — but what’s new is what surrounds them: sweeping orchestral sections, forlorn horns, and the occasional choir. It all adds up to a grander affair than before, while still representing the most naked, heartfelt album of the year.
4. Muzz — Muzz: this was one of the year’s most unexpected surprises, a return of components from some of my favorite bands, specifically Interpol’s frontman Paul Banks and the Walkmen’s former drummer Matt Barrick, here with indie hopscotcher Josh Kaufman. Together the trio delivered one of the year’s best debuts, an endlessly engaging album that exemplifies easygoing. If the previous album was emblematic of the year’s emotional anguish, this one was all about staying calm, cool, and collected — the absolute epitome of “chill.”
3. Car Seat Headrest — Making a Door Less Open: if the last two entries represented opposing sides of the emotional spectrum, one tumultuous, the other tranquil, this one slides squarely in the middle and maps its effervescent peaks. Arriving just as the lockdown was settling its jaws into the globe, frontman Will Toledo and company are back with their first batch of new songs since 2016’s excellent Teens of Denial and what should have been the album of the summer. In any normal year going to hear this live would have been one of the hotter tickets in town, captivating concert-goers with its infectious melodies and soaring spirit, a self-assured danceparty waiting to happen. Instead, like everything else we were left to enjoy it from the confines of our homes, attempting to approximate that communal release from our couch.
2. Run the Jewels — RTJ4: aside from the unending pandemic and the lack of live music, the real reason the previous album didn’t rule the summer was because just after its release, video of George Floyd’s murder in Minneapolis came out and the country exploded in protest — at a man’s excruciating extinguishing under authority’s knee (8 minutes and 46 seconds of absolute agony to watch), at years of systemic racism and injustice that enable things like that to happen, and at the overall deluge of difficulties that hit people this year, sparking a sense of righteous indignation and outrage that spilled into the streets around the world. Arriving a mere one week later, THIS album — with its focused fury and awakened anger gave folks the music they were looking for and the soundtrack to the summer.
1. Pottery — Welcome to Bobby’s Motel: having come through the previous four stages of tumult, tranquility, exhilaration, and indignation, we arrive at the end and the thing that will ultimately get us across the finish line — pure, unadulterated adrenaline. This is the album I listened to more than anything else this year by a country mile. (As evidenced by almost each of its 11 songs being in my 2020 Wrapped playlist on Spotify.) Whenever any of those previous stages threatened to tip out of balance and overwhelm, this album was there to give you the energy to keep going — to push thru the pain or manage the anger, to snap out of the fog or keep driving towards that daydream future — the one where you can dance amongst friends, drink amongst strangers, and deliriously drift back and forth between the two.