As soon as the first few notes of Gillian Welch and David Rawlings’ guitars ring out on the opener “Scarlet Town,” all other thoughts fade away. No more worries of when we’ll hear something new from one of the truest contemporary songwriters of this generation. No more questions about why it took eight long years between albums.

Instead, the mind surrenders to the ears, allowing the rhythm of Gillian’s chords and the gentle picking of Rawlings take over your consciousness.

All is well again.

The exquisite “The Harrow & the Harvest,” Gillian Welch’s fifth studio album, reminds us why we are so willing to wait (not so patiently) for new material, and why we wish it would come more regularly.

The pair has not been a recluse since their last album, “Soul Journey,” in 2003. They did produce a Rawlings-led album, “Friend of a Friend,” last year. They have played out steadily, and they have guested on a number of others’ albums, including most recently, the Decemberists’ “The King Is Dead.”

But we fans are greedy. Greedy for more Gillian.

Among the 10 songs presented on “The Harrow,” only one –“The Way It Will Be” (also popularly titled “Throw Me a Rope” on many YouTube videos) – has been played with any regularity in concert.

These tunes are not background music. This is an album you listen to in your best noise-canceling headphones. The beauty of Gillian Welch songs is their simple beauty: Her voice and his voice intermingle as elegantly as their guitars. Each guitar chord, each plucked note rings with clarity and melds into the next.

The album feels more related to their sparse, earlier works, “Hell Among the Yearlings” and “Time (The Revelator)” than as an extension or expansion of “Soul Journey,” or for that matter, “Friend of a Friend,” which offered more complete instrumentation.

Each song on “Harrow” takes you to a place, mostly to the darker side of life, but seemingly always in search for redemption.

On “Scarlet Town,” Gillian sings: “Now I don’t mind a lean old time or drinking my coffee cold/ but the things I seen in Scarlet Town did mortify my soul” and in “The Way It Will Be” she bemoans “I lost you awhile ago/But still I don’t know why/I can’t say your name/Without a crow flying by…” With song titles like “Dark Turn of Mind” and “Hard Times” (which almost sounds chipper with its picked banjo lines), you pretty much know which side of the tracks you’re visiting.

Yet, while these are tough subjects, the songs are not dour. “Tennessee” is a gorgeous tune detailing life in the South. “It’s only what I want that makes me weak/I had no desire to be a child of sin/Then you went and pressed your whiskers to my cheek.”

This is an album to savor, to listen to over and over to catch subtleties, not only in the music but in the lyrics as well. It is an album that has the feel of being generations old, and while we did wait a long time to hear it, it’s now time to revel in it.

Eilen Jewell, “Queen of the Minor Key” (out now)

It’s a little bit of bad luck that Eilen Jewell’s captivating “Queen of the Minor Key” was released the same day as Gillian Welch’s new album (not to mention Beyonce’s new CD!). While it may initially be overlooked in all the hoopla of Gillian’s first album in eight years, “Queen of the Minor Key” is one not to be missed.

Coming on the heels of her amazing late ’60s-era-sounding “Sea of Tears” (a comparatively short two years ago), “Queen” deftly melds the genres she’s explored on her past albums – the folk and blues phrasings of “Boundary County,” the country swing of “Letters From Sinners & Strangers,” and the electricity of Sea of Tears” -– into a cohesive and unique sound that Eilen Jewell and her band can now claim as their own.

The fact that the album opens with an instrumental, “Radio City,” complete with honking baritone saxophone and no vocals from the headliner, underscores just how comfortable the band is and how willing they are to take chances. Some new voices are added to some songs to lend some depth and color -– Seattle’s Zoe Muth adds sweet backing to a few tunes including “Over Again” and Big Sandy (from Big Sandy & His Fly-Rite Boys) drops in to duet on “Long Road.”

“I Remember You,’’ a slinky, slow-burning number, exemplifies the “minor key” of the title as it scorns an ex-flame about times past: “I remember you/You were locked in a padded room/I tried to teach you solitaire/You just hollered at the moon/I remember you.”

But just because the keys remain minor doesn’t mean the songs’ moods stay dark. The title song brings guitarist-extraordinaire Jerry Miller to the forefront with some swampy Creedence-esque lines atop the country-rock beat of bassist Johnny Sciascia and drummer Jason Beek.

“Santa Fe,” with its wandering pedal steel, is a favorite here. I especially love the imagery in the opening line – “You picked up a broken bottle/In case anyone gave us any trouble/And we walked all the way back to Cortez” -– a beautiful descriptive kind of songwriting we hope to hear more of from Eilen.

Other great tunes include “Warning Signs” and the funky and fun 1-minute-and-45-second Cupid-as-hit-man “Bang Bang Bang,” both play great dirty sax riffs against Miller’s razor-sharp guitar, while the fiddle-driven “Reckless” rides along the country line. “Only One” is a nice Patsy Cline-esque torch song. The album ends with the short surf-rock-like tune “Kalimotxo,” which you wish would never end.

How can such contemporary tunes sound so timeless?

At times, Jeffrey Foucault’s latest, “Horse Latitudes,” sounds like it came straight from the dusty plains of the Old West, sometimes it seems to capture the spark and spirit of ‘70s electric Neil Young. The Western Mass.-by-way-of Wisconsin native’s 10 tunes criss-cross the boundaries of folk and rock offering his take on love, life and redemption.

The title cut, which opens the album with spare drum and bass and the ring of a pedal steel guitar, immediately sets the tone – as Foucault hauntingly sings imagery of time and place: “Drifting into horse latitudes/The Language of thirst/A false communion/The iron taste of blood/In your mouth/The wild blue.”

Many of the songs rise and fall in intensity on a full band of some top-notch players including Eric Heywood on pedal steel, Billy Conway on drums, Jennifer Condos on bass and Van Dyke Parks on keys. “Last Night I Dreamed of Television” opens quietly and builds to some scorched electric guitar lines.

And while some tunes rock, others, such as “Starlight and Static” and “Goners Most,” are more intimate affairs of acoustic guitar and Foucault’s husky, yet near whisper of a voice, echoed by the sweet harmonies of his singer-songwriter wife, Kris Delmhorst.

The album reaches its apex with “Everybody’s Famous,” a searing rocker with a great electric organ run that seems to condemn a society overrun by social media and reality TV: “Everybody knows you/They saw your billboard in the rain/They heard your Mama crying/When you forgot your own real name/And she voted for your heartbreak/And she smiled at your shame/Everybody’s famous/Everyone’s the same.”

The album closes with the very simple guitar and voice “Tea and Tobacco.” Sounds like a perfect way to end a day whether on the prairie or after a hard day at the office.

Amy Black, “One Time” (out now)

I received my copy of Amy Black’s new album, “One Time,” the same day one of my friends gushed to me in an email about seeing her perform recently at a local music festival. Is this karma? I think so.

Another talented New England artist, Amy Black’s new release is an ear-opener, as she confidently straddles the line between country and folk. Her passion and energy are immediately apparent in the foot-stomping bluegrassy opener “Run Johnny,” as she exhorts the murderous Johnny to get out before the lawmen come.

Black, who’s parents are from Alabama, certainly shows her roots on a pair of covers, Loretta Lynn’s “You Ain’t Woman Enough” and the gospel standard “Ain’t No Grave.” She offers a third cover, of Kris Delmhorst’s “Words Fail You.’’

But as the title track , “One Time,” proves, her own material holds up nicely to others’ tunes. It reminds me of early Michelle Shocked with defiant Loretta Lynn-esque lyrics: “You got to stand right up/look him in the eye/Say, ‘Baby, baby, this bird’s gotta fly’.”

Black enlists a stellar group of local musicians — including Mark Erelli, Lyle Brewer and Tim Gearan — as her backing band while getting some tasty fiddle and mandolin help from Nashville legend Stuart Duncan.

Erelli’s mandolin and dobro by Roger Williams elegantly paint the background for “Molly,” as Black imagines the life of a woman who lived in the building before her. “Meet Me on the Dance Floor” sounds like it would be right at home on an Eilen Jewell album.

Produced by longtime Lori McKenna collaborator Lorne Entress, the album is at its best when it swings either playfully, seductively or scoldingly as on songs such as “Stay” and “All My Love.”

Dawes, “Nothing Is Wrong” (out now)

I first wrote about Dawes when I named them one of Modern Acoustic’s “6 Artists to Watch” in the March 2010 issue (No. 28, click HERE). At the time, few knew about the California quartet or had heard its now critically acclaimed debut, “North Hills” (released in June 2009). Now, in just little over a year, this band has exploded, gathering rave reviews, providing backing for the Band legend Robbie Robertson on tour, and in the case of frontman Taylor Goldsmith, finding yet more fame and success in the splinter supergroup Middle Brother.

Dawes’ claim to fame is the rejuvenation of the Laurel Canyon sound made famous in the ‘70s by the likes of Jackson Browne, Joni Mitchell and CSN. You can clearly hear it in their sound.

On their new album, “Nothing Is Wrong,” Dawes continues its musical ride through the LA hills. Goldsmith, who shares the vocal chores with real brother and drummer Griffin, has written a new batch of songs that seem wise beyond his years. On “If I Wanted Someone,” he sings, “I took everything I thought from what it means to be a man/ we need words to be put to what we do not understand/ while you lean into the echoes and you do not raise a hand/ oh woman, help me see it like it is.”

In songs like “Time Spent in Los Angeles” and “My Way Back Home” there’s a feeling of wandering to and from home — perhaps influenced by the band’s nonstop touring — trying to make sense of life’s trials and tribulations.

My original attraction to Dawes — what I referred to in that 2010 article as a “California version of the Avett Brothers; dreamy harmonies over lush acoustic-leaning instrumentation” – is still intact. Though quite few tunes have a sharper, more electric feel to them. “Coming Back to a Man” gets a kick from some up-front drumming and harmonica blowing and “Fire Away” gets some added crackle from a guitar solo and the added firepower of Jackson Browne on vocals and Benmont Tench on keys.

In the end, there is little embellishment needed to make the songs on “Nothing Is Wrong” feel meaningful. They just feel right.

Zoe Muth and the Lost High Rollers, Starlight Hotel

As it proudly boasts in the publicity materials for this album, Modern Acoustic named Zoe Muth last year’s “New Artist of the Year” (see it HERE) for her debut album, which floored us with its authentic country sound brewed to perfection in Seattle, of all places. Now Zoe returns with the follow-up, “Starlight Hotel,” and the prospect of taking her band of Lost High Rollers on the road to those honky-tonks where their brand of music was borne. The new album opens with “Ring of Fire” –like horns and pedal steel giving way to a voice with a twang you swear is a direct descendent of Loretta Lynn on “”I’ve Been Gone.” The band has become more comfortable, more coherent in the year or so between releases – pedal steel, mandolin and acoustic guitars mingle together to give the songs deeper soundscapes. And Zoe’s lyrics continue to surprise, not what you’d expect from a typical 20-something. There’s lots of heartbreak and yearning: On “Harvest Moon Blues,” she sings: “I always feel lonely, even in the best of company.” And on our favorite tune, the jukebox blues, pedal-steel-laced “If I Can’t Trust You With a Quarter (How Can I Trust You With My Heart,” comes this line: “When I heard that jukebox start/I knew the cupid’s dart had missed its mark /If I can’t trust you with a quarter how can I trust you with my heart?”

Buddy Miller’s The Majestic Silver Strings

Needless to say, Buddy Miller is an incredible guitarist and is near legend status in Nashville. On “Silver Strings” he brings in three other amazing guitar players – Marc Ribot, Greg Liesz, and Bill Frisell – and then invites guest vocalists Lee Ann Womack, Ann McCrary, Patty Griffin, Emmylou Harris and Shawn Colvin. Yeah, just a bunch of Buddy’s buddies hanging out and playing music. The best songs are the ones that rock out, including “No Good Lover,” with Ribot and Frisell trading solos and McCrary adding some powerful vocals, and “Why Baby Why,” a kickin’ country tune. “Dang Me,” a rewrite of a Roger Miller tune, features Chocolate Genius (singer-songwriter Marc Anthony Thompson) on soulful vocals and is the lone tune to provide a present-day context to the album. The instrumental “Freight Train” is just plain fun to hear the four axemen trading licks.

Shannon McNally, Western Ballad

As the title suggests Shannon McNally’s latest collection of tunes is a musical ride down dusty roads, with occasional stops at honky-tonks along the way. Opener “Memory of a Ghost: sounds like the country cousin to Prince’s “When Doves Fly,” with Shannon’s southern-tinged vocals singing “Time and time again/I listen to the wind/waiting in vain to hear/to hear your footsteps/coming near/time and time again.” Jangly guitars with some added effects give “High” a mesmerizing, almost psychedelic feel. The album is filled with low-fi sonic treats. The title track, created from an Allen Ginsberg poem, is played slow and smoky, with spare guitar and drums behind it. The second to last tune, the traditional “Little Stream of Whiskey,” feels like an end-of-the-day salute to the train leaving the station, filled with rolling piano, accordion, and marching drum.

“Smart Flesh” is the follow-up to their hugely successful second album, “Oh My God, Charlie Darwin,” and continues the band’s trip into the ethereally intricate calm. Yes, they do break out occasionally, but “Smart Flesh” was recorded in an abandoned pasta factory in Providence, and the ghostly beautiful sounds of acoustic guitar, oboe, organ, and the like ring and echo off its empty walls.

This is immediately apparent on the opening track, the haunting “Ghost Woman Blues.” “Apothecary Love,” one of my favorite songs here, sounds like James Taylor meets Neil Young, with its lilting country melody.

The blending of voices of Ben Knox Miller, Jeff Prystowsky, Jocie Adams, and Mat Davidson is what really sets the band apart. And each is a talented musician, playing multiple instruments – Adams, for instance, plays oboe, the crotales, and even electric bass.

Check out the multiple oboe instrumental “Wire.” On “I’ll Take Out Your Ashes,” plucking banjo mandolin backs the singular voice of Knox Miller singing as an old man: “For time just ain’t no healer, with your ashes sittin’ there/I know you have been counting on me/Ever since your sad cremation day/I scanned all your Alzheimer’s poetry for all that I wished that it would say/It’s a sad and guilty feeling/Since I did not take out your ashes/Whatever I was fearing, never came to passing.”

Put on your headphones to listen to the hushed “Love and Alter” and the title track for a real sonic treat.

As stated, the band breaks out and rocks on a pair of tunes, the 9/11-inspired “Boeing 737” (opening line: “I was in the air when the towers came down/ In a bar on the 84th floor”) and a raucous guitar and organ “Hey, All You Hippies.”

The album opener, “Buttercup,” tells a lover goodbye, with a nasty sneer and an electric guitar and organ backing. The next two songs, “Copenhagen” and “Born to Be Loved,” are softer in heart and in tempo. The former mourns the loss of a friend from afar, while the latter is a nice, slow blues ballad. The lyrics are simple: “You weren’t born to be mistreated/And you weren’t born to be misguided/You were born to be loved /You were born to be loved.” It reminds me a lot of songs like “I Envy the Wind” from “Essence,” where she repeats phrases and feelings for emphasis.

“Seeing Black,’’ written to Vic Chestnutt, who committed suicide on Christmas Day 2009 is, excuse the pun, a killer. Like “Drunken Angel” – which was written about the demise of musician and friend Blaze Foley on her acclaimed “Car Wheels on a Gravel Road” album – “Seeing Black” is rife with not only sadness but an anger directed at the man for leaving life too early.
“Soldier’s Song,” sung to perfection in Lucinda’s tired drawl, is written from the perspective of a soldier overseas, with lyrical images that trade off between the tragic life in combat and thoughts of his family back home: “I hear echoes of shots/Baby’s only thinkin’ sweet thoughts /Why the hell did they send me here to fight?/Baby kisses my picture and turns off the light.” It’s a poignant reminder of what some families are currently going through.

The album, in general, has some nice guitar flourishes. Redemption song “Blessed” is sparked by some crisp electric playing and “Ugly Truth” offers some tasty licks.

The gospel-ish “Convince Me,” features a soulful organ and searing guitar, and the closing love song, “Kiss Like Your Kiss,” is a perfect ending to a superb emotionally wrought album.

One more note: If you get the deluxe version of “Blessed,” you get a second set of the songs, stripped down to their bare bones. Williams dubbed these “The Kitchen Tapes,” just her voice and her guitar. Some of the songs, including the opener, “Buttercup,’’ a rocker on the album, is really great in its skeletal form. It’s worth the extra, minor investment to purchase them as well.

 
The first thing that becomes clear on the new album, “Love Notes/Letter Bombs,’’ is that Blake Hazard and John Dragonetti, the duo that makes up the Submarines, is that they are still in love – even if everything isn’t always perfect.

That might not completely matter since their first album, “Declare a New State,” ostensibly about their breakup and reconciliation, put them on the musical map, and their second one, “Honeysuckle Weeks,’’ about their reconnecting in everyday life, hit it big with the song “You, Me & the Bourgeoisie” (which was nearly the iPhone theme song for a while).

“Love Notes/Letter Bombs” is sort of the pair’s settling in album – you know, alternating between loving each other and annoying each other as married couples do.

“There was so much love exploding into the songs, but the tensions were just as strong,” says Hazard.

On opener “Shoelaces,’’ Dragonetti sings “I’ve had better days than this/ words trip like untied shoelaces/ Still you’re worth falling down for once in a while.” The pair trades off lines about trying to come to grips with their relationship.

Fans who fell in love with the bubbly, electronic beats of “Honeysuckle Weeks” will be happy to hear that the group’s sound hasn’t changed a great deal. (They employed a live drummer, Jim Eno of Spoon, this time instead of the computerized one in the past.)

“Love Notes” initially may not be catchy as “Honeysuckle Weeks,” but the songwriting and lyrics continue the band’s growth.

Many tunes, like “Fire,” “Tiger” and their first single “Birds” (lots of one-word titles on the album!) feature Hazard’s dreamy organ, Dragonetti’s fuzzy guitar and a steady beat enhanced by various techno effects and hand claps. Another tune, “Plans,” has already gotten some play in a closing scene on an episode of “Grey’s Anatomy.”

Our favorite song is the finale, “Anymore,” a Hazard tune in which she’s vulnerable and trying to figure out where their relationship stands. “And it’s not the first time/I’ve heard you say/why can’t you just love me the same way/I disappoint you try as I may/you might be better off without me these days.”

  In our last CD review, of the new Decemberists album, I wondered how the band’s longtime fans would react to their new sound. Well, I can ask the same question here, with Iron and Wine’s latest release, “Kiss Each Other
Clean.”
   Originally, Iron and Wine was Sam Beam, solo acoustic folkster. He built a fanbase around his hushed vocals and soft sound. Band members were added and world beat flavorings were introduced for the next pair of albums, “Woman King” and “The Shepard’s Dog.” The hushed vocals were now enveloped by a swirling, churning beats. Iron and Wine became critic darlings and the fanbase grew and grew. In fact, this is where I came in. “Woman King,” to me, was dazzling.
  And that brings us to “Kiss Each Other Clean,” in which the band, and especially its leader Beam breaks out and offers some new surprises.
  The first surprise is that I can finally understand his lyrics. I loved “Woman King” mostly for the music and mostly because I couldn’t make out what Beam was whispering. On the new album, the vocals are out front. On the opener, “Walking Far From Home,” he sings: I was walking far from home/And I found your face mingled in the crowd/Saw a boat-full of believers/Sail off talking too loud, talking too loud.” I didn’t have to look those lyrics up; I could actually hear them!
  The other surprise is that the songs are a lot more accessible. I wouldn’t call them pop songs, but they are certainly more catchy than his past works. He still is offering up his takes on love and faith, and some of the lyrics are actually quite dark. But then there’s “Tree By the River,” which opens with the line “Marianne, do you remember the tree by the river when we were 17.” It almost sounds like a line from a Beach Boys song!
  The tunes continue to have a world of influences. Touches of gospel, blues, world beat are weaved through the songs. On “Monkeys Uptown,” percussion, electronic sounds, echoing guitar and marimba percolate under Beam’s lyrics. A toy flute wanders amid blasts of heavy fuzz of electric guitar in the haunting “Rabbit Will Run.” Blasts of clarinet punch through the funk beat of “Big Burned Hand.” Beam litters the album with ear candy — fuzzed-out vocals, funked-up bass lines, organs, wind instruments, and electronica of all sorts.
  It all sounds interesting, if not memorable. But by album’s end, I start to grow weary. I really am wishing the band would play one song without the bells and whistles. I just kind of need a break.
  I don’t long for the good old days, but a reminder every once in while wouldn’t hurt.

NPR concert of new album
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6X8j3nmqqkE]

   My 17-year-old daughter and I both love the Decemberists, but I suspect for different reasons. She loves their wildly dramatic flair, their old-world story songs, and that British tone. I love all that too, but what gets me is the band’s sound — rock guitars mixing with banjo and other assorted cachophony-inducing instruments, the minor-chord melodies.
  It will be interesting to see how some Decemberists fans will take to “The King Is Dead,” the band’s superb sixth studio album, because it literally drops all the fancy pretensions of the recent past and really gets back to its stripped-down Americana roots.
  The album falls somewhere between early Neil Young-era folk-rock and a ’90s REM jangle (Peter Buck actually plays on some cuts). Throw in some Gillian Welch backing vocals on eight of 10 songs and you’ve got an album with an alt-country feel.
  ”Don’t Carry It Off,” the first song, showcases the new (old) sound: Hard-strummed acoustic guitar, strong drumbeat and harmonica, and Buck adds some tasty mandolin. The song could have right at home on Young’s “Harvest” album. Gillian’s voice blends beautifully with Colin Meloy’s, which in this context loses that “British” accent.
  On “Calamity Song,” Buck’s 12-string rings out, bringing the REM feel to the forefront. A pedal steel and harmonica ring out in “Rise to Me.” The Neil Young references keep coming back to me. “Rox in the Box” may be the closest thing to a Decemberists story song, about the toil of old-time miners: “And you won’t make a dime/On this gray Granite Mountain Mine/Of dirt you’re made and to dirt you will return.” The songs are creative and feel very true to their sound.
  The album’s single, “Down By the Water” is probably the most rocking tune here. It’s got that REM feel and the Colin/Gillian vocals adds a great tension. “June Hymn” is a nice, acoustic ballad as is “Dear Avery,” which closes the album.
  It will be interesting to see how this album is received by true fans of the band and where the Decemberists will go next. But for this listener, “The King Is Dead” is a playlist keeper.

The Decemberists with Gillian Welch on Conan
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RpnAb2KJ8n0]

It’s easy to hear the appeal of Lori McKenna’s songs to country music stars and fans: the trials and tribulations, thoughts and actions of her everyday characters are those that fill countless country songs.
Yet I certainly didn’t come to her music from a country music angle. I first heard her singing “Fireflies” on the disc “Respond,” a compilation of songs by female folk singer-songwriters, and followed her with delight through the superlative “Bittertown.”
That album is what caught the attention of country-music queen Faith Hill, and gave Lori her brief shot at stardom. Lori toured with Faith, appeared on “Oprah” with her, and garnered her a deal with Warner  Nashville which produced “Unglamorous,” a nice, if overly produced, group of country-leaning tunes. And while the attention was certainly warranted, it left me wanting my Lori back again.
And, luckily for me, she came back.
Her new album, “Lorraine,” is out Jan. 25 and it is everything I hoped for. According to her, the album is named after her mother, though she admits that her real name is Lorraine as well, so it may be just about as much about herself.
And as with her songs of the past, you deeply feel the pain, the uncertainty, the love that her characters feel in her lyrics.
She opens with “The Luxury of Knowing” (which Keith Urban actually sings as a bonus track on his new album), about the ups and downs of a couple’s relationship:

You know that I like to dance/ But only when I’m dancing with you/ You know I must be bad at lying/ Because I’ve only ever told you the truth.
Just when I think you’re a hurricane/ You freeze right over and all that rain/ Turns to ice and your whole world just starts snowing/ I don’t have the luxury of knowing

These lyrics just flow out of her. They could be about me, about you, about people we know. And her voice and delivery is so convincing of both the ache and love. It is why when you hear Faith Hill or Keith Urban sing her songs, well, it’s just not the same.
The title track, “Lorraine,” may be the most personal song of all here as she sings about her relationship with her mother, who died when Lori was small. The opening lines are so descriptive and wonderful:

The kitchen smells like orange peels/ Her stomach turns like a spinning wheel/ She puts the baby down in a little seat/ You should rest now mama you should eat/
It ain’t right you’ve been working all day and all us kids getting in your way/ So she goes to bed as soon as the kitchen’s clean/ And that don’t mean a thing to you but it does to me.

Other great songs include “You Get a Love Song,” which starts soft but turns into one of the few rocking songs on the album, and “Buy This Town,” which Lori described in concert as a song she wrote in her head while driving her kids back and forth through her town to school multiple times in the course of a day.
There’s also a lot more piano on this album than on her past ones. “If He Tried” has with a delicate keyboard intro and “Rocket Science” is pretty much just her voice and the piano (there’s some atmospheric guitar and backing vocals that add to the song’s beauty).
My favorite song  on the album is “Sweet Disposition,” an incredibly soulful and sad tune about someone who has lost her way but trying to find their way back:

My mother left me a wedding band/ And impossible shoes to fill/ Something I’ve always tried to do/ But I know I never will.
If you ask my children about me/ I wish in their brief description/ They’d say I love them with a true heart and a sweet disposition.

Wow. If this stuff doesn’t make you cry, I don’t know what will. This is the Lori we know and love.

“

  Band members Rachel Price, Michael Olson, Bridget Kearney and Michael Calabrese met at New England Conservatory, but don’t let that dissuade you from putting on this album and dancing around your living room because as Lake Street Dive they play … a wicked mix of country/bluegrass/soul music.
  Price’s voice is soulful, sweet and moving and is backed by solid musicianship, that includes Olson’s enthusiastic guitar and splendid trumpet interludes, Kearney’s acoustic bass, and Calabrese’s steady, sometimes funky beats as well as keyboards.
  The sound of organ, bass and drums is intoxicating on “Don’t Make Me Hold Your Hand.’’ “Henriette” opens with guitar licks reminiscent of early Beatles but then quickly turns into a funky, jazzy tune with a Kearney bass solo in the middle! “Miss Disregard” is a great kiss-off song and “Elijah” is just pure, bouncy fun. “Neighbor Song” opens with the line “I can hear my neighbors making love upstairs/There love is rattling my tables and my chairs.” You think it might be a funny song but it instead explores a sadness of loss of love. A beautiful trumpet solo echoes the heartache and wanting. Lake Street Dive is another in a long line of great, homespun artists picked up by the small Western Mass. label Signature Sounds.
www.lakestreetdive.com

Lucinda Black Bear, “Knives”

  It’s always fun when you come across a band that sounds new and different. Of course, if it doesn’t sound good, who cares? Luckily for us, New York-based Lucinda Black Bear, sounds both different and good.
  Its second album, “Knives,” on the small Eastern Spurs label, the group — Christian Gibbs on vocals and guitar, Mike Cohen on bass, Kristin Mueller on drums, Chad Hammer on cello – stretches out, adding intricate arrangements that include loops and feedback to its folk-based tunes. It’s a sound that’s not simple to describe: equal parts experimental folk, indie rock, and chamber pop. One song may have the arc of Arcade Fire-esque indie pop, the next will soar like a new-school version of Queen.
  “Hand Bible,” with its guitar-plucked melody and electronica, starts slowly and builds to a crescendo of instruments, drums and bass crashing over Gibbs plaintive vocals. Our favorites include “Laugh at My Tears,” which features a full chorus and guitar break a la Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody,” the neo-country of “She’s a Killer” and rocking “Suffocation Blues.”
www.lucindablackbear.com

The Bowmans, “Live at PowerPlay Studios”

  Sarah and Claire Bowman, twin sisters who have been performing around New York City for years, were recently invited to record these 13 songs – some new, some from past albums – live at the famous Powerplay studio in Maur, Switzerland, a place they have returned to often.
Sarah wrote most of the tracks and plays guitar, while Claire provides the harmonies and percussion, oh, and the album art.
  Playing live proves to be inspiring as this album is filled with the pair’s beautiful shared harmonies.
Back-to-back songs “You’re Right,’’ which urgently rocks on its acoustic guitar backing, and “The Kitchen Song’’ are particularly ear-catching.
  On “On the Road,’’ Sarah sings: “The bumpy road might break your toes, so you will never know/But I’ll take my chances, cut my losses. ’Cause I would rather go.” Sounds like they had a good trip.
www.thebowmansmusic.com