Music and Recording Reviews

My Morning Jacket: Is
ATO 00688 (LP). 2025. Brendan O'Brien, prod.; Kyle Stevens, eng.; Tommy Turner, asst. eng.
Performance ****
Sonics ***½

After self-producing most of their nine previous albums, My Morning Jacket decided to shake things up and bring in producer Brendan O'Brien. Best known for his work with Pearl Jam, O'Brien has helmed acclaimed albums by the Black Crowes (Shake Your Money Maker) and Bruce Springsteen (The Rising) as well; music fans also encountered him as a keyboardist on Neil Young's 1995 Mirror Ball tour, and on the album of the same name.

With some producers, you know exactly what they bring to the party. O'Brien's forte is large-scale musical forces, scrupulous detailing, and a big, hard-hitting sound. No singer-songwriters need apply. Here, a solid batch of original tunes gives him plenty to work with. You either buy into his forward, in-your-face style or you don't.

Musically, Is leans into muscular pop. "Half a Lifetime" is set to a jumpy stop-time rhythm that opens into sizzling electric guitar choruses. The production on the album's standout track, "Everyday Magic," finds a near-perfect balance of soft verses and bold choruses. Midway through, it shifts into a four-on-the-floor hi-hat, then morphs into a voice-and-guitar wrap-up around urgent lyrics: "I'm wanting to live out my fantasies / Not tomorrow but today / I want a love—I want a life / I want it all—by yesterday." James's vocals are uncommonly rich and well-recorded throughout. Pondering the question, "Maybe there's no tomorrow?" via layered vocals, the gentle "Beginning from The Ending" concludes: "beginning from the ending, love was all that mattered," "Squid Ink" is a plodding riff-rock pounder, and another heavy riff steers "Die for It," which rides soaring vocals. Even the weaker tracks have conviction, carried by the band's renewed sense of purpose.

The strongest MMJ record since 2005's Z, Is proves once again that, if the timing is right, an outsider can make all the difference.—Robert Baird

Mike Farris: The Sound of Muscle Shoals
Fame Records FAME33119 (WAV). 2025. Mike Farris, prod.; Rodney Hall, exec. prod.; Wes Sheffield, Spencer Coats, engs.; Jordan Goodman, asst. eng.
Performance ***½
Sonics ****

There was a time when a trip to Muscle Shoals to make a record was seen as a tonic—or better yet, a shock that could ignite new ideas and energy in a musician's career. Today, with the ongoing neo-soul trend, Muscle Shoals has again become a place to seek inspiration, to tap into the mojo that once defined two studios, Muscle Shoals Sound and FAME.

Though FAME owner Rick Hall died in 2018 (after appearing in the 2013 documentary Muscle Shoals), his studio has remained active, recently hosting Jason Isbell, Bettye LaVette, Demi Lovato, and others. Here, son Rodney Hall has teamed with Mike Farris, former Screamin' Cheetah Wheelies frontman and 2014 Grammy winner in the Best Roots Gospel category.

The sonics in the updated FAME are live and natural, and they support above-average dynamics. A former substance abuser who got religion and has spent a career swaying between blues, gospel, and Americana-style rock, Farris is well-positioned to take on the role of Muscle Shoals soul shouter. On The Sound of Muscle Shoals, his voice is up to the challenge on every track. He doesn't imitate the past so much as channel its urgency.

While the album eventually becomes too ballad heavy, the opening track, "Ease On," is a snappy, convincing soul strut. A cover of Tom Petty's "Swingin'" becomes a full-scale gospel rave-up. It's one of several moments where Farris sounds completely unrestrained, like he's pushing the room to its limit. On William Bell and Steve Cropper's "Slow Train," backed by a brace of vocalists, he resurrects a ballad style Otis Redding once perfected. With a pedal steel guitar leading the way, the country-tinged "Bright Lights" is an easygoing change of pace.

A convincing soul set from a veteran who's paid his dues.—Robert Baird

Jason Isbell: Foxes in the Snow
Thirty Tigers (auditioned as LP). 2025. Jason Isbell, Gena Johnson, prods.; Gena Johnson, eng.
Performance *****
Sonics *****

When Jason Isbell left Drive-By Truckers, he began carving out a voice of his own. The result leans just far enough away from his old band's Southern rock roots to feel new but not alien.

Foxes in the Snow pushes that voice a little further. Recorded over five days last fall at NYC's Electric Lady Studios, this stark and striking album might be his most personal and arresting release yet.

Armed with nothing but a 1940 Martin O-17 and engineer Gena Johnson, Isbell strips things down to essentials. There's no band, no backup, no safety net. Yet the songs land with more weight—and more grace—than many full-band affairs. Every note feels intentional, unvarnished, and close enough to touch. This music doesn't need volume to feel big.

Lyrically, the album circles the end of his marriage to fellow artist Amanda Shires. Fans surprised by the breakup may be floored by the rawness of these songs. Isbell's gift has always been storytelling, and here, even at his most exposed, he brings a filmmaker's eye to the details. His phrasing is precise, his guitar playing intimate but expressive, and his emotional current runs deep. What emerges isn't so much confessional as elemental—a soul bared not in a plea for sympathy but for the comfort of letting it all out.

Vocals are front and center, but the guitar work deserves its own spotlight. Isbell never showboats, yet his playing carries a quiet complexity, like someone whispering something important in the next room. Gena Johnson's production keeps it warm and full-bodied without adding unnecessary atmosphere. The result is a record that's stripped down, not hollowed out.

Foxes in the Snow isn't Blood on the Tracks—only one record is—but it shares the same hard-won clarity, the ache that comes from trying to hold on to something that's already gone.—Ray Chelstowski

Sam Fender: People Watching
Polydor (auditioned as LP). 2025. Markus Dravs, Adam Granduciel, prods.; Austin Asvanonda, Dean Thompson, Joe Atkinson, engs.
Performance ****
Sonics ****

Sam Fender has long drawn comparisons to Bruce Springsteen, partly for his working-class themes, partly for his stadium-sized sound. That conversation will get louder with his record, which leans heavily into blue-collar storytelling and features a recurring tenor sax that evokes Clarence Clemons of the E Street Band.

But this is no retread of earlier work. Gone are the pop-driven textures of previous Fender records. From the opening song, there's a notable shift—sonically, emotionally, and in ambition. The track sounds more like The War on Drugs than Springsteen, which makes sense: Adam Granduciel produced all 11 songs. Fender's sound gains space and sweep. The opener plays like a blend of "Born to Run" and "The Boys of Summer." The songs spark an anthemic charge that feels built for open air. The result is a sound more reflective and restrained but with no loss of impact.

The album's high point is "Chin Up," an Oasis-inspired anthem that delivers on all fronts—emotion, melody, and the kind of communal chorus Fender's fans will instantly absorb. It's the moment where his past and future converge: Heartland rock filtered through a British lens, bold and expansive.

But there's more restraint here, too. The album's closer, "Remember My Name," is a hushed, heartfelt ode to Fender's grandmother. It reveals a quieter side that he had previously kept buried under volume.

If there's a weak spot, it's the writing. Springsteen excels at inhabiting his characters with intimacy and clarity. Fender, by contrast, often sounds like a commentator, eyeing the scene rather than living inside it. That distance sometimes blunts the impact of his otherwise soaring sound.

In that sense, the album's title rings true. People Watching is compelling, if not always fully inhabited.—Ray Chelstowski

Drew And Ellie Holcomb: Memory Bank
Magnolia Music (auditioned as CD). 2025. Cason Cooley, prod.; Justin Francis, eng.
Performance ****
Sonics ****

While they've performed together in Drew's band, The Neighbors, Memory Bank marks the first official studio collaboration between Drew and Ellie Holcomb. Collectively, Drew and Ellie have released 15 albums and earned reputations as two of Nashville's most admired singer-songwriters.

Here, they join forces in a country-leaning set that's warm, playful, and refreshingly unpretentious. It doesn't chase trends or stretch for relevance.

They also widen their creative circle, cowriting with friends from their Nashville community. That communal spirit gives Memory Bank a comfortable, open-armed feel. At the center of it all are their voices—perfectly paired and instinctively in sync. Like Radney Foster and Kim Richey, they blend with a sweet Southern ache. Their phrasing overlaps just enough to sound conversational, like two people finishing each other's thoughts.

Recorded at Nashville's Sound Emporium, the album was captured largely live in the studio with producer Cason Cooley. Its themes center on adult relationships—handled with humor, lightness, and the occasional gut punch of honesty. The decision to record live gives the songs a looseness and immediacy that suits the material.

The title track opens the album with a burst of good-natured energy. It's not quite country, not quite Americana, but it sets the tone for what follows: an easygoing spin that knows when to smile and when to mean it. The ballad "Bones" is a stand-out, with Drew delivering one of his most disarming lyrics: "You are a trumpet a mile away / you are the actor, you are the play."

If Memory Bank has a flaw, it's that its charm sometimes overwhelms its depth. The two artists shine brightest in their solo work, after the afterparty fades, when the emotional hangover takes center stage.—Ray Chelstowski

Japanese Breakfast: For Melancholy Brunettes (& Sad Women)
Dead Oceans (24-bit/96kHz streaming on Qobuz). 2025. Blake Mills, prod.; Mills, Joseph Lorge, eng.; Sebastian Reunert, asst. eng.
Performance ****
Sonics ****

If you're going to bare your deepest truths, you might as well have a top-notch producer. Japanese Breakfast, headed by singer-songwriter Michelle Zauner, took that thought to heart when she teamed with Blake Mills to produce her band's first new album in four years, For Melancholy Brunettes (& Sad Women). And although they've made three full-length albums before this, it's their first crafted entirely in a studio. Esoteric sonic sheens and exotic locales are replaced by rich, world-building, unapologetic self-discovery.

There's sexual self-discovery here and adventures in unchecked desire. These tales are presented with less shame than melancholy (as the album title promises). Even that seems like a kind of celebration when Jeff Bridges himself is invited to lend his wobbly voice to "Men in Bars." There's no celebration in "Little Girl," though, just wistfulness and regret.

To set the theme of love and want, Blake and Zauner's arrangements and production choices are consistent in their unexpectedness. As Zauner muses, on "Winter in LA," on what it would be like to be a "happier woman," the song starts by teasing a breezy Laurel Canyon style before building to a massive wall of sound, with Dory Bavarsky on Wurlitzer. In "Orlando in Love," the multilayered rhythmic accompaniment envelops Italian Renaissance references in a surprising cocoon of vaguely Afro-Caribbean clicks and thrums. The most sonically engaging track is the opener, "Here Is Someone." Zauner's breathy voice contrasts a wild jungle of string sounds, from conventional acoustic guitars and synthesized samples to brightly textured strummed Balinese gamelans. (Both Blake and Zauner are credited on gamelan.) The swirl of sound pulls us into Zauner's world, where desire, memory, and invention never quite settle down.—Anne E. Johnson