SOUND BITES

  Reunions can be tricky things to navigate, especially when they result in new music. Expectations become deeply engrained in fans' minds when the prospect of a grand recorded return is floated; it's only natural that, when you think of any artist you respect or admire, you remember their best work first. The risk of sullying a legacy comes into play if what you're returning with doesn't meet those expectations, even if they're unfair; that said, to expect any band to maintain the same youthful energy and creative intensity that they had during their peak is to practice a losing game in most cases, and I would argue that the responsibility is just as great for the listener as it is the artist in these situations.  For example, if you're prepared to dismiss the first full-length Alexisonfire album in 13 years because it doesn't go as hard as Watch Out! or Crisis , you're entitled to your opinion but you're not doing yourself any favours as a fan; he

  Diving back into The Armory Wars saga that's defined their entire career (save one record) with the first volume of a planned five-album arc in 2018, Coheed and Cambria rewarded longtime fans worried about the abandonment of their epic sci-fi prog with a massive 79-minute behemoth that delivered everything a fan could hope for in spades; maintaining their gifts in storytelling while creating some of the most interesting and accessible music of their career, Vaxis I: The Unheavenly Creatures was a staggering accomplishment for a band that could have easily phoned in a dozen Welcome Home clones and watched the dollars roll in. One of the elements that really surprised me about the first Vaxis installment was its sustained quality, with its closing three tracks especially effective in showcasing the group's considerable talents and setting the stage for a wildly anticipated second volume. Vaxis II: A Window of the Waking Mind arrives later than any of us hoped for (at 3½ yea

  When Weezer dropped the first of four seasonal EPs in March, it became clear early and often that the gimmick was taking precedence over the songs; aside from the Vivaldi interpolation and the increased use of acoustic instruments, underneath the hype this was simply another batch of mediocre-to-passable Weezer songs.  If Spring felt like a continuation of the orchestral OK Human , then Summer acts as a shrunken sequel to Van Weezer , their other 2021 album and one that saw them attempting to flex their rock muscle, tipping their leather hats to guitar heroes of the '80s. Well, sort of; this EP also naturally features more nods to Vivaldi and some of the sugary power pop that Weezer can't help but hit upon occasionally whether they're trying to or not, but it also has record scratches ( Records ), a little synthy new wave ( The Opposite of Me ), and a good old fashioned Beatles-esque horn intro ( What's the Good of Being Good ). Its main area of focus, though, is more

  For over fifteen years, Foals have straddled the line between their critically acclaimed indie rock beginnings and their world-sized mainstream ambitions; so as to say, as much as they have relished any and all opportunities to challenge themselves and push their sound into new directions, there's always been that deeply ingrained penchant for massive hooks. Because of this duality, Foals have often found themselves in the rather rare position of experiencing minor commercial breakthroughs while simultaneously experimenting with different styles and techniques. Juggling these two disparate ambitions isn't easy, but to this point they've managed to have it both ways with minimal backlash. When they first garnered mainstream attention, it was with the disco-tinged single My Number in 2013; that song was an obvious outlier on Holy Fire , an album that was far darker and more nocturnal than the bright grooves of My Number would lead you to believe. Follow-up record What Wen

  The sixth album by Joyce Manor finds the Californian power punk poppers entering their second decade as a band in much the same headspace as they've been in since their inception; while detours have been few and far between (2016's Cody a little grungier, 2018's Million Dollars to Kill Me a bit more melodic), Joyce Manor have gotten very good at what they do, which is offer up quick and easy slices of anxiety-ridden rock for a generation of fans with shrinking attention spans. Indeed, 40 oz. to Fresno continues Joyce Manor's streak of short, sweet albums; including the new one, their entire six album discography can be consumed in under two hours. There's a built-in old man yelling at cloud diatribe that comes with the slightness of Joyce Manor's records, but I have to acknowledge that issuing albums in the twenty minute range ( 40 oz. to Fresno has nine songs and runs about seventeen minutes, only two of which crack the two minute mark) is probably the sma

  It's always kind of felt like The Sheepdogs came from an alternate dimension. The story of their rise to prominence as a group of Guess Who loving dudes from Winnipeg being chosen as the winners of a contest that immortalized them as the first unsigned artist to ever appear on the cover of Rolling Stone, then having their major label debut produced by Dan Auerbach while The Black Keys were arguably the biggest rock band of the world... well, it sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? Yet, here we are, over a decade removed from their breakthrough and now seven albums deep into a career that's seen them become one of Canada's most cherished touring acts. Also, their discography is remarkably consistent, their reverent songs echoing classic rock staples while never sounding explicitly like retreads; truly, The Sheepdogs have remained eager students of the game, and each release falls into place among the rest with ease. Outta Sight , their first album in four years (although las

  Although politically motivated material has been a part of Drive-By Truckers' DNA since their inception over 25 years ago, they'd never been as explicitly political as they became in the time surrounding the Trump administration; a pair of albums, 2016's American Band and 2020's The Unraveling respectively, dove headfirst into the ugliness of Trump's America, resulting in sustained critical acclaim but harsh division among their fan base. Many of these fans had gravitated to DBT through their rough and ragged tales of life in the south (especially on their landmark 2001-04 run of Southern Rock Opera , Decoration Day and The Dirty South , the latter two showcasing the brilliant beginnings of Jason Isbell's craft), so it sort of makes sense that there were plenty of Trump supporters in the audience who didn't take too kindly to the increased criticism of so-called Republican Values. For their fourteenth album (serendipity with the new album's title wa

  From their inception in the mid-nineties, Wilco ran from the notion that they were a country group; while I'd never considered them as such, I conceded some alt-country leaning tendencies in their first few records, the kind of ragged and intelligent Americana that was miles apart from the chicks-and-trucks dreck that soundtracked beer commercials and line dances. Even at their most country (like, say, Casino Queen or Passenger Side from their debut), there was that burgeoning Wilco wit that elevated it from the majority of what the genre had to offer. By the time they developed into the American Radiohead not even a decade into their career, country was the furthest thing from most folks' minds when they thought of Wilco. It's a little weird, then, that their twelfth album (and second double album) would find the band fully embracing the country label for the first time. Now, it should be said that a country album from Wilco doesn't sound markedly different from ma