I can't imagine a more Americana-sounding name than The Cumberland River Project, a more Americana band sound (acoustic guitar, mandolin, pedal steel, fiddle) or a more American-looking guy. That's why I was so surprised when band lead Frank Renfordt's singing sounded kind of English, with his bio saying he's "a songwriter from Germany." But then again some of the best Americana comes from distant shores, as I noticed in Ireland. The Cumberland River Project's newest project is an EP titled Meet Me In The Rain.

Renfordt is now in his 60's and says his band's musical image is "proof positive that you are never too old to follow your dreams." His dreams had been put on hold while he worked and raised a family, but in 2020 he released his first solo album under the band's name. Here in 2026 he's now "embarking on a journey where he owns the all aspects of song creation from start to finish." As such, Renfordt sings and plays acoustic guitar, baritone guitar, bass, mandolin, keyboards and drum programming. He's assisted by Jessie Morgan (harmony vocals/fiddle), Neemias Teixeira (piano) and Aaron Fabbrini (pedal steel). The songs span Americana, country and rock, and are said to be "introspective dives into becoming old (and) a commentary on where the world sits today."

"Turntable" starts with strummed acoustic, conveniently accompanied by one of those Spotify video loops showing Renfordt playing in almost perfect sync. There's also slide resonator guitar and pedal steel. Again, Renfordt is of German heritage so it surprises me that he has an English lilt. This is the kind of easygoing song where everyone joins in and creates a wall of interwoven notes and chords, blending with the lovely chorus harmonies. This couplet captures Renfordt's world view perfectly: "And I try to take it easy / Walk on by and let things go / The day I die I hope they find me / With the turntable running in my home."

"Leave The Lights On" immediately slows the tempo for a luscious piano-and-guitar ballad, with lots of pregnant air between the notes. The vocal is lower with a slight edge, like an English John Prine. Though of course I immediately thought of those old Tom Bodett radio commercials, the refrain of "leave the lights on" turns out to be a perfect analogy for a heart-tugging visit to distant points in the singer's life: "When my demons come along / And I'm out there all alone / You wait to light my home / And leave the lights on." The next track "I Want You Back" leads with fiddle, claps and five-string banjo. The bass also jumps to the near-fore with a cool walking melody. This is an "I want you back" type song where the heartbroken narrator seemingly rouses his entire neighborhood to sing at his Sweetie's bedroom window. Broken love was never so much fun!

"Song 4 U" has a Prince-like title but a Harry Nilsson rhyming scheme. Mandolin takes a star turn between the chorus and second verse, with Renfordt's intimate vocal sounding like a mix of John and Paul. We're now four songs in and Renfordt hasn't run out of memorable chorus lyrics: "It all sounded cheesy and wrong / Your light shines too brightly for a song." Anyone who ever tried to honor their mate with a song-written tribute can relate to hitting way below the mark, but Renfordt has done it here. "Leave-Me-Town" is a mix of Gordon Lightfoot music with Neil Diamond's vibe. Lots of guitars and they're all stellar, as are the vocal harmonies. "Redbuds In Bloom" concludes the set with a slower reverie based on a mournful piano melody and a rich mix of vocals and even strings. 

I love how Americana seems even more authentic the further away it gets. The Cumberland River Project is a fascinating mix of influences with great songwriting, and I totally enjoyed it.

Some records instantly remind me of a specific time in my life. Listening to Razed by Rebels pulled me back about twenty years, to a stretch of my twenties when dramatic, emotionally loaded rock and industrial hybrids seemed to dominate late night headphones and dimly lit rooms. Jason Winfield, the creative force behind the project, leans fully into that tradition across this nine song album. The music does not try to hide its intensity. It embraces it, building songs that push forward with a kind of theatrical urgency that some listeners will probably find cathartic.

“Until It’s Over (feat. Hope Irish)” opens the record with a blast of electronics and a tone that instantly reminded me of the industrial rock that shaped the late 90s and early 2000s. At times I hear echoes of Nine Inch Nails in the textures, while the emotional tone occasionally drifts toward the kind of youthful angst that Linkin Park once channeled so well. It sets the mood quickly. “The Nobodies (feat. Alva Sim)” moves in a different direction while still leaning on electronic textures and was my personal favorite song. The female vocals stand out here with some great singing. The male singer delivers his lines with a dramatic, almost theatrical energy that pushes the song toward a heightened emotional space.

“Beware the Hunters” arrives with heavier guitars and a thick 4/4 pulse. The track has weight, although the structure stays fairly steady rather than shifting through the dynamic swings many rock songs rely on. “Shattered Eyes” introduces one of the stronger hooks on the album, while “A Way Through” pulls things inward slightly with a more reflective tone.

The intensity returns with “Hiding Within.” The track carries the energy of a rock song, although the rhythmic structure again holds steady rather than expanding outward. “Together We’ve Lost (feat. Alexandra Ayoob)” adds another emotional layer to the record, while “Directive #1” unfolds more slowly, almost like a gradual build rather than an immediate impact. “Heaven’s Gate” closes the set with another heavy entry.

The album leans unapologetically into drama and emotional weight, the kind of sound that once defined an entire era of alternative and industrial rock for young people. For listeners who connect with that intensity, the record may land as something genuinely cathartic. I can easily imagine people finding a lot to connect with here.

Matthew Spreen makes emotive folk music that refuses to smooth out its rough edges. The recordings carry the fingerprints of someone working close to the source, leaning into a DIY process that favors immediacy over polish you hear on modern pop. Voice and acoustic guitar form the center of gravity, and most of the arrangements stay close to that core. The music is sparse, but the restraint feels intentional, as if Spreen is allowing small gestures to carry the emotional weight rather than stacking the songs with production.
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Unfinished-Love Songs focuses on the unraveling of a relationship and the strange relief that can follow when affection finds its way back into the room. The EP stays firmly within the folk singer-songwriter tradition, and most of the material unfolds without much additional ornamentation.

That minimal framing lines up with the subject matter. There is a desire for simplicity running through the songs, the kind that allows a person to feel exposed while still holding on to a sense of freedom in front of someone they trust.

“Paths” opens the record with the familiar pairing of acoustic guitar and vocal before drifting into strummed chords and a touch of orchestration. It is a direct, uncomplicated introduction and I really enjoyed it. “Apples” keeps things similarly grounded with more strummed guitar supporting the vocal performance, while “Forgot The Paper” slows the pace and leans into a bit of atmosphere. “Clementines” has a few memorable turns and you can hear a touch of Dylan. "Ocean Of Love” closes the EP with some solid guitar picking.

Spreen is an emotive singer even when the pitch drifts slightly off center. Those slight imperfections add a bit of character to the recordings rather than detracting from them. The EP often lands in the territory of late 60's bohemian folk, the kind of material you have likely encountered many times before. A musician emoting into a mic with a guitar is about as timeless of an image I can imagine. There are some solid songs here, delivered with a sincerity that feels unforced.

The Charles Owens Trio’s 10 Years returns in an expanded edition that puts fresh light on a session originally recorded during the turbulence of 2020. The album came together in a single six hour burst, with saxophonist Charles Owens joined by bassist Andrew Randazzo and drummer DJ Harrison. After a decade of playing together the trio operates almost on reflex. The music moves with the kind of looseness and trust that only develops after years of shared stages. This new version also marks Owens’ first vinyl release of the album, now expanded into a double LP that includes previously unheard jam interludes driven by Randazzo and Harrison.

Owens has described the session as a vulnerable moment for him, leaning on a band that had been together for ten years to carry the music forward in real time. That sense of human connection runs through the album. I love songs that sound like actual people playing in a room, and “Cameron The Wise” opens the record with that crisp immediacy. The horns glide over a smooth pocket while the bass and drums settle into a groove that is relaxed but focused. It is a great opener and sets the tone quickly.

“Caught Up In The Rapture” stretches close to eight minutes and leans more into funk, giving the trio space to let the groove breathe. “Angelica” stands out for its sharp timing and seamless transitions, the band shifting direction without breaking the flow.

“Central Park West” changes the atmosphere entirely. The tune plays like a nighttime score pulled from an old L.A. noir film. I pictured foggy streets, dim street lamps, and that quiet melancholy that sits in the air long after midnight. It gives the album a reflective pause before the energy rises again.
“If 6 was 9” is another highlight. The phaser effect sends the track spinning with a wild sense of motion while the improvisation keeps everything unpredictable. The drums in particular refuse to settle into a straight beat for very long, which adds to the restless energy. “Misty Mountain Hop” borrows its title from the Led Zeppelin song but the trio takes the piece somewhere entirely different.

​With only a couple exceptions, the record carries the feeling of one continuous live session. At times it was hard for me to separate the songs in my mind, but that is also part of the appeal. This is an album you let ride from start to finish while the trio locks into its grooves and lets the jams unfold. There is plenty here to appreciate. Take a listen.

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Nigel Brown’s While Away is an album that brought me back across different decades with different sounds. After years submerged in instrumental production work, the London artist returns to vocal-driven songs with a kind of measured confidence, and I can hear that recalibration immediately. 

There is an unflashy durability to these tracks. The guitars chime without demanding attention, the rhythms stay grounded, and the hooks settle in gradually rather than announcing themselves. There's also of warm tones and textures which made this a very inviting album for my ears.

“Hear The Setting Sun” drops in mid-stride, the full band already in motion. I found it smooth and unexpectedly calming, built on strong vocal phrasing and melodies that glide rather than strain. The title track, “While Away,” feels like a quiet manifesto. I picked up on the nods to The Stone Roses in the guitar work, especially in the crisp, melodic picking that threads through the verses. The hook has an almost disarming wholesomeness to it, the kind that sneaks up on you and lingers longer than expected.

“How Come?” leans into a classic pop sensibility, its spacious hall reverb giving the arrangement a wide, open-air quality. “Still Feel The Rain Come Down” narrows the frame again. The guitar picking sits close to something Sufjan Stevens might explore, but the vocal tone leans more toward a 70s Simon and Garfunkel warmth, with a subtle Americana undercurrent.

“Under The Mountain” shifts the palette with modal touches and a slightly psychedelic haze. It stands apart from what precedes it, but I still enjoyed the detour. “Inside Her Heart” re-centers the album’s core mood, and by the final stretch I was struck by the consistency of the songwriting. “Think Things Over,” “The Night Is Young,” and the closer “Hounds Are All Upon Me” underline Brown’s strength as a craftsman who prioritizes structure and melody over spectacle.
By the end, I was convinced. The vocals are assured, the writing is focused, and the record holds together with quiet conviction. If you have any affection for carefully constructed guitar-driven songs, this one deserves your time.

On Fragmentation, bassist and composer Daren Burns assembles a double quartet that treats improvisation as both method and language. Performing on fretless bass, Burns guides a collective of Southern California improvisers through a set of originals shaped by shifting textures, sudden pivots, and a dry, playful wit.

I hear a group operating with acute awareness, each player carving out space while remaining connected to Burns’ compositional framework. The music feels alert and responsive, grounded in interaction rather than display, and the ensemble’s chemistry gives the record a sense of forward motion even in its most abstract passages.

The album contains sharply defined scenes that emphasize mood as much as structure. “Tips For Musicians When Performing in Bars” drifts through an atmospheric haze that could easily underscore a David Lynch sequence, its uneasy stillness punctuated by strange pockets of motion and shadowy tonal clusters. That tension gives way to the wiry groove of “Bald With a Beard,” whose loose, jam-oriented feel echoes the kind of bands I spent long nights listening to in college, where extended passages and rhythmic looseness created a communal pull. “Phone Zombies” revisits the opener’s unsettled mood with cinematic weight, while “Quiet Chaos” leans into ornamental flourishes and darting phrases that keep the ensemble in constant motion.

As the record progresses, the improvisational core becomes increasingly apparent, yet Burns maintains a strong sense of pacing. “Slipshod Demigod” stood out to me, its Eastern-leaning percussion, dynamic shifts, and 70s soul inflection forming one of the album’s most compelling stretches, where groove and exploration meet without friction. The title track “Fragmentation” embraces unstable timing and fractured phrasing, creating a restless momentum that never fully resolves.

​“Sheep Miscellaneous Soup” pairs tabla textures with Santana-like lead guitar lines, producing a dense, celebratory swirl of rhythm and melody. “Thoughts and Prayers” returns to quicksilver embellishments and tightly coiled interplay, while the closing track “Hurt” could have been a very different version of the original from NIN.

For listeners attuned to improvised free jazz, Fragmentation offers an inviting entry point without softening its edges. The playing is assured, the tonal palette is wide, and the record sustains a sense of curiosity from start to finish. Burns’ writing leaves room for surprise while maintaining a clear identity, and that balance gives the album its staying power, encouraging repeat listens to absorb the finer details that surface over time.

On their third full-length album Mountain, East Nashville quartet Midtones turn their attention to the emotional middle ground, shaping an ambient folk-rock record that lingers in the quiet mechanics of daily life. The album’s premise is simple but resonant: meaning accumulates in the stretches between milestones, in the slow climbs, pauses, and steady forward motion that rarely announce themselves as victories. From the opening moments, I hear a band prioritizing texture and atmosphere, using restrained dynamics and patient arrangements to illuminate the rituals that define ordinary days.

Recorded in Nashville with collaborators including Bernie Chiaravalle and Jeremy Ferguson, the album maintains a close, intimate sound at times while allowing its arrangements to expand when needed. The music points toward persistence as its own form of resolve. The band has a familiar rock sound that sounds somewhere between "indie" rock and more radio ready rock. It hits a frequency not far from the band Doves who made an exceptional album recently. 

The title track “Mountain” opens with piano and a dramatic vocal delivery before widening into a dynamic arrangement that moves between hushed passages and fuller sections. The song brought to mind the expansive, road-worn atmosphere associated with The War on Drugs. It feels like an opener. 

“Won’t Be Long Now” follows with a direct rock pulse that carries an early-2000s indie sensibility in the vein of Arcade Fire, though its structure remains streamlined and accessible. “Simulations” drifts into a hazy, reverb-laced ballad, while “Here We Go Again” continues the album’s measured pacing. I found myself drawn to the slow-moving ambience of “All My Days,” which unfolds with careful restraint.

“Lockstep” stands out for its playful vocal looseness and rhythmic snap, channeling a sharp, dance-leaning energy reminiscent of Franz Ferdinand. This is where the band thrived in my opinion and a song that can fit for almost any occasion. 

“The Shadow Moves” and “Cry” reinforce the album’s steady emotional current, and the closing track “Please Don’t Be The End” arrives with a lo-fi character that feels intentionally subdued, an understated ending that favors reflection over finality.

When Midtones settle into groove-driven passages, I hear a tonal focus and rhythmic clarity that recall the taut interplay associated with Interpol. Those are the best moments on the album in my opinion. Overall, there are some solid songs here from beginning to end. Take a listen!