Local Natives‘ sophomore effort, 2013′s Hummingbird, is a more atmospheric and introspective collection of songs in contrast to the band’s effusive 2009 breakthrough debut Gorilla Manor. Perhaps it has something to do with the parting of bassist Andy Hamm, who left the band in 2011. More likely, it is the influence of producer and the National guitarist Aaron Dessner, who also co-wrote some of the songs on Hummingbird. Whatever the reason, gone is the tribal, post-punk influence of their first album’s popular songs like “Sun Hands” and “Camera Talk,” replaced here by the lyrical, dreamy, and long-form majesty of cuts like the piano-driven “Breakers,” and the sparkling, late-afternooon melancholy of “Ceilings.” Which isn’t to say the band sounds completely different, or that these songs are any less infectious. On the contrary, Local Natives still showcase a knack for frenetic, percussive segments and layered vocal harmonies that feature lead singer Taylor Rice‘s evocative croon. There is just a hint of a break-up or unrequited love threaded through the lyrics on Hummingbird that rubs against some of the sweeter melodies here and gives the album a shadowy vibe. On “Ceilings,” Rice opines, “Hold the Summer in your hands, ’till the Summer turns to sand. We were staring at our ceilings thinking of what we’d give to have one more day of sun.” Similarly, tracks like the yearning “Black Balloons” and the angular “Wooly Mammoth” are ruminative, poignant, and moody epics that, while more progressive in feel, still bring to mind Gorilla Manor standouts like “Wide Eyes.” Elsewhere, songs like “Breakers,” and “Mt. Washington” seem to take aesthetic cues from such varied sources as the Beach Boys and Echo and the Bunnymen, proving that the band has no shortage of inspirational material to draw on, hopefully for many albums to come.

At album number 13, Yo La Tengo are an institution unto themselves, having perfected their craft of slow-burning, unassumingly insular indie rock in incremental baby steps since their formation in 1984. Almost three decades of building a language of wistfully melodic guitar rock without becoming redundant is no small feat, and Fade rises to the unique challenge by striking a middle ground between new territory and recalling YLT‘s finest hours. Fade is the first album for the band not recorded with producer Roger Moutenot, who had worked with the group on everything they put to tape since their 1993 breakthrough, Painful. The ten songs here were recorded instead with Chicago scene veteran John McEntire (Tortoise, Sea and Cake, Gastr del Sol, etc.) at his Soma studios, and while his influence on the album isn’t overwhelming, there are touches of his affinity for orchestration, such as the gleaming strings and horn arrangements on album closer “Before We Run” and the distant trombone on “Cornelia and Jane.” Mostly, regardless of production, Fade comes across as almost self-referential before it recalls other reference points, coming closest to the sound and overall feel of their 1997 masterpiece, I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One. The whispery vocals and bed of guitar textures on “Stupid Things” and the extended percussive jamming of “Ohm” definitely seem informed by territory the band was exploring around that era, though the album on a whole lacks any of the spiky rockers that broke up the lush softness on ICHTHBAO. The gentle and romantic wash of sounds that characterizes much of Fade is more in keeping with the band’s chilled-out 2003 album Summer Sun, with graceful exploration of different sounds all reined in before they spin into distortion or clamor. Even the slinky groove and weird wah-wah tones of “Well You Better” are subdued, offering a relatively mellow peak in energy. The album’s lazy, sunshiny demeanor borders on sleepy at times, but those listening closely will pick up on the subtle shifts in instrumentation and colorful production shifts that the band has grown to excel at over the years. The fingerpicked acoustic guitar and harmonium drones of “I’ll Be Around” fade into the spaced-out drum machine pulse of “Two Trains” without spectacle, and the entire album blends in a similar, pleasant way. This fluidity and cohesion is what drives the songs on Fade to stand stronger as a unified mood, and one that grows more satisfying with repeat listens. By this point, Yo La Tengo have developed not just a style, but a voice of their own so distinct that the deeper the details go determines how strong the album can be. Fade is rich with details and grows richer the closer one looks.

Although he’s a bit young to already have a definitive collection, it would seem, West Coast singer and songwriter Brett Dennen has already proved himself to be a songwriter and performer to reckon with, and from his self-released, self-titled debut in 2004, through three albums with Dualtone Records, 2006′s So Much More, 2008′s Hope for the Hopeless, and 2011′s Loverboy, he’s explored themes of love, death, and pain with a high-pitched, frail vocal style that somehow turns fragility into a sunny, mellow vibe that exudes hope even as he tackles some pretty heavy subjects. Add in his frequent use of subtle African-like pop rhythms and one gets an artist who sounds like Neil Young or Nick Drake fronting the Dave Matthews Band, or maybe Jimmy Scott working with a smooth jazz jam band. This set collects key tracks from all of his albums, with three new songs added in, making it the perfect introduction to this odd, fascinating, and definitely singular talent.