Is it weird that I’m not super crazy about Mome Vol. 18, the latest edition of the much lauded, arty anthology? It’s an apprehension that goes a bit beyond the typical “it’s an anthology and the level of craft varies” caveat that I gave for recent high-quality anthologies Popgun and Hotwire.

As a music critic, I don’t find Jason Hartley’s Advanced Genius Theory intimidating or insulting. I need to get that out of the way, because that seems to be one of the primary defenses of the theory.

It’s hard to believe it’s been almost 40 years since Graham Nash released his first solo album, Songs for Beginners. Debuting in 1971 while on hiatus from Crosby, Stills & Nash, the album was the first to showcase Nash’s superb songwriting skills front and center, driven by a voice that so easily conveyed a complexity of emotion while retaining a certain innocence.

For the uninitiated, The Sandman tells the story of Dream (aka Morpheus, among his many names), the King of Dreams, a dead ringer for The Cure’s Robert Smith and a character that launched the varied career of writer Neil Gaiman.

Hearing “Save Your Love for Me,” the opening track from Suckers’ debut album, for the first time, one thought in particular will probably strike more than one listener: Hopefully the rest of this album is just as audacious.

The second album from Luke Temple’s Here We Go Magic expands on the sound of his self-titled debut, which created rhythms and melodies from scratch, rotating them around each other in unexpected ways.

Sebastian Krueger, mastermind of Inlets, has toured with My Brightest Diamond and hung with Feist. But on his debut full-length Inter Arbiter, he channels his inner gentleman, creating a sweet orchestral ambient pop soundscape that owes more to Grizzly Bear or DM Stith than his strong-willed female co-workers.

You ever go into reading an archival or archetypical work with the notion that you’re about to discover “what people used to like” or “what qualified as funny way back when?” Well slap me across the face, please—George Herriman’s Krazy & Ignatz is damned funny, regardless of being a product of its era.

In 1989, The Cure turned mope up to 11 for their eighth studio album, Disintegration, creating a landmark, melancholy, synth-filled haze. Now, 21 years later Rhino is reissuing the goth-lite primer. The Robert Smith curated three-disc set includes the original 12-track album, live versions, and rarities—all demonstrating that the West Sussex quartet can still teach the kids a thing or two.