In a sense, it’s good to get the first big disappointment of the year out of the way early.

Two weeks ago I was all excitement and joy, looking forward to a year of potential delights. I always write my year-ahead column in the best frame of mind, hopeful and optimistic. I know, deep down, that some (if not many) of the records I find myself looking forward to in the first weeks of January will undoubtedly let me down when they arrive, but I try not to let that dampen my anticipation. I’m looking forward to these things for a reason.

I never expect to be brought down to earth by the first few things I buy during a year, but in retrospect, it’s not necessarily a bad thing when that happens. It gets me on more of an even keel, and lets the year be what it is, instead of the magical mythical thing I’ve built it up to be in my mind. Getting the heavy sighs out up front sets that bar at a more realistic level, and hopefully helps me enjoy (or not enjoy) what’s coming without worrying when the first crushing blow will come.

Or so I keep telling myself, because 2015 is not off to the best start.

The first new record I bought this year was Guster’s Evermotion, and to say I’m let down by this thing would be to understate by miles. I used to love Guster, back when they were a scrappy, strummy pop band from Boston. Their early records all but explode with energy and potential, and their gimmick – using no drums, just hand percussion – set them apart. Lost and Gone Forever is still a fine, fine collection of tunes, and even when they gave up the hand-drums and started using kits in the early 2000s, they still made a splendid piece of work in Keep It Together.

Since then, they’ve seemingly been on a mission to erase whatever personality they once had. Their previous two records found them slipping into some kind of stupor, writing some of the most boring songs in their catalog. Still, I didn’t hate either one of them, and parts of Easy Wonderful seemed to hearken back to their old selves, even if it felt like looking at distant reflections across a great chasm.

But I hate Evermotion. I’ve heard it five times now, looking for something redeeming about it, and I haven’t found much of anything. The band did say they were hoping to become something else completely on this record, a statement that usually fills me with hope and dread in equal measures. It turns out that what they wanted to become was comatose. Evermotion is full of synthesizers and gauzy production, and devoid of any interesting songs. The whole thing sounds blurry and indistinct – a real surprise from producer Richard Swift – and the groove is lazy and lackadaisical from the first notes.

Those first notes belong to “Long Night,” and if you’ve heard it – four and half minutes of the same three chords – you should know that it’s the tone-setter for the whole record. There are a couple of moments on Evermotion I don’t dislike. “Endlessly” has the makings of a pretty good song. There’s a guitar figure in “Lazy Love” that reminds me of The Choir’s “If I Had a Yard.” “Simple Machine” starts off like it’s going to go somewhere, with its skipping beat and synth bass burbles. But every one of these moments is subsumed into the larger sleepy whole. And after “Simple Machine,” there isn’t a single song I like, or even remember.

I guess I still have a lingering, residual attachment to Guster, but with every album they put out, that attachment weakens. The band clearly put a lot of work into this new sound, all keyboard-y and reverbed. It sounds like an Animal Collective record, but without anything interesting happening underneath. Evermotion plays like one long forgettable song, and I find it hard to care much about it. The CD comes in a neat package, one that uses a pull tab to gently ease the disc from the cardboard wallet without scratching it up. That’s the single most interesting thing about Evermotion, the first big disappointment of 2015.

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I’m not going to say that Sleater-Kinney’s No Cities to Love is the second big disappointment of the year. But as jazzed as I was to hear it, the record itself left me with something of a shrug.

No Cities is the first Sleater-Kinney album in 10 years, and of course it has a lot to live up to. S-K is a capital-I Important band, one of the leading lights of the Riot Grrl movement out of the Pacific Northwest in the late ‘90s, and easily one of the best. It has never needed to be said in my house, but Sleater-Kinney showed that the girls could rock just as hard as the boys, if not harder. Corin Tucker is an absolute badass, her guitars slashing and burning beneath her slicing wail of a voice. And though kids probably know Carrie Brownstein more for Portlandia now, her guitar playing has always been tough and no-nonsense. (Check out her other band, Wild Flag, for more proof.)

But after seven records, Sleater-Kinney seemed to have said all they had to say. 2005’s The Woods wasn’t bad, but it was another S-K record, no better or worse than the previous few. And I don’t know what I expected from No Cities except that, but that’s exactly what it is. It’s another 30 minutes of Sleater-Kinney rocking out. There isn’t anything wrong with that, but if you sit through this thinking you’ve heard it all before, well, you kind of have.

That said, No Cities is a fine Sleater-Kinney record. Its 10 songs crash in, rip shit up, and crash out. An abrasive, punky nugget like “Gimme Love” is vintage S-K, and their trademark guitar interplay is all over the title track and “No Anthems,” to name a couple. The energy level never flags, and it’s great to hear this band come back to it after so long away without missing a beat. Listening again right now, I realize I’m probably just being curmudgeonly – the band sounds vital, attacking these new songs with the same explosive power that they’ve always brought to bear.

I’m not sure if No Cities to Love just didn’t live up to the band’s legacy in my mind, or if I’m judging it too harshly. It feels to me like what it probably is – three musicians settling back in after a decade apart, and playing to their strengths. There’s nothing wrong with that, and nothing wrong with No Cities either, unless you were expecting something revelatory. It’s a short record of short songs with bite, played with verve by veterans who sound as eager as newcomers.

“Exhume our idols, bury our friends, we are wild and weary but we won’t give in,” Tucker sings on “Bury Our Friends,” a line that feels like a mission statement. If Sleater-Kinney feel weary on No Cities, they’re not showing it. And now that they’ve got the reunion record out of the way, I’m looking forward to seeing what an older and wiser Sleater-Kinney can do.

* * * * *

I’m also faintly disappointed in the new Decemberists album, but the more I listen, the more I am enjoying what’s here instead of lamenting what isn’t.

The Decemberists may be the most literate indie folk band around, writing songs based in ancient myths (and creating a few new myths of their own). They also used to be one of the most ambitious, as evidenced by the run of releases that began with 2004’s 18-minute epic The Tain and culminated with 2009’s extraordinary rock opera The Hazards of Love. That album, an hour-long tale of magic and deception and talking fauns, was my favorite of that year, and is still my favorite thing this band has given us. Sure, they were in danger of turning into Jethro Tull had they continued down that road, but hell, I like Jethro Tull.

Instead, the band retrenched and simplified. Their last record, The King is Dead, was easily their least ambitious – ten short, elementary folk tunes – and their new one, while a step up, retains that easy-breezy feeling. It’s called What a Terrible World, What a Beautiful World, and its 14 songs are all strummy and placid affairs, most staying around the three-to-five-minute mark. The album is undeniably pretty, and Colin Meloy’s gentle tenor is in fine form, as is his gift for lyrics that make you feel like renewing your library card.

There are plenty of highlights. Opener “The Singer Addresses His Audience” is the funniest thing Meloy has ever written, an exhortation to his fans to roll with the band’s changes. “We’re aware that you cut your hair in the style that our drummer wore in the video,” he sings, before declaring, “We know you built your lives around us, but we had to change some…” “Cavalry Captain” sports a sweeping horn line, “Make You Better” is a memorable bit of folksy-rock, as is “The Wrong Year.” “Till the Water’s All Long Gone” is a lovely low crawl, and the string of short tunes that make up the back half all do their jobs nicely, particularly the bar-ready “Better Not Wake the Baby.”

And the album ends strongly as well. “12/17/12,” written three days after the Sandy Hook School shooting in Newtown, Connecticut, is a fragile acoustic hymn about grief and celebrating life. The song gives the album its title: “And oh my god, what a world you have made here, what a terrible world, what a beautiful world…” Finale “A Beginning Song” is rich and full, Meloy joyously noting the bright light of love that surrounds him and moves him on. The very novelty of a Decemberists album with a happy ending is enough to recommend this.

And I guess I am recommending it. The more I listen, the more satisfied I am with what the band has delivered here, despite its low aspirations. What a Terrible World, What a Beautiful World builds on the barely-there skeleton of the band’s last effort, and hopefully is a sign that they’re going to continue to build back up. While much of this record finds them coasting on their singular sound, there’s enough investment and enough of interest to fill me with hope for the future. In the meantime, this is a perfectly serviceable Decemberists album, neither particularly terrible nor particularly beautiful.

* * * * *

Next week, the first great records of 2015. Yes, they’re real, and yes, they’re spectacular. Follow Tuesday Morning 3 A.M. on Facebook here.

See you in line Tuesday morning.

If you keep track of a number of online reviewers, you’ve probably noticed that I’m usually the last to weigh in on pretty much anything.

The main reason for this is that I like to take my time with music. I usually have strong opinions right away upon first listen, but as often as not those opinions will change with repeated dives through. I maintain that you can tell when I’ve spent the amount of time I want to on something, which is usually a minimum of three listens. This column’s weekly format allows me to do this – I’ve already heard everything I’m reviewing next week, and my job now is to deepen those impressions and come up with cogent criticism. It’s a slower process than I’d like, and certainly slower than our culture of immediacy usually demands.

In keeping with all that, I’m usually the last online critic to post a top 10 list at the end of every year. In fact, I’ve usually read most of the big ones before I start writing mine. This is also about my process, but for a slightly different reason – I don’t want to miss anything. Last year, most of the major lists were out by the first week of December, discounting anything that might come out in the last few weeks of the year. I try to make sure I’ve heard everything a year has to offer before I rank my favorites. It only seems fair.

Now, granted, there’s usually very little risk. Very few important albums are released in the final quarter of the year, and December is ordinarily a no-man’s land. It’s usually safe to just go for it. But last year, something happened that strongly reinforced my decision to wait until the last possible moment, and that something was called Black Messiah.

D’Angelo’s third album came out of nowhere. His last record, the incredible Voodoo, almost predates this column – it was issued in January of 2000, and my copy is an advance promo that I picked up at Face Magazine, my first job out of college. That feels like a lifetime ago to me, so I can only imagine what it feels like to D’Angelo, who has been working on Black Messiah since 2002. In a time when every comeback imaginable is happening before our ears, D’Angelo’s is perhaps the most surprising.

And doubly so given how he chose to release Black Messiah. He confirmed the album’s existence on Dec. 12, sharing first single “Sugah Daddy,” and three days later made it available on iTunes and other digital retailers. In three days, we went from “holy crap, there’s really a new D’Angelo album” to “holy crap, I’m listening to the new D’Angelo album.” It was an incredible testament to our brave new world, especially since D’Angelo reportedly finished the record mere weeks before releasing it. And it clearly threw critics into a tizzy, particularly those who had already declared 10 other records the best of the year.

Because make no mistake, Black Messiah is one of the very best albums of 2014. I knew it when I first heard it, but it’s taken multiple listens over the past few weeks to fully grasp how good it is. Frankly, this is not an immediate record – D’Angelo surprise-released a complex and layered piece of work that takes time to unravel, and in so doing he all but demanded immediate reactions to it. While my first impression was certainly favorable, I’m glad I’ve taken as much time as I have with it. And I expect to take much more time with it in the years to come.

While Black Messiah certainly is the follow-up to Voodoo, it’s very different. Voodoo was a tour de force, and for my money, there hasn’t been an R&B album to rival it since its release. If Black Messiah were consciously trying to match it, there’s no evidence – this new record is looser, weirder and oddly more confident. It’s the kind of record that can only be made after a masterpiece, a record with absolutely nothing to prove. Whether that’s the case or not, D’Angelo certainly sounds like he was completely free on this album to do whatever he wanted.

And what he wanted to do was to go fully analog. Black Messiah is credited to D’Angelo and the Vanguard, and the live band, which includes Questlove on drums and Pino Palladino on bass, gives the whole thing an organic, jammy feel. On first listen, some of these songs can seem like little more than improvised grooves, and it takes time to hear how intricately, how meticulously it is all arranged. Where most modern R&B sounds canned and programmed, Black Messiah sounds marvelously alive.

And where Voodoo was practically a non-stop sex jam, Black Messiah turns its attentions to social issues on several key tracks. In many ways, this is D’Angelo’s What’s Going On, a funky soul record that casts an eye on the state of the world. (The rush release, D’Angelo has said, was in response to unrest in Ferguson, Missouri – he had originally planned to issue it later this year.) Race relations are specifically addressed in “The Charade”: “All we wanted was a chance to talk, ‘stead we only got outlined in chalk, feet have bled a million miles we’ve walked, revealing at the end of the day, the charade…” The bizarre “1000 Deaths,” confidently placed up front on the record, matches lyrics about the horrors of war with a dense, percussive soundscape.

The extraordinary “Till It’s Done,” dedicated to Bishop Desmond Tutu, takes stock of the world: “Clock ticking backwards on things we’ve already built, sons and fathers die, soldiers, daughters killed, question ain’t do we have the resources to rebuild, do we have the will?” And “Prayer” is a cry to the heavens for determination and peace. “Oh you got to pray for redemption, Lord, keep me away from temptation, deliver us from evil and all this confusion around me, give me peace…”

Most of Black Messiah, however, is about love. Opener “Ain’t That Easy” finds D’Angelo layering that high, striking voice atop a Prince-like groove, pleading with his woman not to leave him. (D’Angelo sings all the vocal lines on this record, most of which are in multi-part harmony. His style takes some getting used to, but the arrangements are quite impressive.) “Sugah Daddy” is sparse and bouncy, little more than a circular piano figure over some minimal bass and percussion, and is about exactly what you’d expect it is. But he digs for deeper emotions on the gorgeous, Flamenco-tinged “Really Love” and the phenomenal closing song, “Another Life.”

The snaky, slinky guitars on this record, many of which were played by D’Angelo himself, are wonderful, and never more so than on “Betray My Heart,” my favorite song here. Everything comes together on this one – the jazzy beat, the walking bass line, the soulful organ, and D’Angelo’s marvelous melody and lyric: “Like the breeze that blows in June, I will steady keep you cool, this I swear with all that’s true, I’ll take nothing in place of you…” Oh, and then there are those tasty horns. If there’s an all-time, world-beating classic on this album, this is it.

And perhaps one reason I think so is that “Betray My Heart” is one of the most immediate tunes on offer here, in contrast to more complex pieces like “Prayer” and “1000 Deaths.” Even bloozy interlude “The Door” takes a couple listens to truly unravel. Black Messiah is a confident puzzle, but one that is worth taking the time to get to know. It reveals itself gradually as the work of a true artist, one who redefined his chosen field 14 years ago and has suddenly returned, messiah-like, to put it back on track.

I certainly hadn’t spent enough time with this record at the end of last year (hence the non-committal honorable mention), but now I feel like I know it well enough to say this: if there’s a better R&B record released this year, I will be stunned. Black Messiah is just that good.

* * * * *

Of course, D’Angelo wasn’t the only one to slip new records out in the waning weeks of 2014. I’ve got time and space to talk about two more. (A third, Copeland’s Ixora, will get a review in the coming weeks, once the CD arrives.)

Back in July, I attended the second AudioFeed Festival in Champaign, Illinois, and for the second year in a row, I made several new musical discoveries. The best of those, I said at the time, was Von Strantz – I caught both a solo show by leader and mastermind Jess Strantz and a full-band blowout, and both impressed the hell out of me. At the festival I picked up their EP, Narratives Chapter One, and liked it a great deal.

Now here’s the band’s full-length bow, naturally called Narratives, and it fulfills the promise of the EP and then some. I get the sense that Von Strantz is more of a collective, and can feature any number or combination of musicians alongside Strantz. Narratives is a lush record, with strings and drums and synths and pianos, everything arranged in service of these marvelous little songs, each one getting exactly as much sonic love as it needs.

The focus, as it should be, is on those songs. It’s difficult to sum up just what Von Strantz does, since every song on Narratives has its own distinct identity. Some are poppy, some are folksy, some are down-home epics, and one of them is a bluesy sea shanty. The songs range from glorious declarations of devotion (the lovely “Fields”) to dark examinations of emotional infidelity (“The Line”) to Fiona Apple-esque laments about materialism (“1818”) to simple prayers (the wonderful closer “All I Need”).

And while the lush instrumentation adds to each one of these tunes, Narratives really is a coming-out party for Strantz as a songwriter. She’s one to watch, without a doubt. There is very little about Narratives that betrays the fact that it’s a first album. It was issued as three EPs, but listen to how well the whole thing flows together – the minor-key piano ballad “Something Beautiful” sidles up next to the strummy “Troubled Souls” like it was always meant to. From first note to last, Narratives is a heck of a debut for an unknown band that hopefully won’t be unknown for long.

Hear it and buy it here.

* * * * *

And finally, there is Donnie Vie.

Longtime readers will know that I’m an unabashed, unapologetic fan of Enuff Z’Nuff. Over a dozen records, the band has written more terrific power pop songs than just about any of their contemporaries, and it’s those songs that have kept them going all these years. The music business has not been kind to EZN, and it seems unlikely that leader Donnie Vie will ever get the respect he deserves as a writer. But all you can do is keep on keeping on – Vie and the band parted ways years ago, and on his latest solo record, he’s down to playing almost all the instruments himself, at home. Here’s a guy who deserves to be recording at Abbey Road, and he’s making albums on his laptop.

But that’s OK, because the songs are still there. Vie’s latest is called The White Album, laying his biggest influence bare, and it’s a collection of 19 tracks spanning two discs. True to its inspiration, Vie’s White Album is a bit of a mess – there’s a live cover of “25 or 6 to 4” and a studio cover of “Imagine” shoved in there for no reason, and two of the songs on the second disc are labeled as outtakes. And yes, it sounds a bit cheap, and marred by blatty synthesizers, but that’s nothing new for Vie and EZN. Happily, none of that matters, because The White Album is yet another showcase for Vie’s songwriting, and it never lets him down.

The first disc, in fact, may be the strongest set of 11 songs he’s released under his own name. It opens with a straightforward sex romp called “I Wanna Do It To You,” but Vie’s ambition quickly deepens. “Crash and Burn” is a swell minor-key pop number reminiscent of Bond themes, “Light Shine On” is a delightful Beatlesque romp, and the gorgeous piano ballad “My Love” is a true highlight, both of this record and of Vie’s catalog. The big number here is “Unforsaken,” written, Vie says, at his lowest point. It’s an emotional epic that closes disc one in style.

You might think the second disc is meant as a bonus, but aside from the two covers (the worst of which is “25 or 6 to 4,” with its synth horns), it remains a fine showcase. “Almost Home” is the way power ballads should be written, “Angel Eyes” skips along confidently with a strong “ah-ah” hook, and closer “Freaky Deaky” sends things out on a rollicking note. At the center of all of this is Vie’s voice, as strong as it’s ever been. He still sounds like John Lennon here and there, but after nearly 30 years of making records, to me, he just sounds like Donnie Vie.

At more than 80 minutes, The White Album is a lot to take in, but I’m just glad Donnie Vie is still at it, still creating music. It seems absurd to complain about getting too much of it at once. Yes, I wish the man had a recording budget that matched his talent as a writer and a singer. But as long as he keeps making records – even if he has to strum an acoustic guitar into an old tape deck – I’ll keep buying them.

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Next week, the year truly begins with new ones from Guster, the Decemberists and Sleater-Kinney. Also on tap: the new Punch Brothers and Belle and Sebastian discs. And we’re off. Follow Tuesday Morning 3 A.M. on Facebook here.

See you in line Tuesday morning.

Well, hello there. Nothing like some time apart to make you realize how much you miss someone, is there?

How was your holiday? Mine was quite nice. Drove 1,000 miles to the east coast, got to see some great old friends and meet some great new ones, scored some nifty swag (like the Beatles Anthology DVD set, which I am watching right now), and then drove 1,000 miles back a couple days early, successfully beating a fierce winter storm. I did, sadly, spend most of the next week fighting off a persistent illness, but I still found time to listen to a few important records that snuck out before the end of the year, and I’ll get to those next week. Overall, though, my 2014 ended well, and my 2015 is off to a good start.

So, yeah. 2015. If you’re keeping track, this is the beginning of Year 15 of this silly music column. I was 25 years old when I started it. I’m four decades old now, and I don’t feel any different. So of course, I’m just going to keep doing what I do – 50 or so of these things before the end of the year. I’m immensely grateful for everyone who has come along on any part of this journey. I’ll keep making these until it stops being fun, but with so many great people coming into my life through this column, I don’t see it becoming less fun anytime soon.

The music certainly helps, too. 2014 was a hell of a good year for new releases, so 2015 has a lot to live up to. Still, based on early evidence, I would say 2015 is up for the challenge. It’s early days, of course, but here are 15 reasons (14 records and a movie) to love the coming year.

Sleater-Kinney’s No Cities to Love (January 20)

Yeah, Portlandia is great, but I’m much more excited by Carrie Brownstein’s return to the band that made her name. It’s been a decade since The Woods, which is more than enough time without this trio’s raw, raucous sound. This will probably be the first new album I review this year, and I’m looking forward to it immensely.

Belle and Sebastian’s Girls in Peacetime Want to Dance (January 20)

Every album by this lovely Scottish ensemble is an event in my house. This new one follows up the quite-good Write About Love, and hits in the aftermath of frontman Stuart Murdoch’s film God Help the Girl. They’re on a roll right now, as much as a twee orchestral chamber-pop outfit can be said to be on a roll, and the first single from this hour-plus-long record (“The Cat With the Cream”) promises a buttoned-up, eloquent good time.

Remasters of Jellyfish’s Bellybutton and Spilt Milk (January 20)

Finally! These two records, the only output of California’s amazing collective Jellyfish, are the standard by which modern power-pop is measured. I don’t use the word “perfect” very often, but both of these albums are absolutely perfect. Now, to celebrate Bellybutton’s 25th anniversary (and man, does that make me feel old), Omnivore Records is finally reissuing both in pristine digital form on double-disc sets loaded with bonus material. I look forward to rediscovering these sublime works all over again.

Punch Brothers’ The Phosphorescent Blues (January 27)

No, you’re not imagining things. Yes, Chris Thile is aiming to challenge Robert Pollard for most prolific musician on the planet. Just last year, he reunited with the Watkins siblings in Nickel Creek and gifted us with the awesome A Dotted Line and collaborated with bassist Edgar Meyer on the fittingly titled Bass and Mandolin, and now he’s back with his supernaturally talented combo, redefining bluegrass once again. This time there’s a drummer on board, the wonderful Jay Bellerose, and the shift in sound has me seriously intrigued.

Quiet Company’s Transgressor (February 24)

It’s no secret that Quiet Company’s last effort, the epic We Are All Where We Belong, is one of my favorite records. The follow-up, promised last year but finally arriving next month, looks to be a leaner-and-meaner stab at wider popularity – it will be their first release on a label since tiny Northern Records issued their debut in 2006. Taylor Muse and his merry men have yet to let me down, and the tight, powerful, melodic songs I’ve heard from this keep the streak alive. Hopefully this will be the year that Quiet Company becomes as big as I often mistakenly think they already are.

Modest Mouse’s Strangers to Ourselves (March 3)

It’s been six years since we’ve heard from Isaac Brock and his legendary band, which is a small eternity in the world he inhabits. Johnny Marr’s out of the band, and it remains to be seen how keenly his absence will be felt on Strangers to Ourselves. Given the sheer quality of the band’s last three albums, this one has big shoes to fill. The weight of expectation only makes returns like this more exciting, though, doesn’t it?

Steven Wilson’s Hand. Cannot. Erase. (March 3)

Wilson never goes away long enough to mount a long-awaited return, but that’s no bad thing. The Porcupine Tree and No-Man mastermind issued his third solo album, the tremendous The Raven That Refused to Sing (And Other Stories), two years ago, and now he’s back with a 65-minute concept record about isolation and death. Much of this is apparently written from a female perspective and sung by Israeli vocalist Ninet Tayeb. Everything Wilson does is worth hearing, and this sounds like it’s going to be phenomenal.

Laura Marling’s Short Movie (March 24)

I don’t know when I’m going to stop pointing this out, but Laura Marling is only 24 years old. Already she’s amassed a body of work that would make songwriters twice her age weep with envy. Short Movie is her fifth album, coming on the heels of 2013’s astounding Once I Was an Eagle, and there’s no doubt it will contain more searing, stunning works of honesty, written with a literate perspective that belies her youth. She’s one to watch, for sure.

Sufjan Stevens’ Carrie and Lowell (March 31)

Of everything on this list, I’m probably anticipating this just-announced new record from Sufjan the most. I’ve made no secret of the fact that I think Stevens is the most important new artist of the last 20 years (you heard me, Kanye), and his expansive range is just one reason why. He’s chosen to follow up the mind-blowing The Age of Adz with what appears to be a collection of emotional folk songs, reminiscent of Seven Swans, and to name the album after his mother and stepfather. It all sounds beautiful, and I want to hear it right now.

U2’s Songs of Experience (TBA)

The bad news is, we’re probably going to have to buy this one instead of getting it for free. But everything else is good news – an entire companion album to Songs of Innocence, U2’s finest record in more than 20 years, is on its way. If the second set of songs is as tight, clear-eyed and emotionally resonant as the first, it’ll be a dream for this longtime fan.

Duncan Sheik’s Legerdemain (TBA)

Sheik could easily spend the rest of his life writing successful scores for musicals, or even just coasting on his Spring Awakening laurels. I’m overjoyed that he wants to keep making pop records, because he’s remarkably good at it. Legerdemain will follow up 2009’s Whisper House (itself a set of songs from a musical), and the two songs available from it now uphold Sheik’s long tradition of thoughtful, slowly unfolding folk-pop. Sheik has never disappointed me, and I don’t expect him to start now.

Faith No More’s new album (TBA)

This is not a hoax, not an imaginary story. Faith No More, one of the least likely success stories of all time, has reunited and will be issuing their first record in 18 years. I’m not sold by the first single, the half-written “Motherfucker,” but I’ve yet to meet a Faith no More album I didn’t find at least intriguing. Just for the novelty of hearing Mike Patton scream over this band’s particular sonic stew again, I’m excited.

Joanna Newsom’s new album (TBA)

There’s only one Joanna Newsom, and it’s been a sad five years without her. 2010’s Have One on Me, a sprawling triple record, cemented her place as one of the most original songwriters playing right now, particularly given her chosen instrument, the harp. Newsom’s been working steadily on album number four, and rumor is this is the year we’ll get to hear it.

The Cure’s 4:14 Scream and 4:26 Dream (TBA)

This one’s here to put hopeful thoughts out into the universe, in the hopes that it will respond. It’s been seven years since 4:13 Dream, the reportedly lighter half of a planned double release (and the best Cure album in years), and since then, Robert Smith has talked about the follow-up, 4:14 Scream, as if it’s imminent. He’s also talked about 4:26 Dream, the original double record in its intended form. Speaking personally, I want both, especially if the Cure is dead as a recording entity. Bring it on, Robert.

Star Wars: The Force Awakens (December 18)

In many ways, the single most important thing happening this year. The Star Wars saga grows beyond its creator for the first time, setting the stage for years of new stories, and as much as I love those original films, the idea of a world-building tale that will outlive me makes me kind of giddy. This will be Star Wars for the next generation, and on that note, I’m beyond excited to take my soon-to-be-three-years-old nephew Luke to see this film next Christmas. The first film I vividly remember seeing in the theater is The Empire Strikes Back, when I was three, and I’m hopeful that The Force Awakens will give him the same mind-widening experience.

For right now, that’s my year. There’s more, of course – new records from the Decemberists and the Church and Neal Morse and the Mavericks and Bjork and Death Cab for Cutie and many others I don’t even know about yet. But even without all that, these 15 reasons are enough to keep me going, keep me in wide-eyed anticipation of what’s next.

What is next? Well, next week I’ll be reviewing three records that barely squeaked out before the end of 2014. And after that, I start tackling the new stuff, most likely Sleater-Kinney and Guster. Year 15, folks. Here we go. Thanks for reading.

See you in line Tuesday morning.