Hands up if you thought, one month into the new year, that you’d be pining for the halcyon days of 2016?

I’m exaggerating a little, and I’ll spare you the “it’s already worse than I expected” rhetoric that’s been running through my mind for weeks. But it’s pretty bad out there right now, and while I’m trying to keep my head up, I’m taking more and more solace in music. I’m hoping this column becomes a refuge for me, a few hours a week where I can escape and think about something besides the world falling apart. I predict quite a lot of the music that will find its way into this space this year will have something to say about that world, though, so maybe nowhere is safe.

Anyway, while I’m looking back fondly at last year, this seems to be the perfect week to do something I’ve been meaning to find time for since early December. I spent all of 2016 preparing for it, in a way, and never got around to it. Which is odd, since my year was very much colored by this man and his music. A lot of artists had a good 2016, but in a lot of ways, the artist known as Klayton had the best 2016.

Don’t believe me? This week, Klayton, who records under many names but most prominently Celldweller, released his first album of 2017. It’s the fourth volume of his experimental Transmissions series, and if you stack that up next to the albums he released in 2016, it’s his tenth project in 11 months. And all that follows the November 2015 release of End of an Empire, the epic third Celldweller album, which arrived as a five-CD box set. That’s a ton of music in a short period of time, and Klayton shows no signs of letting up.

So who is this guy? I first heard Klayton when he was going by the name Scott Albert and calling his recording project Circle of Dust. The first Circle of Dust song I heard was actually “Am I in Sync,” recorded for a tribute to relatively unknown genius Steve Taylor. (Yes, the Steve Taylor who rocketed into the public consciousness in 2014 with Goliath, one of my 10 favorite albums that year.) This was 1994, and I was in college, having recently discovered the likes of Nine Inch Nails and Machines of Loving Grace. So I was absolutely primed for new industrial metal sounds.

Circle of Dust delivered that in spades. I have the self-titled Circle of Dust album and the much heavier follow-up, Brainchild, memorized from repeated plays. It was doubly exciting for me having been released into the Christian market, since it pushed at the boundaries of what could be done in that space. Like a lot of bands on R.E.X. Records, Circle of Dust sounded no different from the more mainstream acts, and in fact seemed to thrive on the idea of kicking against those inherent roadblocks with real-world lyrics and shrapnel-sized riffs.

I remember reviewing the final Circle of Dust album, Disengage, for Face Magazine in Maine, and then I lost track. Klayton went on to a short partnership with Criss Angel, of all people, and then for me, he disappeared. Fast forward 10 or 12 years, and I found him again, recording as Celldweller. And to say he’d grown by leaps and bounds would be to understate the situation massively. Where Circle of Dust stuck to one style, for the most part, Celldweller is a crazy melting pot, jumping from electro-pop to metal to ambient to dubstep to soaring balladry. It’s music without boundaries – on End of an Empire, Klayton even mixed in some punk and synthwave.

In 2016, Klayton took time to look both forward and back. He finally got the rights to re-release his Circle of Dust catalog, reclaiming the name for himself. Five of his 2016 projects were these old records, remastered with oodles of bonus material (including new songs and remixes), and packaged in gorgeous sets. And man, did they take me back. There’s no joy in Circle of Dust – it’s all pain and suffering, set to jackhammer guitars and very ‘90s electronic drums – but I was a pretty moody kid, so it all worked for me.

The self-titled album is good, though Klayton is obviously feeling his way. It was released twice, with different track lists, reportedly because Klayton was unhappy with his first stab at it, and the 2016 re-release is a mixture of both. Two songs (“Technological Disguise” and “Senseless Abandon”) from the first release don’t appear here at all, and opener “Exploration” is here only in a brand-new re-recording. Frankly, though, this is the best of all possible worlds, and the most enjoyable version of Circle of Dust out there. The sound is tinny, the guitars far away, the drums clicking and thudding, and the influence of Pretty Hate Machine on much of this is pretty obvious. But it’s a good first effort, and the bonus disc is excellent, containing the first new Circle of Dust song in 18 years, “Neophyte,” and some delightful old cassette demos.

The second album, Brainchild, is where it’s at. This is where Klayton decides to go full-on metal, and in the process comes up with his first classic, “Deviate.” It is by some measure the very best of the old Circle of Dust songs, the one even casual listeners can recall. The rest of Brainchild is good too, albeit much heavier than its predecessor (or its successor). The second disc here contains another new song, the fabulous “Contagion,” as well as that Steve Taylor cover and some revealing live cuts.

The next two could be called side projects – Metamorphosis was a remix album on which Klayton chopped up and processed his own tunes and those of metal band Living Sacrifice, and Argyle Park was a strange offshoot teaming Klayton with someone called Buka. Their one album, Misguided, is pretty fantastic, actually, a mish-mash of styles and lyrics cut with real pain. The re-release of Metamorphosis includes further remixes, and the two discs of bonus material with the new Misguided contain a wealth of goodness.

Finally, there is Disengage, the last of the original Circle of Dust albums. Recorded at a time of great upheaval, when Klayton was rejecting the Christian market altogether, Disengage is a bitter record with an unfinished feel to it. “Waste of Time” and “Mesmerized” are terrific, but there are too many instrumental interludes and remixes to consider this a full final album. The re-release adds two discs of excellent bonus content, including the striking acoustic number “Your Noise,” which fully reveals the bitterness of these sessions. I thoroughly enjoyed a peek behind the curtain at an album that has fascinated me since I first heard it.

In the midst of all this, Klayton continued to give us new music in 2016, under three different names. There were two Celldweller projects: the third volumes of his ongoing Transmissions and Soundtracks for the Voices in My Head series. Transmissions remains some of his most interesting work – mostly instrumental, ambient space music, with beautiful production touches. Soundtracks is more explosive, and for this third volume, Klayton gave us instrumental versions of the fifteen interludes on End of an Empire, as well as five new tracks.

But the two I really want to talk about are the pair of brand-new albums Klayton released near the end of the year. (Yes, after 1,200 words, we finally come to what I really want to talk about!)

First up, Klayton unveiled a new identity: Scandroid. Well, I say unveiled, but he’d been releasing singles as Scandroid for more than a year, priming us for the self-titled album. Scandroid is his ‘80s-inspired synthwave project, set in a sleek retro-futuristic city right out of Blade Runner. If you liked the soundtrack to Stranger Things, you will love this. Scandroid is full of tightly written synth pop and just bursting with vintage sounds. Tunes like “Empty Streets” (one of my very favorite Klayton songs) and the instrumental “Destination Unknown” feel like riding one of those Tron cycles through a glass motorway high above civilization.

I’m honestly a little bit in love with the Scandroid album – it’s definitely my favorite of his 2016 projects, and I’m excited to hear more from him in this guise. The only problem I have with the album is the note-for-note cover of Tears for Fears’ “Shout.” It feels unnecessary, particularly when Klayton’s own material, from the killer “Salvation Code” to the chill closer “Singularity,” is so strong. This one is worth hearing, and I’m hoping for a second album this year.

Finally, Klayton closed the year by fully bringing back Circle of Dust. Machines of Our Disgrace is the first CoD album in 18 years, and amazingly, it recaptures the sound and feel of those old albums while updating them for the 21st century. It’s basically a metal record with electronic drums, taking the aggression of End of an Empire (itself the most aggressive Celldweller album) and amplifying it. The title track is an absolute monster, lurching forward on a thrash beat and a shredding riff, mixed in with the dialogue samples that have been a Circle of Dust trademark.

Machines refuses to let up, too. It’s an hour long, and it rarely pauses for breath. “Humanarchy” is a powerhouse, “alt-Human” a techno-metal beast, “Hive Mind” a mid-tempo winner with a great Nine Inch Nails-ish chorus. “Outside In” is the one moment of respite, a Duran Duran-esque anthem with a lovely melody. But then it’s back to the metal until the final track, an ominous instrumental called “Malacandra.” (This is the third Circle of Dust song named after planets in C.S. Lewis’ space trilogy.) It’s a lovely and fitting way to end not only this wholly unexpected new Circle of Dust album, but Klayton’s remarkably prolific year.

The main result of this year is that Klayton now has three viable musical identities to slip between, and they’re all fantastic. He’s built up a cottage industry around his work, issuing everything on his own label and delivering anything he wants, whenever he wants. There’s no reason for him to slow down at this point, so I’m hoping for another productive year. If this long and winding ode is the first you’ve heard of Klayton and his many projects, get thee to his website and try some out.

Next week, a roundup of new releases, including Elbow, the Flaming Lips and a duets record from Chris Thile and Brad Mehldau. Follow Tuesday Morning 3 A.M. on Facebook at www.facebook.com/tm3am.

See you in line Tuesday morning.

It’s been a hard week.

I expect I’ll have the opportunity to say that a lot over the next four years, and I promise not to take every one of those opportunities. But I’m worn down. I’m angry and sad and feeling helpless. I know there will be plenty to do, plenty of ways to stand up and be heard and make a difference, and I’ll be right there in it. But every day there’s a new reason to despair, to feel like there is a darkness descending on us all.

And so we persevere. And some of us write silly music columns to get through the week. It’s fitting, then, that the first album I have been breathlessly anticipating in 2017 turned out to be about living through difficult times, and what it takes to carry on. It’s no wonder that I’ve responded so well to it, given my frame of mind lately. In fact, I’m about ready to call it 2017’s first great record.

I’m talking about In the Passing Light of Day, the tenth album by Swedish band Pain of Salvation. You may not have heard of this band, but they’ve been one of the mainstays of progressive music for 20 years. They’re led by a golden-voiced savant named Daniel Gildenlow, and as of this album, he’s the only original member of PoS remaining. Pain of Salvation has always been his show, though, a vehicle through which he creates massive concept albums of deeply personal music. And he’s never created anything quite as personal as In the Passing Light of Day.

This is the first new Pain of Salvation album in six years, and if you’re wondering why, Gildenlow lays it out for you in his liner notes: he was hospitalized for months in 2014 with a flesh-eating bacteria threatening his life. During that time he had a hole in his back deep enough to expose his spine, and underwent a series of chemical treatments that eventually sent the bacteria into regression. He’s been recovering since, and looks remarkably thin but much healthier than you’d expect in the photos that accompany the album.

In the Passing Light of Day is all about those four months, and the recovery period after. Gildenlow sums up its theme in his notes: “I did learn a lot. I did not, however, learn that I need to spend more time with my family. I did not learn that I should spend less time in life worrying and stressing. I did not learn that life is precious and that every second of it counts. No, I did not learn these things, simply because I already knew them by heart. We all do. Our priorities do not change in the face of death, they just intensify. We get reminded of them. Suddenly, painfully, honestly, we remember how to live.”

This is an album about remembering how to live. It’s dark and bleak in places, and so honestly and powerfully written that it moved me to tears, particularly the mammoth closing title track. Gildenlow exposes his soul as much as his spine here, and spares us nothing. “I was born in this building,” he begins on the opening track “On a Tuesday.” “It was the first Tuesday I had ever seen. And if I live to see tomorrow it will be my Tuesday number 2,119.” The song sets the scene – most of In the Passing Light of Day takes place in Gildenlow’s hospital bed – and the tone: “Will I change? I honestly can’t say, I have no promises to trade for the lord of come-what may, to provide me with another day, every promise that I make is a promise I might break…”

“Tongue of God” is extraordinarily frank, Gildenlow repeating “I cry in the shower and smile in the bed” while asking God to heal him with a kiss. “Meaningless” finds him calling out connection, sinking into loneliness, while the nine-minute “Full Throttle Tribe” balances details (“I turn the shower tap, turn it all the way up to burn this hole away”) with broader ruminations (“This has been my tribe, my family, this has been my flag and nation, this has been my creed, my legacy, now it’s only me…”) “Reasons” sinks to the bottom, awash in anger and recrimination.

He begins the long crawl back in “Angels of Broken Things”: “Fallen angels spread your wings, fly me across the seas of burning things, pills and needles, tears and stings, fallen angels save me from these things…” He decides he wants to live in the whisper-to-scream “If This is the End,” which slides into the 15-minute title track, possibly the best song Gildenlow has ever written. The passing light of day is our lives, here one second and gone the next, and he starts the song lamenting his own ephemeral nature: “You’re watching me slowly slip away, like the passing light of day.” He relives his regrets: “All those times when I failed you, all those times when I turned on you, I wish that I could take them back… because all those times are still here today, all those moments return today…”

But as the song continues, he’s made new, and it’s beautiful. His fear of death disappears, and his love of life returns: “All that matters is here today, all the thoughts that I think today, every word that we say today, every second alive today.” He ends the album accepting his own mortality: “And though I wish that I could stay, it somehow strangely feels OK, it is what it is, I’ll find my way through this passing light…” The song builds convincingly over its running time, and by the end, Gildenlow is giving it everything he has. The emotional catharsis is palpable.

I haven’t even mentioned yet what this album sounds like, so powerful are its lyrics and themes. It’s always a question – Pain of Salvation began with four very good yet unoriginal progressive metal albums, and then went crazy with Be, one of my favorite records ever. Be is a treatise on God and man, with song titles like “Imago (Homines Partus)” and “Lilium Cruentus (Deus Nova),” and its music aims to be all music, a hundred styles sitting next to one another. From there they embraced rap-metal on Scarsick and gritty ‘70s rock on the double album Road Salt, and went acoustic for Falling Home.

In the Passing Light of Day is billed as a return to their aggressive sound, and that’s partially true. “On a Sunday” begins with jackhammer riffs and explosive drums, and songs like “Reasons” are stripped-down metal. But there’s a lot more going on here, in the catchy vocal samples of “Meaningless” and the piano of “Silent Gold,” and especially in the operatic sweep and emotional power of the title track. This is a big-sounding album, although much of it feels raw and stripped back, and it’s louder than PoS has been in some time. But it’s reductive to call it metal, or even prog-metal. As always, the band adapts to the song, bringing to it whatever it needs, and this new Pain of Salvation is as nimble as the last incarnation.

We’ve seen a lot of final records, written with the knowledge that death is imminent. (The two most recent of note are David Bowie’s Blackstar and Leonard Cohen’s You Want It Darker.) I’m not sure I know of many other near-death albums, ones written at the brink before stepping back from the abyss. In the Passing Light of Day is the best one I can think of, a moving, difficult and ultimately rewarding journey to the edge and back. It’s the year’s first triumph, and just the parable of perseverance I needed. I’ll be listening to it for a long time to come.

Next week, what I wanted to do last week. After that, a roundup of January’s new releases. Follow Tuesday Morning 3 A.M. on Facebook at www.facebook.com/tm3am.

See you in line Tuesday morning.

I like shiny plastic discs.

This isn’t a new development. I’ve been buying physical media for as long as I’ve been buying music. For most of my life, I’ve had no choice – we only had vinyl records and cassettes, and then along came the shiny plastic discs, which I actually resisted for a while. But now we’re in the digital age, with downloadable music available at the click of a mouse, and for the first time last year, streaming emerged as the number-one way people experience music.

I’m saddened by this for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that I want artists to get paid. But I also want to experience music in the best way possible, and for me that means with the full context of packaging and with the best sound quality I can get. CDs are still the best way to do both. In this era of surprise digital releases and instant downloads, I’m happy to wait to have the best experience I can.

What that sometimes means is that I miss the excitement over a new release, and I’m finding lately that the time between a new album hitting the interwebs and the buzz dying down is getting a lot shorter. There are so many new distractions popping up all the time that the collective interest of fandom in any one of those things only lasts a couple days, or a week at most. By the time manufacturing has caught up and my shiny disc is in my hands, that buzz is all but gone.

As an example, I totally missed the excitement over the surprise release of Run the Jewels 3 on Christmas Eve. I’ve never been the biggest fan, but even I almost streamed this thing just so I could join in on the fun. I didn’t do that – I waited for the CD, and I’m glad I did. But at this point no one is asking for my thoughts on Run the Jewels 3. The moment has passed. The zeitgeist has moved on. (For the record, I like it. It’s a non-stop powerhouse of socially relevant anger with some surprising and elaborate production touches. It’s the best Run the Jewels yet.)

I also held out for Kid Cudi’s new one to arrive on CD, which turned into a more agonizing wait than I expected. The release date was pushed back a number of times, so while Cudi fans were shouting about this new record as his best in years, I was trying hard to resist the temptation to listen to the whole thing online. Passion, Pain and Demon Slayin’ finally hit stores last week, and I’m happy to agree with everyone who praised it. It’s prime Cudi, for the first time in a while.

I think some people are surprised that I like Kid Cudi, but he’s never quite what you expect him to be, and I appreciate that. Some of his left turns are more ill-advised than others, particularly his last one, a rap-free double album called Speedin’ Bullet 2 Heaven that sounded like a no-talent grunge band’s home demos from the ‘90s. (He even commissioned Mike Judge to resurrect Beavis and Butthead for several between-song interludes. Seriously, the album is almost impossible to listen to.)

Passion, Pain and Demon Slayin’ puts Cudi back on track with 87 minutes of hazy hip-hop reminiscent of his early Man in the Moon work. Most of these 19 songs (divided into four acts) are slow and patient things, and they feel like waking up after a weekend bender. Cudi gets cosmic as often as he gets earthy here, and there’s a renewed sense of purpose to the whole thing that suits him. Guest spots by Pharrell Williams and Andre 3000 certainly don’t hurt, but it’s Cudi’s singular vision of hip-hop that guides this album. The closing song, the six-minute “Surfin’,” is a delightful release of built-up tension, ending things on a joyous note.

I’ll also say that on CD, this feels like a true double album, with Acts I and II on the first disc and Acts III and IV on the second. There’s a hard break after Act II, an intermission of sorts, during which you have to physically get up and change the disc to hear the second half. It may just be nostalgia, but to me this enhances the experience, and also breaks up what is a very long record into manageable chunks. Thinking of Passion, Pain and Demon Slayin’ in four sides helps to process it.

As much as I like waiting for the CD, though, sometimes I have no choice but to pay for downloaded music. It always feels strange, like I’ve just bought air. Music without context feels unmoored to me, like it doesn’t exist in the world I inhabit. I expect that I’ll be forced to purchase context-free music a lot in the future, and maybe it will start to seem less weird over time. But I doubt it.

However, as I said, sometimes I have no choice. Case in point: Not the Actual Events, the new EP from Nine Inch Nails. I’ve been a Trent Reznor fan for a quarter-century, and I’m always interested to hear what he does next. So I had to buy this EP, but Reznor didn’t make it easy for me. It’s available in two versions – a vinyl edition, or a download with a “physical component.” I have no idea what that “physical component” is or means, but I believe Reznor when he says “the intention of this record is for it to exist in the physical world, just like you.”

So I sprung for it, and I’m interested to see what I get in the mail. What I got immediately was the most interesting 22 minutes of NIN music in ages. Not the Actual Events is an unpleasant piece of work, unsettling in ways Reznor hasn’t been since The Downward Spiral. In fact, the moment when he whispers “yes, everyone seems to be asleep” on “Dear World” provided me with my first NIN-related chill up the spine since those early, heady days.

There are more ideas in these five songs than on all of The Slip and Hesitation Marks combined, as much as I liked both of those records. Reznor and Atticus Ross (his longtime partner in crime, recently welcomed to full band member status) are intent on setting moods this time. Melodies are tricky and buried under oceans of sound, and sung through shiver-inducing filters. Reznor reaches for his baritone on the deep crawl “She’s Gone Away,” and the effect is both exciting and unnerving. And he unleashes full fury on the final track, an abrasive ball of steel wool called “Burning Bright (Field on Fire).”

Nine Inch Nails slipped into a rut so slowly that I barely noticed, and it took something like Not the Actual Events, something that hearkens back to works like Spiral and The Fragile while upending the formula with new twists, to show me just how routine Reznor’s work had become. I’m glad I heard it, even if I had to download it, and I’m now even more excited for the two projects he has on tap for 2017.

And hopefully I’ll be able to buy those on CD.

Next week, either what I was planning for this week or the first new records of the year. Follow Tuesday Morning 3 A.M. on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/tm3am.

See you in line Tuesday morning.

“You’ve redecorated. I don’t like it.” – Patrick Troughton, The Three Doctors.

Hello and welcome to the new Tuesday Morning 3 A.M. You’re looking at the first major upgrade in this column’s appearance and functionality in probably a decade. I’m still getting used to it myself, but I think it’s quite an improvement, while still retaining the column-out-front-archive-in-back feel that I wanted when I started this thing. And those of you who like to read things on your fancy mobile phones should have a much easier time.

For me, not that you should care about this so much, it’s a lot easier. I write, do some light formatting and set it to post. That’s the whole process. You should have seen the HTML hand-coding mess I was working with before. I feel like I’ve stepped into the 2000s, just in time for the 2010s to wind down. As always, many thanks to Michael Ferrier, who put this all together without asking for money or anything. He’s one of my best friends in the world, and this is but one of the millions of reasons I’m grateful for him.

Anyway, we’re back. This is year 17 of this silly music column, and I always start the year off the same way: with a list of things to look forward to over the upcoming months. It’s harder this year. We’re less than two weeks from the dawning of Trump’s America, and it’s not the America I recognize. I feel like we’re seconds from impact, careening off a cliff, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

For me, solace has always come in the form of art, and music especially. That’s why I feel like this list is even more important this year. If nothing else, the fight against evil in 2017 is going to have a good soundtrack. If you need reasons to get out of bed, reasons to keep on keeping on this year, here are 17 of them that I know about. In fact, I didn’t even need to go outside the realm of music this year, so you can just count the next season of Doctor Who and Star Wars: Episode VIII as givens.

1. Pain of Salvation, The Passing Light of Day.

As always, we start with the albums that have names and release dates and are certain to appear. I’m predicting that this new one from Sweden’s unclassifiable Pain of Salvation will be the year’s first great album. It promises a return to their louder, more progressive style, but as it’s also the debut of an almost entirely new band (still led by certified genius Daniel Gildenlow), I imagine it could go anywhere and be anything. Which has been the band’s modus operandi for years. In the Passing Light of Day is out this week, kicking the year off right.

2. The Flaming Lips, Oczy Mlody.

I also have high hopes for the return of the Lips, also slated for this week. They’ve become such a scattered bundle of ideas lately that whenever Wayne Coyne and company get their act together enough to create a solid body of new work, it’s exciting. They’re taking an average of four years between each one these days, but the last two were quite strong, if quite bizarre. Miley Cyrus is on this one, furthering one of the weirdest musical relationships I’m aware of.

3. Chris Thile and Brad Mehldau

Chris Thile is the mandolin genius behind Punch Brothers, and one-third of Nickel Creek. Brad Mehldau is one of the most exciting pianists on the jazz scene, whether he’s playing solo or with his trio. Separately they’re incredible musicians, so this meeting of their minds is a thrilling prospect. Their styles are remarkably different, so I’m interested to hear how they meld what they do into a cohesive whole. The two-disc album contains covers of Elliott Smith and Gillian Welch tunes, too, in case you weren’t excited enough. It’s out Jan. 27.

4. Elbow, Little Fictions.

Is there a more consistent band in the world than Elbow? They’ve staked out their territory, playing slow, patient, glorious art-rock over six previous albums, and this seventh one doesn’t seem like it will change their identity. The first two singles have been classic Elbow, soaring and melancholy, rising on the one-of-a-kind voice of Guy Garvey. History tells me this one’s going to be fantastic. It’s out Feb. 3.

5. Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness, Zombies on Broadway.

Andrew McMahon is the piano-playing songwriter behind Jack’s Mannequin and Something Corporate, and his debut three years ago as Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness saw him stripping back all the grandiose guitars and relying on pianos and keys. It was marvelous, and the three songs I’ve heard so far from this follow-up are equally marvelous. I wish more pop records sounded like McMahon’s. This one hits stores on Feb. 10.

6. Ryan Adams, Prisoner.

Ryan Adams used to be the kind of songwriter who would put out three albums in a year, but it’s been three since we’ve heard a new batch of his songs. (I’m not counting his full-album cover of Taylor Swift’s 1989, good as it was.) Prisoner aims to rectify that with an ‘80s-inspired vibe, and the tracks released so far could have come from a Tom Petty session from 30 years ago. Here’s hoping this is as good as Adams can be when he puts his mind to it. Prisoner is out Feb. 17.

7. Grandaddy, Last Place.

Just the fact that this album exists and we’ll get to hear it soon is exciting. Jason Lytle’s orchestral-indie band broke up 11 years ago, gifting us with a grand finale called Just Like the Fambly Cat. Now we’re on the verge of Grandaddy’s return, and if you remember them fondly, the first single from Last Place should get that tingly feeling on the back of your neck going. The new Grandaddy album (I can’t believe I get to type that phrase) is out on March 3.

8. The Magnetic Fields, 50 Song Memoir.

The last time Stephin Merritt gifted us with dozens of new tunes at once, the result was 69 Love Songs, the album that took his Magnetic Fields to a new level of popularity and respect. This new album follows a similar path, including 50 songs (one for each year of Merritt’s life) over two and a half hours, arranged as an autobiography of sorts. Merritt is one of the wittiest and sharpest songwriters alive, and I’m jazzed to hear him sink his teeth into something huge and significant again. This beast is out March 3, and with Grandaddy out the same day, March 3 gets my vote for most exciting release date of the year right now.

9. The Shins, Heartworms.

This fifth album by New Mexico’s favorite jangle-pop sons was just announced, along with a pre-release single that’s, you know, OK. But I have faith in James Mercer, particularly because the first three Shins albums were so solid. I wasn’t a fan of Port of Morrow, and I’m hopeful that Heartworms, five years in the making, will outdo it in every way. The new Shins is out March 10.

10. The Jesus and Mary Chain, Damage and Joy.

Another reunion I never thought I would live to see. It’s been nearly 20 years since the brothers Reid dropped new music on us, and ten since their seminal noise-rock band reunited, but here we are. Damage and Joy is 14 new songs, led by the pretty good single “Amputation,” and here’s hoping it’s good enough to spark an entire new generation of fans. We’ll see on March 24.

11. Aimee Mann, Mental Illness.

A new Aimee Mann album is always cause for celebration. Mann remains one of the finest songwriters working today, and her ninth was preceded by an anti-Trump song called “Can’t You Tell” that approached our president-elect with more sensitivity than he deserves. Whether the album contains more along these lines is anyone’s guess at this point, but I’m so ready to pony up for another dozen or so Aimee Mann songs, whatever they’re about. Look for it on March 31.

12. A new Choir album and tour

Now we get into things that will most likely come out next year, but have no definite details. Most important to me is news that the Choir is making a new album. They’re perhaps my favorite band in the world, and they’ve been on a hot streak lately, culminating in Shadow Weaver, their 2014 late-career masterpiece. While the new one may or may not come out in 2017, the Choir does plan a tour behind a new remaster of their amazing Wide-Eyed Wonder album from 1989, playing the whole thing from top to bottom, and we’ll get singer/guitarist Derri Daugherty’s new solo album this year as well. Every year’s a good year to be a Choir fan, but this one looks to be something special.

13. Two new Nine Inch Nails albums.

A couple weeks ago Trent Reznor dropped an EP called Not the Actual Events. It’s an unpleasant affair, slinky and unsettling, noisy and uncompromising in ways Nine Inch Nails has not been in a long time. As a palette cleanser for two major new projects this year, it’s a beautiful statement of intent. I’m always on board for new Reznor music, and it sounds like we’re about to get a lot of it.

14. The third Fleet Foxes album.

I know, we’ve been hearing about this for years, but it sounds like it’s actually coming this time. It’s been nearly six years since Robin Pecknold’s spiritual folk band issued their second album, the fantastic Helplessness Blues, and I’ve almost forgotten what a revelation their woodsy harmonies and timeless songwriting were. Almost. I’m ready for more.

15. A new Gorillaz album.

This actually looks like it will happen this year too. Damon Albarn has long been one of the most elusive figures in popular music, taking Blur to the brink of psychedelic noise, taking on strange projects like Monkey and Mali Music, and, with Gorillaz, embracing hip-hop and dance beats while not compromising his odd pop sensibilities. It’s been six years since we’ve heard from his fictional band of miscreants, and that’s too damn long.

16. A new Arcade Fire album.

Speaking of unpredictable, there’s this group. After Reflektor, their dance-pop Talking Heads-esque epic from four years ago, it’s up in the air where Arcade Fire will go next. As always, though, I’m fascinated to find out. It looks like we should be able to hear this thing sometime in spring or summer.

17. U2, Songs of Experience.

And finally, the most tenuous of the lot. Yes, this was on last year’s list, and yes, I honestly expected it then. I hope we get to hear the follow-up to Songs of Innocence sometime in 2017. (Update: It looks like they’re taking more time with it, to address our new Trumpian reality.) I will always be a U2 fan, and hence will always be interested in what they do, but I’m actually giddy for this album since its predecessor (yes, the iTunes album) was the best thing the band had done since Achtung Baby in 1991. Songs of Innocence recaptured an old fire, aiming for sounds that could sit nicely next to their classic work, and if they can retain that fire while moving into more modern waters, it will be a joy to hear.

There’s more, of course – I didn’t even talk about highly anticipated new albums from Beck and Sigur Ros, for instance – but that should do as a starter set. And of course, as the year goes on, I expect many, many more announcements and releases, and hence many, many more reasons to love this year. There are already a few things out that we haven’t discussed, like the surprisingly strong new Kid Cudi album, or the wondrously weary new Bill Mallonee record, or Brian Eno’s new ambient piece. While I expect 2017 to suck beyond measure in so many ways, I’m hopeful that the music will help get us through it. Let’s find out.

Next week, we circle back to an old-school musical monster who had a hell of a 2016.

See you in line Tuesday morning.