Last week I talked about They Might Be Giants, a band that is routinely dismissed as a novelty act despite decades of well-written and serious-minded music. Although they haven’t been around nearly as long, I can see the same thing happening to California’s Tune-Yards, and I hope it doesn’t. Their biggest hit so far, “Water Fountain,” might be a goofy and danceable thing, but to dismiss them as only that would be criminal.

Tune-Yards is Merrill Garbus, a certified wunderkind from Connecticut, and her partner in crime Nate Brenner. Together they make… well, music that’s nearly impossible to describe. I barely know where to begin, so let’s just start with the first track on their excellent new record, I Can Feel You Creep Into My Private Life. The song is called “Heart Attack,” and at first glance, it’s another catchy ditty on par with “Water Fountain.” It begins with dissonant piano, then Garbus’ insidious vocal line: “You’re giving me a heart attack-ack-ack…”

But man, listen to the places this goes. The soulful verses, made up of nothing but percussion and bass. The stunning jazzy chords under Garbus’ wordless vocals. That moment when everything else disappears except a haunting string section, as Garbus sings “I’m only human.” The awesome dance music keyboard lines, leading to a huge crescendo that explodes as Garbus sings “don’t let me lose my soul.” It’s a complete journey in three minutes and 43 seconds, and it’s only the opening salvo.

The whole of Private Life is like this. Much of it will make you move – the bass lines are particularly slinky. But every few seconds, it goes somewhere new, giving your ears little gift-wrapped presents. None of this is empty studio wizardry. The songs come first, and every bit of stunning soundcraft is in service to them. Quite a bit of this reminded me of Esperanza Spalding’s bass-driven, jazz-inflected rock, but with much more electronic goodness sprinkled throughout.

Private Life is also a much darker and more political record than Tune-Yards’ previous efforts. This one seems to have soaked up the thick, depressing atmosphere of 2017, breathing it through its lungs and processing it in only the way Garbus and Brenner can. Take a straight-up masterwork like “Now as Then,” one of several songs about white privilege and its odious effects. “I am exceptional, I am an exception, I am the exception,” Garbus intones over the clattering intro before adding “that’s for me, that’s also for me.” As the music builds, a hundred Merrill Garbuses sing out the chorus: “Don’t trust me that I won’t take all the money and run.” The solo piano that breaks through the din is chilling.

“Colonizer” is darker and even more self-critical. Its opening beat sounds like a factory machine stomping on frogs, but as the nimble bass line kicks in, Garbus sings this: “I use my white woman’s voice to tell stories of travels with African men, I comb my white woman’s hair with a comb made especially for me…” The music becomes as uncomfortable as the words, the whirring percussion and Garbus’ nearly-muted screams take over. After that, you need the full-on beat-crazy chant of “Look at Your Hands,” which serves as a perfect release of tension.

The second half gets even darker, with slower crawls like “Home” and “Hammer” hopefully dispelling any remaining notion that Tune-Yards are purveyors of silly ditties. Even a closing track called “Free” is full of tension, its halfway-jubilant vocal cascade drowned out by an overdriven bass. “I’m alive and seething and I’m coming back for you,” Garbus sings before shouting “Don’t tell me I’m free.” It’s unsettling, like itchy skin, and somehow the perfect conclusion to this tricky, fantastic little record. (As a final grace note, the last few seconds find Garbus counting in the opening of “Heart Attack,” bringing the album full circle.)

I know it’s January, and this is a ridiculous statement, but I Can Feel You Creep Into My Private Life is my favorite album of 2018 so far. Garbus is a one-of-a-kind wizard, and she and Brenner have made their best, most pointed, most powerful record here, one that is as easy to admire as it is to love.

* * * * *

While Tune-Yards keep moving forward, the Shins seem stuck in place. And I don’t just mean because their sixth album is their fifth album all over again.

When James Mercer and his band burst out of the underground in the early 2000s, they were a breath of fresh air. Here was a delightful combination of lo-fi indie-pop and Brian Wilson grandeur, with indelible melodies to match. Even as their budgets grew and their ambitions skyrocketed, they made terrific records. 2007’s Wincing the Night Away is a highly underrated piece of work.

And then Mercer dismissed the entire original band and re-cast the Shins as a one-man show with a rotating cast of assistants, and the bottom fell out. I probably gave Mercer a lot more credit for the early Shins material than I should have, considering how boring his work since has been. His voice is still distinctive and compelling, but his songs have all but evaporated, leaving empty shells of the music he once made. Before revisiting it for this column, I could hardly remember last year’s Heartworms. I again found it typical and lazy.

So why would I be interested in a second version of that same album? I have no idea, but Mercer believes I should be. The Worm’s Heart is a “flipped” re-take of Heartworms – it features all the same songs with new arrangements, sequenced in reverse order. Press materials for the album made it sound like the fast songs had been rendered slow while the slow songs played faster, but there aren’t slow songs and fast songs. The whole album is a mid-tempo mush, and it remains that way on The Worm’s Heart.

Some of the new takes feel like they should be interesting. The title track is given an ‘80s makeover with buzzing synths and harmonies. “Dead Alive” is played with pianos and keyboard strings. “Cherry Hearts,” still the most memorable thing on the album, has a live-band, almost garage-y feel. Country stumble “Mildenhall” is here rendered as an organ-driven bit of rock and roll that is somehow more annoying than the original. My favorite part of Heartworms, the “da-da, da-da” refrain of “Rubber Ballz,” survives intact, here accompanied by acoustic guitar. Obviously a lot of thought has been put into new ways to play these tunes.

But I can’t help but think that all that effort should have been put into writing better songs. I’d care more about The Worm’s Heart if I liked the source material, and this backwards walk through it didn’t deepen my appreciation for it. Instead of a revelatory document, I now have two versions of 11 songs I don’t care about, and two versions of that garish cover. And I’m still hoping that the next Shins release will be better.

* * * * *

That’ll do for this week. Next week, the new Listener, and whatever else strikes me over the next seven days. Follow Tuesday Morning 3 A.M. on Facebook at www.facebook.com/tm3am.

See you in line Tuesday morning.

There are some bands that evoke a place and time in your mind, and you can never quite separate them from those memories. For me, the Cranberries were one of those.

I went to a small college in Maine, and I worked at the radio station. B-91 was unlike any other college radio station I have ever seen – its format was top 40, and it was intended as a proving ground for people studying radio as a career. During regular hours (especially drive time hours), we were only allowed to play songs from a list provided by the station managers, a list that drew from the biggest hits of the day. And we’d play those songs repeatedly, like any other top 40 radio station.

And that’s how I came to hear “Linger” by the Cranberries 10 or 12 times a week for almost my entire second semester of freshman year. There’s nothing I can do now – that song automatically triggers thoughts of snowy treks to the cafeteria and long weekends reading comic books. Since that time, the Irish quartet has been in the back of my mind. I haven’t kept up as well as perhaps I should have – I didn’t know they had an album last year, for instance – but they’ve always been on my radar.

One thing I didn’t realize about them was that they were very close to my age when they hit it big. Dolores O’Riordan, she of the powerful and distinctive voice, was only three years older than me. I know this now because O’Riordan died suddenly a week ago, of causes that have still not been made public, and she was 46. For me it was a sobering reminder of how young 46 truly is, and how we should be grateful for every day.

* * * * *

What a difference a couple weeks makes.

Back on Jan. 9, I published a column called 18 Reasons to Love 2018. I worked with the information that I had at the time, of course, and while I was happy with the result, I have two more weeks of album announcements to draw from now. So here are a bunch more reasons to love 2018.

Start with the return of the Breeders on March 2 with All Nerve. I hinted at this when talking about the Belly reunion – Tanya Donnelly has reignited both of her most famous bands, and we’re getting new records from both within a couple weeks of each other. Belly’s Dove is slated for April 6. March 2 will also give us new ones from ambitious punkers Titus Andronicus and the golden-voiced Tracey Thorn.

A week later, in addition to the Ministry release, we’ll get new things from David Byrne, Editors and Of Montreal, as well as the first of a two-part album called Automata from Between the Buried and Me. I need to catch up on BTBAM’s output, since the first Automata single is a nervy, complex beast, and they’re touring with the Dear Hunter this spring. Speaking of bands I love and will see live soon, Marillion will also give us a five-disc remastered re-release of their 1994 masterpiece Brave.

On March 16 the Decemberists return with I’ll Be Your Girl, and the single piles on the synths, which is an odd move for this folksy band. Yo La Tengo returns on that date as well. One week later we get Jack White’s new solo effort, Boarding House Reach, and believe it or not, the return of Squirrel Nut Zippers with Beasts of Burgundy. I always enjoyed their work, especially as they struggled with staying outside the swing revival in the ‘90s.

What else? The Eels return on April 6 with The Deconstruction. Juliana Hatfield has apparently made an album of Olivia Newton-John covers. Gaz Coombes of Supergrass will give us a solo album called World’s Strongest Man on May 4. And in the craziest news I have heard, Derek Smalls, the bassist for Spinal Tap, is readying a solo album called (get this) Smalls Change (Meditations Upon Ageing). This is really just Harry Shearer having a ball, and I’m excited to hear it.

In the meantime, if you want to hear something that will be available quite soon, check out the new single from the Oh Hellos.  Yes, I did just review their new EP. Yes, this is from a newer one, out on Feb. 6. Life is good. It’s going to be a weird year, but by all indications, a strong one musically.

* * * * *

And hey, I even have some new records to review this week. The 2018 release schedule has begun in earnest, and the pile of discs I have next to me will carry me through this week and next. We’re well and truly underway.

As I mentioned earlier, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club was first out of the gate with Wrong Creatures, their eighth album. If I say this one is of a piece with the other seven, I don’t want you to take that as a criticism. Because it is the sort of thing I am likely to say – BRMC staked out their territory early, drawing from The Jesus and Mary Chain as a primary influence, and haven’t moved too far away from it. But there’s still some gold in them thar hills, so they keep digging.

This time, they’ve focused a bit more on the dark atmosphere than on the blistering rock, and song after song in a creepy, slow tempo can feel weighty after a while. But they’re still the masters of that guitar-echoing-off-an-endless-tunnel sound, and when they bring the big noisy freak-outs, as they do at the end of “Ninth Configuration,” they really bring them.

Still, when the band shakes things up in the final third, they deliver the best stretch of the record. First they step up the rock on “Little Thing Gone Wild,” a no-brainer of a single. Then they take an odd detour to the big top on the oddly frightening waltz “Circus Bazooko,” dive deep into shoegaze on “Carried From the Start” and end things with a gigantic piano anthem called “All Rise.”

The material they fill the first two-thirds of Wrong Creatures with is their stock in trade, and it’s tough to begrudge them a slithering monster like “Haunt.” But I vastly preferred the songs here that stepped outside their comfort zone, and I admire them for taking those steps on their eighth record. BRMC have long made better Jesus and Mary Chain records than the actual Jesus and Mary Chain, and Wrong Creatures is another one. It’s worth hearing.

First out of the gate, though, doesn’t mean best. That honor is split among my next two entries, both of which hit stores this week. They couldn’t be more different, but they’re both excellent.

I say this every time, but it still bothers me that They Might Be Giants are dismissed as some kind of novelty act. John Linnell and John Flansburgh have been writing and playing songs together for more than 35 years, long after any novelty would have worn off, and the just-released I Like Fun is their 20th album. Twentieth. They’re a bona fide classic band at this point, having done only and exactly what they’ve wanted to do for more than three decades. Respect, is what I’m saying.

And if you still need convincing that TMBG is an extraordinary band, even this far into their long career, just spin I Like Fun. The title is ironic – this is one of the darkest TMBG albums ever, but as always, that darkness is wrapped up in devilishly melodic, even jaunty tunes, played with verve with their longtime bandmates, drummer Marty Beller, guitarist Dan Miller and bassist Danny Weinkauf. This is a classic TMBG rock record, with some quirky detours along the way.

Opening song “Let’s Get This Over With” is a classic, driving forward on a bouncing piano line and Linnell’s one-of-a-kind voice. The Johns have always been masters at memorable vocal melodies, and this one’s a doozy. It’s awesome. And of course it sets the tone: we’ll spend the next 45 minutes working through feelings of dread and loneliness and despair in the cleverest ways we can.

Some examples. “By the Time You Get This Note” is a missive from a past civilization to a future one, hoping that all the evils of the world have been taken care of by the time the note is read. Of course, we find out that it’s not our civilization writing the note. We’re reading it, and none of the listed evils are gone. The great “Mrs. Bluebeard” begins like this: “I want to say I learned something valuable today, alas, my murdered remains are incapable of learning anything.” “Push Back the Hands” is, of course, about slowing down time, and it starts this way: “You would give your right arm to go back to when you had a right arm.”

It’s an album in which “The Bright Side” blinds our eyes, we may or may not see the lights come on again, and, in the strange, funny and chilling interlude “The Greatest,” people are relentlessly cruel: “People call me the greatest because I’m not very good, and they’re being sarcastic.” It all leads to the apocalyptic “Last Wave,” perhaps the band’s finest ode to existential despair. The rousing chorus is a singalong, only these are the lyrics: “We die alone, we die afraid, we live in terror, we’re naked and alone.” Did I mention it rocks?

It’s hard to believe I Like Fun is the 20th They Might Be Giants album, especially since there isn’t an ounce of fatigue or sense of obligation to it. It’s another terrific set of songs only this band would write, and the result is among their finest efforts, music to play as the darkness encroaches and the world falls apart.

Swedish duo First Aid Kit hasn’t been around nearly as long – their new one, Ruins, is their fourth. But they’ve certainly made their mark in the ten years they’ve been working. First Aid Kit, a name that belies this group’s otherwise impeccable taste and judgment, consists of sisters Klara and Johanna Soderberg, but even the fact that they’re sisters doesn’t explain the magical way their voices sound together, as if they were born to harmonize with one another.

Every First Aid Kit album has centered those voices and made glorious use of them, and Ruins is no different. In fact, this one isn’t much different from their delightful 2014 effort Stay Gold. It’s a little bigger, and it makes a little more use of the studio (the album was produced by Tucker Martine, who has helmed swell records by the Decemberists, Beth Orton and Neko Case, among others), but for the most part, it’s ten more sad and lovely acoustic folk songs sung by angels.

The Soderbergs do embrace classic country more completely on this record, particularly on tracks like “Postcard,” and their voices bring out the sweet sadness. My favorites here are the more melodically surprising ones, like opener “Rebel Heart” and the superb “My Wild Sweet Love.” I adore the big, crashing choir that comes in at the end of the otherwise Patsy Cline-esque “Hem of Her Dress,” and the sisters end this album with a bona fide epic, the sweeping “Nothing Has to Be True.” It’s here that the classic country leanings perfectly balance out the studio ambitions.

But you won’t care about all that. If you choose to listen to Ruins – and you should – you’ll just be swept away by these lovely songs, and the unearthly beautiful voices singing them. I remain glad that I took a chance on a Swedish act with a funny name all those years ago. Ruins is another delight in what I hope will be a long, long line of them.

That’ll do for this week. Next week, more new stuff with Tune-Yards and the Shins. Follow Tuesday Morning 3 A.M. on Facebook at www.facebook.com/tm3am.

See you in line Tuesday morning.

We’re in that weird part of the new year that still feels like the old year.

New music has started to come out. Black Rebel Motorcycle Club has given us Wrong Creatures, their eighth album, which I will get to next week, and NPR is already offering a first listen to I Like Fun, the swell new They Might Be Giants record. But it’s not enough to really feel like 2018 is in full swing yet. Meanwhile I am still catching up with things from the end of 2017, records that slipped out in the last weeks of December and are still awaiting my attention.

So consider this the last column of 2017, even though you’re reading it in 2018. Keep in mind there are still a couple dozen albums from last year that I bought and didn’t find time to hear, and that this column is not about those. It’s about latecomers, records that made it onto store shelves while I was in my annual top 10 list cycle and couldn’t devote attention to them. Although I am happy to hear recommendations for albums I missed from last year, should you want to send them my way.

We’re going to start with Eminem, just to get it out of the way. Seventeen years ago I called The Marshall Mathers LP the best album of 2000, and it’s a decision that has weighed on me ever since. I’d like to think I’m a different person now, one who would listen to Marshall Mathers’ misogyny and violent fantasies and find them repugnant, not envelope-pushing. Eminem, when he began, was conducting a large-scale experiment on irresponsibility and audience response, gleefully lighting fuses and then dropping cop-outs and wry “who, me?” grins. His early records are dangerous, manically vile things, but crafted with a satirist’s heart and the mind of a lyrical genius.

Since then, I have applauded every step Mathers has taken away from his Slim Shady days and toward becoming a real, honest artist. And over his last two albums, he’s done that. Recovery was his first stab at apologizing for his past mistakes and trying to atone, and The Marshall Mathers LP 2 was unlike any sequel I’ve heard. It was almost a point-for-point rebuttal and update, including an apology to his mother and some genuine emotional moments.

So why do I think Revival, Em’s ninth album, is so bad? I think it’s at least partially because I’m a different person than I was when I became invested in Mathers as an artist. I hear some of his worst qualities come to the fore here, and they’re no different than similar moments on the last two records, but now I find them inexcusable. Mathers addresses his own failures of character and personality on opener “Walk on Water,” and then apparently considers that carte blanche to display them.

Which is a shame, since the best moments of Revival continue his growth as a person, if not as an artist. The opening trilogy finds him grappling with self-doubt, then overcoming it. “Bad Husband” is the rawest and most real admission of guilt he has made to his ex-wife. Several songs detail bad relationships, and whether they are stories or diary entries, the lessons learned from them are made clear.

And the closing trilogy is remarkable, reflecting on his 2007 overdose and the impact it has made on his relationship with his daughter Hailie. “Castle” takes a trip through time, starting with Hailie’s birth and detailing letters he wrote her throughout her life. He dramatizes his own overdose at the song’s end, and then on “Arise” talks about the healing process he’s undergone since then. The ending is a head-turner – he rewinds the tape, literally, and raps the last part of “Castle” again, this time flushing the drugs down the toilet and seizing his second chance at life.

All of that is well worth praising, even if the music is somewhat lackluster. I also can’t fail to mention “Like Home” and “Untouchable,” songs on which Mathers aims his considerable lyrical skill at Donald Trump and systemic racism. His heart is in the right place on these tracks, and their up-front nature should please people who were surprised and elated at his anti-Trump freestyle. But all told, I’ve just described about half the record, and had he stopped there, I would think of Revival as another step in his rehabilitation.

But he didn’t, and the other half of the material sinks the first half like a stone. I won’t go into detail, except to say that Eminem is always at his worst when he thinks he is being funny. “Remind Me” samples “I Love Rock and Roll” for a bit about how he is only interested in a woman because she reminds him of himself. “Framed” brings Slim Shady back for a murder fantasy in which Shady is accused because his lyrics match the crime.

“Heat” includes this choice rhyme, which all but negates his anti-Trump stance from earlier in the record: “Grab you by the (meow), hope it’s not a problem, in fact about the only thing I agree on with Donald is that, so when I put this palm on your cat, don’t snap, it’s supposed to get grabbed, why do you think they call it a snatch?” One track later, on “Offended,” he turns positively childish, concluding a chorus about hoping people are offended at his rhymes with a promise to make them “eat my turds.” (That one has some rape lines that make my stomach turn, too.)

OK, so I did go into detail, but not nearly enough. The tragedy is that Eminem remains one of the most lyrically interesting rappers in the game. (Here’s a line from “Heat” I quite liked: “That’s just the thoroughbred in me, ain’t a better breed, my dog thinks so too, look at my pedigree.” Pedigree, pet agree? You groaned, but you respect it.) On about half of Revival, he harnesses that power for good, and despite some lazy, downbeat music (Ed Sheeran?) and lame sample choices, this material shows how far he’s come. And then on the other half, he proves he’s still a misogynistic jerk, reveling in his least appealing qualities and spitting out shamelessly awful sex and death fantasies. I’ve given him a pass on this material before, but I just can’t anymore.

* * * * *

I spent way more time on that record than I intended to, so I’ll keep the next two short. Which is fine, because the records themselves are pretty short.

I wonder if the people who voted for Esperanza Spalding to receive the Best New Artist Grammy in 2011 knew how right they were. I hope they’ve kept up with her career as she’s driven it down amazing new roads. Spalding was always brilliant – a bass-playing musical prodigy, she understands jazz in ways I never will, and can compose stunning, complex pieces in a number of idioms. But it’s the material post-Grammy that has captivated most, from 2012’s sparking Radio Music Society to the unstoppable power of 2016’s Emily’s D+Evolution. Her early fans probably freaked out a little at the acid metal and power trio rock of that record, but her innate sense of musicality was never absent.

If people freaked at that, I can’t imagine what they thought when Spalding announced Exposure, her latest project. Over 77 hours last year, she composed and recorded her sixth album live on the internet, working feverishly with no breaks. She entered the studio with no concrete ideas, and emerged with ten songs that are remarkably intricate and enjoyable. Yes, you can tell she was up against the clock here and there – two songs have no lyrics, and the last track is a bit of a jam. But Exposure is far better than its origins would suggest, and it shows just how good Spalding is, even under pressure.

My favorites here are, of course, the more complete ones, like “Heaven in Pennies,” which features piano by Robert Glasper, and “I Am Telling You.” Spalding never sings what you expect she will, aiming for notes that shouldn’t work, but do, and ending up with what sounds like deliberately arranged scat singing. Her band is tight, her bass playing extraordinary as always. I even like her sweet little duet with Andrew Bird, “The Ways You Got the Love,” evidently written and recorded in a few hours.

Exposure was only available for a limited time from Spalding’s site, and I ponied up for it. The resulting package is a delight, with a fragment of lyric sheet glued to the front cover (she made 7,777 of these, which means she and her team glued 7,777 fragments of paper to CD wallets) and a second disc of unfinished ideas that arose during the sessions. I don’t know how often I will listen to that second disc, but it provides an interesting insight into Spalding’s process. She’s like no other artist, and I’m happy I jumped in on this experiment.

Texas collective The Oh Hellos are conducting their own experiment, releasing their new songs as a series of EPs. The band remains independent, working for themselves and releasing music to their growing legion of fans. I’m definitely one of them – the brother and sister team of Tyler and Maggie Heath write astoundingly beautiful music, and the musicians they have assembled bring it to sparkling life.

The first of these new EPs is called Notos, and it’s just as good as I was hoping it would be. There are so many perfect little moments in these 21 minutes – my current favorite is when the drums kick over to double time on the previously lilting “Constellations” – and the band never puts a foot wrong. Their harmonies are gorgeous, the string arrangements thick and powerful, the songs compact yet as wide as the sky. I’ve yet to hear a song about our national discourse that puts as fine a point on it as “Torches” does, and yet they deliver it with grace.

If you don’t know the Oh Hellos, well, you’re in good company. But if you’d like to join us, check them out here.

That’s it for this week. Next week, 2018 begins in earnest. Follow Tuesday Morning 3 A.M. on Facebook at www.facebook.com/tm3am.

See you in line Tuesday morning.

Hello! Welcome back!

I hope you all had a great break, and a happy new year. My usual trip back east was relaxing, and even though I was sick in bed for New Year’s Eve, the rest of my vacation was delightful. I’m not quite ready to go back to work, but by the time you read this, I will have gotten over that, because I will have had to. I’ve been spending the last few days of my vacation catching up on reading and listening to records I didn’t get to last year. I missed some pretty good ones.

And of course, I’m spending them writing this, the first new Tuesday Morning 3 A.M. column of the new year. This is year 18 of this silly music column. My own age doesn’t freak me out, but other people’s ages certainly do – my sister is 40, for example, which doesn’t seem possible. The fact that there are 17 years of archived weekly columns I can look at whenever I choose (which is very rarely) means that I’m much older than I feel.

But hey, this column isn’t about feeling down, it’s about looking ahead and finding joy and wonder. I usually begin the year this way, with a list of reasons that the upcoming 12 months will be awesome, music-wise. I never have any trouble making the case, even if I only have the first couple months of confirmed releases and a bunch of rumors to make it. This year is no exception. So without further ado, here are 18 reasons to love 2018.

1. Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, Wrong Creatures (Jan. 12)

The first major release of the year hits in a few days, kicking us off right. BRMC sounds like the Jesus and Mary Chain with an extra helping of biker grease, and I’m very much looking forward to this new one. I should also mention that Jan. 12 sees new ones from Joe Satriani and Ty Tabor, for all you guitar lovers out there, and from indie-rock collective Typhoon. Not a bad way to start.

2. They Might Be Giants, I Like Fun (Jan. 19)

For me, though, this is the real start of the year. They Might Be Giants have consistently plied their unique trade for more than 30 years, and they have carved out a niche of their own. They’ve never been a novelty band, though they are wrongly lumped in with jokesters and pun merchants. Their brand of cleverness is much more askew, much more interesting. I Like Fun is John and John’s 20th, and they’ve celebrated by re-igniting Dial-a-Song, their call-in music service. Long live TMBG.

3. Tune-Yards, I Can Feel You Creep into My Private Life (Jan. 19)

As if that weren’t enough, next week will also bring us the latest from Merrill Garbus, her follow-up to the absolutely killer Nikki Nack. Expect more quirky brilliance from this one-woman show. You can also expect new records from First Aid Kit, Glen Hansard, No Age and (if you like that kind of thing) Fall Out Boy next week, along with one other that deserves its own entry.

4. The Shins, The Worm’s Heart (Jan. 19)

Last one from next week, but this one is so weird. The Shins have reworked their entire 2017 album, Heartworms, flipping each song – the faster ones are now more contemplative, the slower ones more hard-hitting. Heartworms was not a favorite of mine, so if this flipped version makes me appreciate these songs more, I’m all for that.

5. Justin Timberlake, Man of the Woods (Feb. 2)

Finally we’ve moved out of January. JT will kickstart February with this fascinatingly titled new album, his follow-up to the two 20/20 Experience albums from a few years ago. The cover art and track list have me intrigued, and while the first single (“Filthy”) deflated that somewhat, I’m still down for whatever Timberlake does. Man of the Woods. For real, that’s the title. That’s fascinating.

6. Frank Zappa, The Roxy Performances (Feb. 2)

In addition to Timberlake and new things from Field Music and Simple Minds, the second of February will bring this mammoth 7-CD box set containing every show Frank Zappa’s best-ever band performed at the Roxy in December of 1973. Some of this material has seen the light of day before, between Zappa’s 1974 opus Roxy and Elsewhere and the posthumous Roxy by Proxy and Roxy: The Movie releases, but there are literally hours of no doubt amazing performances here, all in one place. It’s worth it just to hear Ruth Underwood play mallet percussion. She’s astounding. This will be worth every penny.

7. Franz Ferdinand, Always Ascending (Feb. 9)

I’m pretty glad that Franz Ferdinand has proven to be a survivor. Alex Kapranos and his comrades have been making danceable rock and roll for nearly 15 years at this point, and they haven’t given us a bad record, including 2015’s once-in-a-lifetime collaboration with Sparks called FFS. This new one evidently works in more electronic soundscapes, which is sort of a cliché at this point in a band’s career, but I have faith.

8. Belle and Sebastian, How to Solve Our Human Problems (Feb. 16)

If you like the digital music that the kids are into, you can hear the first third of Belle and Sebastian’s new album right now. The long-running, venerable Scottish group is issuing their new songs as a trilogy of EPs, one a month from December to February, and collecting them on CD and vinyl on Feb. 16. It’s novel, and I hope it brings them some attention, but the bottom line is we get a new set of tunes from a band that has been at it for more than 20 years, and that’s worth celebrating all by itself.

9. I’m with Her – See You Around (Feb. 16)

On that same day, we get this debut full-length from the trio of Sarah Jarosz, Sara Watkins and Aoife O’Donovan, and if you know your folksy singer-songwriters, you’re salivating over this right now. They’ve been touring for years, but finally we get to hear those voices intertwining over brand new songs. Can. Not. Wait.

10. Ministry – AmeriKKKant (March 9)

At the exact opposite end of the musical spectrum, it’s the return of Al Jourgensen and his flagship industrial metal project. Ministry has died so many times now that it’s almost comical, but of course it was the election and presidency of Donald Trump that brought Uncle Al out of retirement once again. Expect a powerhouse of political rage. I should also mention that March will bring us new records from Andrew W.K., Moby and Titus Andronicus, and that’s just what we know about now.

11. Derri Daugherty, The Color of Dreams (April)

I helped crowd-fund this first proper solo album from the lead singer and guitarist of The Choir last year, and I’m so happy to see it coming to fruition. Derri’s solo album has been a long-running joke among Choir fans – he’s technically been working on solo material for decades – but we’re mere months away from hearing what he’s come up with. And given that he was working on this record while taking care of his ailing (and now deceased) father, I expect some emotional stuff indeed. In a lot of ways, it’s a warm-up for…

12. The Choir, Bloodshot (Summer/Fall)

…the 15th album by Daugherty’s band, one of my favorites of all time. I also helped crowd-fund this, and I’m beyond pleased to play a small part in the surprising and gratifying longevity of one of the best bands on the planet. The Choir creates widescreen atmospheric rock, and with their last few records they’ve been on a serious roll. I’m extremely excited to hear what they’ve come up with, and to (hopefully) see them live again.

13. Belly, Dove (April 6)

Twenty-three years after their second album, Tanya Donnelly has reunited Belly to round out the trilogy. This comes along with news that her other band, the Breeders, will release new music in 2018 as well. It’s starting to feel like the ‘90s are back forever, and I’m glad Donnelly is getting in on the action. Quite looking forward to new music from her in the new year.

14. New records from Tool and A Perfect Circle

We’re in rumor territory now, but these are some pretty strong rumors. Maynard James Keenan’s two bands have been gearing up to release new stuff for a while now, with A Perfect Circle first out of the gate with two new songs and a tour announcement, which means an album shouldn’t be too far behind. Tool is another story, of course, but they’ve been working on their (believe it or not, only) fifth album for years now, and the buzz is that it’s close to completion. Will we see it in 2018? Who knows? I hope so, though.

15. A new My Bloody Valentine album

Another strong rumor, since Kevin Shields says there will definitely be a new MBV record in 2018. Of course, Shields says a lot of things, but since he actually came through in 2013 with the follow-up to Loveless, he has a lot more credibility. And given how good that follow-up actually was, I have high hopes for the new one. Shields has proven that he can continue My Bloody Valentine beyond the iconic Loveless, and continue to reinvent his sound in the process.

16. Bryan Scary’s Birds

Bryan Scary is a genius. His work has never been anything less than jaw-dropping, whether he’s going it alone (as on the awesome Daffy’s Elixir) or playing as part of a team (as on all five stunning Evil Arrows EPs). That’s the main reason I’m still being as patient as possible as this project wends its way toward the three-year anniversary of its crowd-funding campaign. I have no doubt that when Birds finally comes out, it will be worth every minute of the wait. Here’s hoping the wait ends in 2018.

17. A new Sleep album

I know this is happening, but I still feel like I need to will it into existence. Sleep was and forever will be the finest stoner metal band to walk the earth. It’s been almost 20 years since Dopesmoker, their 63-minute single-track magnum opus, still the greatest stoner metal song ever recorded. It’s been two and a half years since “The Clarity,” the first new Sleep song since Dopesmoker. I know there’s a new High on Fire coming, and Matt Pike is probably busy. But I hope this year brings us more Sleep. They’re the best there is at what they do.

18. Jodie Whittaker as the Doctor

Not music, but I’m beyond jazzed to see Jodie Whittaker take up the mantle of the world’s most famous Time Lord this fall. I’m still not quite ready to let Peter Capaldi go – he was amazing in the role, growing and changing over three seasons into the kindest of Doctors, and he bid goodbye at Christmas with a strange little epilogue of a special. It was so anticlimactic that it still doesn’t feel like he’s gone. But at the end we got our first glimpse of Whittaker, who already feels like she owns the role. My reservations about Season 11 are all about the writing team, led by Chris Chibnall, whose Who work hasn’t been of particularly high quality. But I have no such reservations about Whittaker, a top-notch actor with an obvious enthusiasm and reverence for the role. We’ve only heard her say two words (“Aw, brilliant”), and already I’m impatient for her era to begin. In the words of a former incarnation, she’s going to be fantastic.

There’s plenty more where these came from, of course, so if I missed something you are anticipating, never fear. I probably know about it, and if not, please feel free to tell me. It’s gonna be a good year, and I’d be ever so grateful if you’d spend part of it with me, talking about the music we love. It’s one way that we’re going to shine a light in the darkness.

Year 18. Here we go. Follow Tuesday Morning 3 A.M. on Facebook at www.facebook.com/tm3am.

See you in line Tuesday morning.