File under “unfinished business”, I guess. Below, albums from last year I hadn’t gotten around to reviewing, or hadn’t heard yet, or didn’t even know existed until I stumbled across them. (That last category, by the way, turned up a couple of real winners!) Purchase links are included in each artist/title listing; streaming options follow each review.

Mike Campbell and The Dirty Knobs, Vagabonds, Virgins & Misfits: On their third album as a band, the late Tom Petty’s right-hand man Campbell and compadres hit the motherlode. It takes a few tracks for the Dirty Knobs to loosen up, but once the desperate slowburn “Hands Are Tied” achieves rave-up velocity, it’s all gold — Byrdsy stomp “Shake These Bones”, harrowing border narrative “An Innocent Man”, honky-tonk single “Don’t Wait Up” (with country-soul heavyweight/summer tour partner Chris Stapleton kicking in a verse) and trashy addiction kiss-off “My Old Friends” are just the highlights! Guest stars galore, including former Heartbreakers, prove worthy foils for Campbell’s tales of big trouble and occasional triumph, spun out by his sinewy baritone and tasty, twangy guitar. If you’re looking for an album that puts the classic back in classic rock, look no further! I’m calling this a Delayed Favorite.

George Harrison, Living in the Material World (50th Anniversary Edition): While Harrison’s 1973 sophomore solo effort did chart-topping business and garnered positive reviews back in the day, it never quite lodged in public consciousness like his monumental debut All Things Must Pass. Songs that ricocheted between rapt religious devotion (“Give Me Love”, “Don’t Let Me Wait Too Long”), pressurized street-corner sermons (the title track, “The Lord Loves the One”) and sour reflections on post-Fab Four wrangling (“Sue Me, Sue You Blues”, “Try Some, Buy Some”) had a part in this, along with muddy production obscuring inspired, rootsy playing by George, Gary Wright & Nicky Hopkins on keyboards, and – rock solid as ever – Ringo as primary drummer. Paul Hicks’ fresh mix opens up things considerably: George’s breathy vocals are now more passionate than harsh, his acoustic playing shimmers, his slide work bites hard and sweet, and the band chugs along in high style. Now much more approachable, this vivid new version is well worth hearing (available in single, double and super-deluxe configurations).

Herin, Hiding in Plain Sight: Detroit guitarist/songwriter Chris Herin is best known as the mainspring of hard-proggers Tiles (rooted in the music of Rush, with producer Terry Brown and artist Hugh Syme frequently on hand to play up the similarities) for 25 years. Here he goes solo with a deeply personal concept record, chronicling his beloved father’s 10-year struggle with Alzheimer’s disease. Grounding the music in accessible yet expansive AOR, Herin constantly shifts lyrical perspective — now observing dementia’s progress from the outside, now imagining how it played out inside his dad’s head. With Herin’s unswerving rhythm guitar at the center, an starry cast of players and vocalists bring his song cycle to life: highlights include subtle guitar textures from Jethro Tull’s Martin Barre (“The Darkest Hour”) and Alex Lifeson (“Second Ending”), a searing lead playout by Peter Frampton (“The Heart of You”), heart-piercing vocal turns from Porcupine Tree/Steven Wilson sideman Randy McStine (especially “Secret Adversary”) and a trio of dramatic soliloquies by Discipline’s Matthew Parmenter set to chamber music backdrops. Somber yet uplifting in its evocation of loss, pain and undying love, this is a special album.

King Crimson, Red (50th Anniversary Edition): Limping home from the endless highways of America in 1974, Robert Fripp had had it with everything about King Crimson — even the unbeatable rhythm section of John Wetton (who wanted to go for mass appeal a la Dark Side of the Moon) and Bill Bruford (who wanted to hit as many things as possible loud, hard and often). Recorded in a last gasp before Fripp declared the band finished forever (oops), Red somehow gave all three players, plus guests from throughout Crimson’s first run, a unparalleled chance to shine. The uber-heavy title track, the wistful elegy “Fallen Angel”, the stinging clatter of “One More Red Nightmare” unleashed a power trio equally apt at dark romanticism and modernist brutality. And then there was “Starless” – a 13-minute swansong kicked off by Wetton’s most funereal vocal, collapsing in on itself, mounting to peak tension as Bruford slowly rebuilt the beat over a bass/guitar duel worthy of a Shostakovich string quartet, finally exploding into a double-time frenzy of wailing saxes and Fripp’s frantic, fuzzed-up speed-strums. This new 2 CD/2 BluRay version includes multiple fresh and original mixes, six complete concerts from the era, and all the surviving session reels. Overkill at its finest, capturing one of prog’s most ambitious bands going over the top just before Fripp called retreat and abandoned the genre label for good. (As mentioned last month, a Favorite for 45 years.)

The War On Drugs, Live Drugs Again: A second sampling of Adam Granduciel and his live septet making super-sized music to wallow in. Leaning heavily on 2021’s first-rate I Don’t Live Here Anymore, the WoD set one towering, hypnotic groove after another in motion; meanwhile Granduciel’s vocals skip atop the glistering surfaces, burrow between the chiming, interweaving riffs, howl burning desires above his choruses’ climactic maelstroms (pushed even farther by chewy, white-hot guitar tags). Part of the fun for rock history buffs like me is the kaleidoscope of callbacks that flit by, then fade into the aural soup: a Who-like synth cycle, high-impact four-on-the-floor drumming, distortion ramped up to touch the sublime, vocal yelps that channel Dylan, Springsteen, Bono. But the elation, the emotional release of these performances prove Granduciel and The War on Drugs are more than the sum of their wide-eyed, eclectic influences; this album is the closest thing to Elton John’s “solid walls of sound” that I’ve encountered in a long time. (Note that the CD version includes two extra tracks.)

Wilco, Hot Sun Cool Shroud: A EP I missed from the Kings of Indie Dad-Rock, with the impact of an album twice its length; Jeff Tweedy and his long-time partners in chaos hit quick and dirty on six short, sharp tracks. Opener “Hot Sun” is driving yet ambiguous thrash underpinned with regally queasy synth/string pads; “Ice Cream” is a loose soul ballad with distant angel choirs and percussive rumbles; “Annihilation” goes from mumbly to lucid to arrhythmic, while closer “Say You Love Me” is a trademark Wilco eulogy, harnessing stately Beatleisms to preach connection and community. Stir in two instrumentals (the jabbering “Livid” and the bitonal acoustic gallop “Inside the Bell Bones”) and you have another Delayed Favorite. (One, I might add, very reminiscent of the band’s 2004 tour de force A Ghost Is Born, which is reissued in multiple deluxe formats next month.)

— Rick Krueger