Listening to John Keenan’s “Wreckage of the Past” feels like being handed the audio diary of a ghost who is not yet dead. This is an 18-song excavation of a psyche at war, made all the more intense by the knowledge that Keenan is the sole architect—producer, writer, mixer, and tormented protagonist. The whole project has the hermetically sealed, slightly feverish quality of a...

Owen Young, a mind steeped in the harmonies of law and fine art, unfurls “These Painted Flowers,” an EP blooming with the thorny beauty of the heart after the pandemic. It’s Americana, but not the porch swing kind—more like the kind where you stumble on a forgotten well, and peer in, seeing your reflection ripple back at you with new, confusing angles. These Painted Flowers...