Ryan Monroe may be a member of Band of Horses, but his solo album A Painting of a Painting on Fire is decidedly not a BoH album. To strengthen that point, the album opens with a Rush-ish rocker so layered, so textured, so loaded that it's almost cluttered. Monroe comes charging out of the gate as though he has something he must get out of his system. So drastic is the departure from what I expected, I actually doublechecked to make sure I was listening to the right album.

It's not until track four, "Turning Over Leaves," that the album turns its own leaf, morphing into something closer to BoH. Here, a few songs in, Monroe seems more comfortable acknowledging his roots and lays out two killer summertime roadtrip songs in a row. "Turning Over Leaves" emulates BoH's style – in fact, it nearly lifts the driving intro of "Dilly" (off the Horses' last effort, Infinite Arms), albeit a few notches slower on the metronome. Still, it's a steady pop song, perfect for whiskey-soaked summer evenings that stretch into fall. "Blame the Daylight,” which follows, continues the country-road ride.

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How does a Seattle boy deal with a debilitating dose of depression and then some newfound creative sparks in Los Angeles? (J./Joshua) Tillman {formerly of the Fleet Foxes} shows a gripping, glistening way how on his debut as Father John Misty, Fear Fun. It involves a lot of reading Beats and bards and bohemian travel writers; writing reams of visions and observations and humiliating admissions; listening to a whole lot of great albums from the later Vietnam era created by PTSD-shaken troubadours; perfervidly working on demos with producer/singwriter comrade Jonathan Wilson, and bringing on board Phil Ek to help mix it. Also: treehouse living with spiders, Canadian Shamans who share a little too much intoxicant, Adderall and weed otherwise, a lot of funerals, fumbling drinks, and novels needing to be written as one lives life like a "You take your chances here, pal" roller coaster.

It's tempting to hang it all on the inspiration of Laurel Canyon, the scene where Wolf Kings of the Hills wither in manses face down in champagne-drenched mink. Tillman ended up there, and it has not only resurrected the creativity of a drummer-loner in a highly successful but probably very hard-to-be-heard-in band, but also given the world a full-length that will make many best-ofs this year (just wait and watch). Besides that, for those who find other bands under the CSNY-dew sparkling umbrella gimmicky and merely lovely at best, Tillman's truly glorious vocals, completely unpredictable lyrics, and joyfully creative multi-layered music is probably going to convert many on the sidelines of this genre.

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