There’s a paradox at the heart of the War on Drugs. For a band so baldly influenced by the freewheeling Americana of Springsteen, Petty, and Dylan, their music can sound strangely tense and stultifying. The most obvious cause is WoD mastermind Adam Granduciel’s reputation as a fastidious studio obsessive. Most War on Drugs songs are rich with detail: layers upon layers of guitar and synth, carefully calibrated vintage effects. But the music, though frequently gorgeous, rarely has room to breathe. Instead, it bellows—Granduciel’s work has increasingly taken on an anthemic, shouting-toward-the-cheap-seats quality.  Andrew Gospe