When Mark Lanegan emerged as the singer of the Seattle grunge band Screaming Trees, it was easy to imagine him as a product of his time: bleak, angry, soulful; the shaggy-haired quintessence of ’90s angst. But grunge left, and Lanegan remained, and as the years wore on, it proved clear that the voice he had to offer—gruff, weathered, reflective; the last guy at the bar you went to when the other bars closed—was an adaptable instrument, as applicable to the perfectly poised orchestral pop of his work with Belle and Sebastian’s Isobel Campbell as it was to the terminally stoned hard rock of Queens of the Stone Age. Like Leonard Cohen or Tom Waits, Lanegan, who died in February 2022, steadied himself against a variety of musical backdrops using only the power of his voice—an instrument that bridged the boozy fatalism of Sinatra-era crooners with the anti-singers of punk. Happy, no, but Lanegan was never morbid or dishonest, either. If anything, the performances collected here demonstrate the kind of supernatural resilience you hear in late Billie Holiday: pain, transformed into something momentarily more bearable.