Marshall Crenshaw has always been a bit of a pop-rock preservationist. Whether channeling Buddy Holly’s clarity or building perfect hooks from scratch, he’s never been one to let good songs — or good stories — go to waste. So it tracks that his latest release, From The Hellhole, is part deep-dive compilation, part restoration project, and part legacy time capsule. And the name? That’s no metaphor. Crenshaw recorded most of this 14-track set in his dusty, cluttered, now-defunct home studio - a makeshift barn-lab affectionately dubbed “The Hellhole.”

The collection brings together eleven highlights from a series of six limited-edition EPs released between 2012 and 2016. The records were pressed for Record Store Day in small batches and quickly disappeared from shelves. Once the rights reverted back to him, Crenshaw saw an opportunity not just to reissue the music, but to revisit it. “I started to hear little things (and bigger things) that made me think, ‘I sure wish I had another crack at that one,’” he admits. So he did. Eight of the original EP tracks have been newly remixed and remastered. “They’re their best selves now,” he says simply.

For Crenshaw, who self-produced everything here (credited, jokingly, to “The Staff at The Hellhole”), the release is part reissue, part curation. “It’s about putting the stuff out there for posterity,” he says. “However long that lasts.”

Crenshaw has always blurred the line between tradition and reinvention, and From The Hellhole continues that balancing act. Alongside his own material, including sharp remakes of EP A-sides, he includes a few personal oddities. There’s a dreamy, dub-tinged rendition of the Carpenters’ “(They Long to Be) Close to You,” an earthy take on Todd Rundgren’s “Couldn’t I Just Tell You,” and a spirited cover of Rare Earth’s “I Just Want to Celebrate,” previously unreleased. He even dug up the original demo of his 1991 track “Walkin’ Around" and, unlike some of his early-’90s production choices, it’s aged beautifully.

If the song choices trace Crenshaw’s own creative orbit, the guest list broadens it. There’s Jamie Saft on cosmic Hammond organ, Bryan Carrott on vibraphone, trumpeter Steven Bernstein layering up brass textures, and Jared Michael Nickerson laying down basslines that blur soul, funk, and rock into something entirely its own. “Everybody on the record deserves an individual shout-out,” Crenshaw says. “These are all people I’m glad to know, glad to be able to work with.”

The record doubles as a time capsule of Crenshaw’s DIY ethic. His studio setup, once described as a borderline hoarder’s haven, saw him through much of the 21st century, from solo records to WFUV radio shows. “At one point, I’d maybe run the vacuum once a year, at the end of winter,” he admits. These days, the space is cleaner, more civilized, and no longer living up to its nickname. But the music made there — raw, reflective, lovingly reworked — still carries the grit and charm of its origin.

With From The Hellhole, Crenshaw isn’t chasing nostalgia or polishing up old glories. He’s doing something quieter and rarer. Taking stock, taking control, and making sure the best of his work doesn’t stay buried in the bin.