Conventional wisdom holds that the Beatles intended Abbey Road as a grand farewell, a suspicion seemingly confirmed by the elegiac note Paul McCartney strikes at the conclusion of its closing suite. It's hard not to interpret "And in the end/the love you take/is equal to the love you make" as a summation not only of Abbey Road but perhaps of the group's entire career, a lovely final sentiment. The truth is perhaps a bit messier than this. The Beatles had tentative plans to move forward after the September 1969 release of Abbey Road, plans that quickly fell apart at the dawn of the new decade, and while the existence of that goal calls into question the intentionality of the album as a finale, it changes not a thing about what a remarkable goodbye the record is. In many ways, Abbey Road stands apart from the rest of the Beatles' catalog, an album that gains considerable strength from its lush, enveloping production -- a recording so luxuriant, it glosses over aesthetic differences between the group's main three songwriters and ties together a series of disconnected unfinished songs into a complete suite. Where Sgt. Pepper pioneered such mind-bending aural techniques, Abbey Road truly seized the possibilities of the studio and, in doing so, pointed the way forward to the album rock era of the 1970s. Many of the studio tricks arrive during that brilliant suite of songs, a sequence that lasts nearly a full side of an album. Here, McCartney's playful eccentricity juts against John Lennon's curdled cynicism, while the band thrills in sudden changes of mood and plays plenty of guitar, culminating in McCartney, Lennon, and George Harrison trading solos on "The End." The depth of sonic detail within "You Never Give Me Your Money" and "She Came in Through the Window" provided ideas for entire subgenres of pop in the '70s, but Abbey Road also contains a handful of the most enduring Beatles songs, each adding a new emotional maturity to their catalog. The subdued boogie of Lennon's "Come Together" contains a sensuality previously unheard in the Beatles -- it's matched by "Because," which may be the best showcase for the group's harmonies -- Harrison's "Something" is a love ballad of unusual sensitivity, and his "Here Comes the Sun" is incandescent, perhaps his purest expression of joy. As good as these individual moments are, what makes Abbey Road transcendent is how the album is so much greater than the sum of its parts. While a single song or segment can be dazzling, having a succession of marvelous, occasionally intertwined moments is not only a marvel but indeed a summation of everything that made the Beatles great.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

From the opening rumble of John Lennon's "Come Together" leading into George Harrison's seductive "Something," Paul McCartney's tuneful doowop ballad "Oh Darling," and Ringo Starr's charmingly goofy "Octopus Garden," (all progressing to the nearly side-long medley that appropriately closes with "And in the end/the love you take/is equal to the love you make") Abbey Road—renowned as the final golden moment in The Beatles’ otherwise unpleasant demise—is arguably the band's masterpiece. The latest in a systematic remixing and reissuing of the Beatles catalog directed by original producer George Martin's son Giles, Abbey Road has been remixed and reissued in various configurations including 5.1 surround and Dolby Atmos to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the album's release. The 96 kHz/24-bit high resolution stereo remix adds space and dynamics to deepen and brighten the original. The allure for those already familiar with the original album are 23 alternate takes and demos meant to shed light on the band's famed creative process. The revelations are subtle but telling. Lennon's wit shows through on a bit of studio patter left into an alternate take of "I Want You" (he responds to a noise complaint from Soho neighbors of Trident Studio with "What are they doing here at this time of night?" and his impassioned vocals on "Come Together (Take 5)," where at the end he can be heard saying "I'm losing my cool," speaks to the enthusiasm that the band had for these sessions. The nearly-there 36th take of "You Never Give Me Your Money," and the 20th takes of "Sun King" and "Mean Mr. Mustard," are examples of how the material evolved and was sharpened in the studio. Conversely, McCartney's piano and plaintive singing on "Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight" (Takes 1-3), a tune whose line, "Once there was a way to get back homeward," often cited as an expression of regret over the band's crumbling—shows how the band sometimes had a concept firmly in mind before the tape began to roll. Although the previously recorded Let It Be would be released six months later (and just a few weeks after the Beatles' break-up), Abbey Road is the sound of the most unique creative force in the history of popular music bidding farewell; those incredibly talented parts become a fabulous whole for the last time. © Robert Baird / Qobuz

Just three weeks after the U.S. release of the Beatles' swan song, Abbey Road, Creed Taylor ushered George Benson into the studio to begin a remarkably successful pop-jazz translation of the record (complete with a parody of the famous cover, showing Benson with guitar crossing an Eastern urban street). It is a lyrical album, with a hint of the mystery and a lot of the cohesive concept of the Beatles' original despite the scrambled order of the tunes. Benson is given some room to stretch out on guitar, sometimes in a bluesy groove, and there are more samples of his honeyed vocals than ever before (oddly, his voice would not be heard again by record-buyers until he signed with Warner Bros.). Don Sebesky's arrangements roam freely from baroque strings to a full-throated big band, and Freddie Hubbard, Sonny Fortune, and Hubert Laws get some worthy solo space. Yet for all its diversity, the record fits together as a whole more tightly than any other George Benson project, thanks to his versatile talents and the miraculous overarching unity of the Beatles' songs. One wonders if the Fab Four liked it, too.© Richard S. Ginell /TiVo

The testament. The final chapter. Abbey Road, released in September 1969, is the last true episode in the discography of The Beatles, with Let It Be (released in May 1970) having actually been recorded previously. A farewell that magnifies the art of composition, melodic mastery and harmonic balance. Once again, the range is wide - whether your talking about the soothing ballads, or more percussive tracks like Come Together. Abbey Road also reminds us that, behind the tutelary tandem of Lennon/McCartney, George (Here Comes The Sun) and Ringo (Octopus's Garden) are not there to simply make up the numbers. This masterpiece, in spite of its huge success, could not prevent the Fab Four from ending their union. The divorce was made official in April 1970. The most influential group of all time ultimately spent just seven years in the studio… ©MZ/Qobuz, Translation/BM

During her 25-year career in the music biz, Kylie Minogue’s ability to re-invent herself and stay current is rivaled only by Madonna’s. Unlike her American counterpart, though, Kylie’s changes never seem desperate, and everything she does exudes a touch of class that makes her shifts seem far more organic. From chirpy teen popper to indie diva to dance-pop heavyweight, every step she’s taken has made perfect sense and in the process, she’s released some of the best pop records of her era. In 2012, as part of her own look back at the highlights of a long and successful career, Kylie and her band went to Abbey Road studios to run through a selection of her biggest hits and best songs. Joined by an array of backing singers and an orchestra, the songs are re-imagined in ways that bring out the underlying emotions behind the glittery pop facades. Stripping the songs down to their basics and then adding strings on top proves to be very effective, especially on “All the Lovers” or “Hand on Your Heart,” and most of the new arrangements are imaginative and sometime inspired. The piano ballad version of “Better the Devil You Know” works very well, as does the sultry trip-hop take on “Slow,” while the strings and vocals on “I Should Be So Lucky” turn the song into a classy '30s musical showstopper. The most interesting reboot takes place on “Can’t Get You Out of My Head” where the insistent strings push the song along with a tightly coiled electricity that is impossible to resist. The only song that really falls flat is the cutesy, Motown-inspired take on “The Locomotion.” Though Kylie may not have the strongest voice around, she has more than enough charm and understated emotional strength to fill the more intimate arrangements with a solid and exceedingly warm center. The album stands as both as a reminder of all the classic pop songs Kylie has released and of her fearless nature. She’s always been willing to take risks, and despite the initial thought that her music may not stand up to the orchestral treatment, The Abbey Road Sessions is another victory in a career full of them.© Tim Sendra /TiVo

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The Black Album is the second collaboration between dub reggae innovator Lee "Scratch" Perry and London-based producer/engineer Daniel Boyle, following 2014's Back on the Controls. Like that album, this one attempts to faithfully re-create the sound of Perry's trailblazing work from the '70s, using strictly analog equipment and instrumentation, as well as live dubbing during the mixing process. While Back on the Controls was a thoroughly successful effort which stood up to Perry's past achievements, The Black Album somehow ends up feeling par for the course. All of the ingredients are in place, from the rich instrumentation (including everything from a hurdy-gurdy to a kete drum, as well as offbeat sounds such as Boyle's baby crying at the beginning of "Mr. Brown in Town") to Perry's free-associative, often self-referential lyrics. Each of the songs are immediately reprised by dub versions, and these indulge in all of the spacy echo and delay effects one would expect, often improving on the originals. Overall, though, the music just doesn't seem quite as pushed to the outer limits as Back on the Controls. The Black Album isn't a major disappointment, but it isn't exceptional, either. © Paul Simpson /TiVo