Mariah Carey has been stung by critical charges that she's all vocal bombast and no subtlety, soul, or shading. Her solution was to make an album in which her celebrated octave-leaping voice would be downplayed and she could demonstrate her ability to sing softly and coolly. Well, she was partly successful; she trimmed the volume on Music Box. Unfortunately, she also cut the energy level; Carey sounds detached on several selections. She scored a couple of huge hits, "Hero" and "Dreamlover," where she did inject some personality and intensity into the leads. Most other times, Carey blended into the background and let the tracks guide her, instead of pushing and exploding through them. It was wise for Carey to display other elements of her approach, but sometimes excessive spirit is preferable to an absence of passion.© Ron Wynn /TiVo

Hagar's Song is a deeply intimate, intuitive offering from saxophonist Charles Lloyd and pianist Jason Moran, who has been a key part of Lloyd's quartet since 2007. The program is a collection of standards and originals, as well as one thorny, angular free improvisation ("Pictogram"). The title piece is a five-part suite dedicated to the memory of Lloyd's great-great grandmother, who spent most of her life as a slave. Its various sections reflect the harshness of that life, as well as moments of hope and determination. This work is not always "comfortable" to listen to, and it's not meant to be, but it is musically rich and emotionally taut. Lloyd has always celebrated his deep love of jazz and pop traditions, and those are in abundance here. The near-symbiotic dialogue the pair share on Billy Strayhorn's "Pretty Girl" and George Gershwin's "Bess You Is My Woman Now" offers both dialogic imagination as well as deep listening. (On the latter, Lloyd reveals how supple his tonal reach remains on the tenor as he nears 75; he sweeps from its middle register to something closer to the alto's.) The swinging read of "Mood Indigo" commences conventionally, but Moran's deft, blues-drenched, physical stride lends an urgency to the conversation. Likewise his punchy approach on Earl Hines' "Rosetta," where Lloyd takes the melody and opens up its joy vein, while Moran pumps it with rhythmic and lyric invention courtesy of his amazing left hand. Lloyd's love of rock and pop has its place here, too. On Bob Dylan's ballad "I Shall Be Released," Moran begins with a single repeating note, then a lone chord, as Lloyd tentatively states the melody. But by the second verse, he's quoting from Leon Russell's "A Song for You," as Moran moves its harmonic base to the modal. Lloyd brings it back via an emotional blues, but his tenor moves through its registers picking bits and pieces of the lyric line to meditate upon and explore with Moran. The closer, a reading of Brian Wilson's "God Only Knows" is just gorgeous. Moran's elaboration on the harmony in the intro sets it up outside its known parameters. Lloyd quotes the refrain and then takes the lyric line, exploring time and memory -- Lloyd ran around with the Beach Boys in Southern California in the late '60s. Satisfied, he turns it over to Moran to finish with a close, tender harmonic statement that whispers to a finish. Hagar's Song finds Lloyd and Moran at their most naturally curious and deeply attentive best, offering a conversation so intimate the listener may occasionally feel she is eavesdropping.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

Reported to be her final album for Atlantic at the time of its release, Charli XCX embraces the idea of being a major-label pop artist to the fullest on Crash. For her, going mainstream is something of a daring move. Her previous album, 2020's Mercury Prize-longlisted how i'm feeling now, was one of her most experimental releases, its heartbroken hyperpop capturing the feeling of bouncing off the walls during the COVID-19 quarantine. That album (and her mixtapes) made a strong case for her more spontaneous releases being among her best, but the craft she applies to Crash isn't overdone. This is truly poptimist pop that consciously reframes the genre's past heyday as worthy of celebrating and updating. XCX grounds the album in the styles of the late '80s and early '90s and the late '90s and early 2000s -- eras when pop was highly produced but also highly creative. It's an aesthetic that suits Charli XCX well, especially on the bright, New Jack-jacking moves of "New Shapes," which features Caroline Polachek and Christine and the Queens, two other experts at giving a fresh context to vintage pop. On "Yuck," a charmingly disgusted rejection of lovey-dovey infatuation, XCX creates the perfect pastiche of late-'80s sounds, but she gets more literal on "Used to Know Me," which samples Robin S.'s 1993 earworm "Show Me Love"; on "Beg for You," a collaboration with Rina Sawayama, she folds in the massive hits "Cry for You" by September and "Don't Cry" by Milk Inc. Putting a boundary-pushing artist like Sawayama on one of Crash's most overtly retro songs feels like a missed opportunity, but "Beg for You"'s pulsing desperation is still a highlight that shows just how baked into pop's collective memory these decades-old songs still are. As she pays homage to pop music's past, XCX also borrows from her own. The way Crash takes inspiration from David Cronenberg's film of the same name echoes how she alluded to Quentin Tarantino's True Romance on her debut album, and the percolating death wish of the title track continues the car motif winding through her work since Icona Pop's "I Love It." The tweaked vocals on the slow-motion ballad "Move Me" recall the Charli highlight "Cross You Out," while "Good Ones" combines the self-defeating heartache that's been a key theme since her early days with the hooky songwriting that she's transformed into hits for others. Among all these revisitations of the past, Crash's concision feels new. On her other albums, XCX occasionally included so many songs that the great songs had to compete with the good ones for attention. At a sleek 33-minutes long, Crash lets songs like "Lightning" -- an unlikely but winning collision of freestyle beats, giddy orchestral synth stabs, and processed vocals -- claim the spotlight they deserve. It may not be quite as striking as how i'm feeling now, but on Crash, Charli XCX once again finds endless freedom in pop's constraints.© Heather Phares /TiVo

After publishing Archives-Vol. 1: The Early Years (1963-1967), an imposing box set of Joni Mitchell's recordings, running to 119 mostly unreleased tracks that date from before her first official record, there now comes a collection of well-made, overdue remasterings of her studio albums. As its title suggests, The Reprise Albums (1968-1971) brings together the first four of these: Song to a Seagull (March 1968), Clouds (May 1969), Ladies of the Canyon (April 1970) and Blue (June 1971). The first four and nothing else! That means that we dispense with the usual alternative takes and other unreleased demos that we would usually find on this kind of reissue: the focus here is on the essentials. And what is essential here is a young woman gradually extracting herself from a folk idiom (the Canadian always hated being labelled a folk-singer) and creating her own language. This is an identity that takes shape from Songs to a Seagull onwards. The young Mitchell even entrusted the former Byrd, David Crosby, with the production of this first effort, which she divided into two sides: I Came to the City which looks towards the city, and Out of the City and Down by the Seaside, which turns towards nature. Joni Mitchell develops these themes with her open tuning, her high, clear, mesmerising voice, and a certain melodic richness. A big drawback to Songs to a Seagull is its original mix, which sounds almost shameful. This error was rectified for the 2021 re-release by sound engineer Matt Lee. “The original mix was atrocious. It sounded like it was recorded under a jello bowl, so I fixed it!” With Clouds, Joni Mitchell ploughs a similar furrow, but with greater harmonic and instrumental richness. The themes she addresses on this second album remain transparent enough, from the personal and introspective (I Don't Know Where I Stand) to the tormented and fearful (The Fiddle and the Drum), but the music has become denser.This feeling will intensify with Ladies of the Canyon, a hit which boosted her reputation. This third album saw the singer transform her folk sound with richer lyrics and increasingly subtle arrangements. Joni Mitchell was achieving unprecedented sophistication and becoming a unique star in the orbit of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, to whom she was still very much attached. Critics and audiences quickly fell in love with all of these quirks. But in spite of her fame she still yearned for freedom, and to get away from the limelight. So after Ladies of the Canyon was recorded, naturally Joni Mitchell wanted to set out travelling.One year later, Blue came out. Her fourth album on Reprise, it proved a cornerstone of her introspective, stripped-down folk sound. For all its lack of artifice and repetitive ingredients, this was a work of peerless grace and depth. A masterpiece conceived as a private journal set to music, it marked a real turning point in the career of the 28-year-old musician. This remaster offers up a definitive version. And that is just one more reason why The Reprise Albums (1968-1971) are totally in-dis-pen-sa-ble! © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

Although the stripped-down, immediate production of She's the One was reminiscent of Wildflowers, Tom Petty's forays into Lindsey Buckingham-inspired pop turned out to be a passing thing, since Echo, his first full-fledged record with the Heartbreakers since 1991's Into the Great Wide Open, is an extension of Wildflowers, at least in terms of sound and feel. The weird thing is, Echo sounds like a sinewy band recording, but its sentiment makes it feel like a solo record. To be blunt, much of Echo feels like a by-product of Petty's divorce from his wife of over 20 years; even the intoxicating hard rock of "Free Girl Now" has a layer of sorrow and regret. That weary melancholy is the bond that keeps Echo together, bridging the gap between the ballads and the rockers, providing an emotional touchstone that makes the record more than just another Petty record. Then again, the music on Echo manages to sound like every other Petty album, yet it stays fresh. Petty, Mike Campbell, and Rick Rubin (along with some help from George Drakoulias) keep the spirit of Wildflowers alive by keeping the production uncluttered, direct, and muscular -- which just reveals what a strong, versatile band the Heartbreakers are. And while there are no surprises, Petty once again delivers an album that works as a whole while having several clear highlights -- which is a pretty neat trick, actually. At times, the disc feels a little long, but all the pieces work individually and illustrate that Petty is the rare rocker who knows how to mature gracefully. Although the album is spiked with sadness and regret, nothing on the album feels forced or self-conscious, either lyrically or musically -- and he is one of the few rockers of his generation that can make such a claim.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

A Few Small Repairs, the proper follow-up to Fat City, was recorded on the heels of Shawn Colvin's divorce. And while the album is certainly a response, she avoids the obvious clichés in dealing with the aftermath, revealing instead the complex thought processes and complete range of human emotion, from anger, sadness, confusion, yearning, and disillusionment to resolve and recovery. Colvin has always been a songwriter of note, but with A Few Small Repairs, she reaches new heights, painting hauntingly vivid images that address not only relationships but also life in general with great insight. The subject matter predictably gives a generally dark mood to the album, but musically, the results are both diverse and irresistibly catchy. A Few Small Repairs marks a reunion with former collaborator/producer John Leventhal, and the two have found a perfect blend between words, music, and tasteful, organic arrangements for Colvin's finest effort to date.© Chris Woodstra /TiVo

Given Alison Krauss' tremendous popularity and her status as the first female bluegrass singer to cross over into genuine pop marketability, and given the fact that her guitarist, Dan Tyminski, is the voice behind "Man of Constant Sorrow" (or at least the version that served as an idée fixe in the blockbuster movie O Brother, Where Art Thou?), a live album was inevitable. That it should be a two-disc set can simply be chalked up to good luck. Unless you're a bluegrass purist, that is, looking for music that preserves the traditional Appalachian sounds of Ralph Stanley and Bill Monroe. Listeners of that mindset will be bitterly disappointed by the presence of modern singer/songwriter fare ("Lucky One," "Let Me Touch You for a While"), by the drums on "Oh, Atlanta," and, most of all, by those dreadful call-and-response vocals on the chorus of "Man of Constant Sorrow" (which, you can hear them sniff, Tyminski takes at about twice the appropriate speed). All of this would explain why bluegrass purists are no fun to be around and, one suspects, don't have very much fun in private either. The simple fact is that every time Krauss opens her mouth to sing, angels stop what they're doing and take notes. There may be no musical pleasure quite as pure and sweet as listening to Krauss sing "Baby, Now That I've Found You" or "When You Say Nothing at All." And when she starts in on the impossibly beautiful gospel tune "Down to the River to Pray," the effect is almost disturbingly moving. Which brings listeners to the problem with this album, which is the amount of time it spends on stuff other than Alison Krauss singing great songs. The instrumental bits, the Jerry Douglas showcases, and Tyminski's requisite rendition of "Man of Constant Sorrow" are all fine, but they end up feeling like filler. Still, this album can be solidly recommended to modern bluegrass fans in general and to Krauss' many fans in particular. © Rick Anderson /TiVo

En 2003, Dizzee Rascal, prodige anglais, devenait prophète du grime avec son album Boy in da Corner, première vague d’un raz-de-marée sonore. Dans un genre qui a été depuis largement revisité, notamment par lui-même, difficile de demeurer pertinent. Mais avec Don’t Take It Personal, Dizzee Rascal parvient à conserver une fougue quasi intacte et opère un grand balayage des musiques électroniques britanniques. La couleur principale est celle des bases. Mais le musicien va piocher dans ses origines nigérianes pour le titre Roll Wit Me, dans la UK drill ou la trap d’Atlanta, se faisant extrêmement convaincant sur ce terrain pourtant éculé, et mise clairement sur le storytelling, sans craindre de prendre position. Dans le genre, ça n’est pas une constante. Don’t Take It Personal est un album très pensé, dont la gestation a, ça s’entend, pris du temps. Il dresse un pont entre le passé et le présent de l’artiste sans faire dans le revival ou la nostalgie. C'est un album ancré en 2024 et dans sa personnalité artistique, à l'équilibre difficile mais qui tient en haleine. © Brice Miclet/Qobuz

"Memory Lane" kicked off the cycle for Old Dominion's fifth album in a familiar fashion: it's cheerful with the faintest hint of a bittersweet undercurrent that expertly dodges any semblance of melancholy. The accompanying Memory Lane EP occupies a similar territory, offering eight songs -- by Old Dominion standards, that's two-thirds of an album, as they rarely go over 12 songs -- that are bright, tuneful, and relaxed, occupying the place where country meets adult contemporary. If the group and producer Shane McAnally don't display any new tricks here, they nevertheless continue to do what they do exceptionally well. They maintain a sunny, mellow vibe and don't skimp on hooks, which means these 24 minutes breeze by without a care.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

In the year of his 90th birthday (which he would have celebrated on the 23rd of September 2020 had he not died in 2004), Ray Charles is honoured with a new 90-track compilation box set. Just another compilation like all the rest? Yes and no. Ray Charles is undoubtedly one of the most-compiled artists in the history of music. Published by Tangerine, the label that the musician set up at the end of the 50s to keep the rights to his songs, this box set starts out like all the others: with the post-Atlantic hits, Georgia On My Mind, Hit The Road Jack, One Mint Julep, Busted... These are timeless treasures of proto-soul, but there doesn't seem to be much novelty here. The rest is much more interesting, and much rarer: tracks recorded between the second half of the 1960s and the 2000s, many of which were only released on vinyl, never reissued on CD and until now unavailable on digital. This is the first time that Ray Charles' lesser-known years have been given the compilation treatment in this way, and it is a revelation. In the 90s and 2000s, the production of his songs had a synthetic feel, and they did not age too well. These rarer songs are often hidden gems of southern soul, flavoured with country and wrapped in sumptuous symphonic orchestrations. Whether he is singing the Muppets (It's Ain't Easy Being Green) or Gershwin (Summertime, a duet with Cleo Laine), Ray Charles is always deeply moving. Now, the dream is to hear reissues of all these albums in their entirety. © Stéphane Deschamps/Qobuz

Surprisingly, very few artists can float a digital-age collection of number one singles without resorting to trickery involving foreign countries or obscure charts. The Beatles had little trouble (The Beatles 1) and Elvis Presley managed both a disc of number ones (Elvis: 30 #1 Hits) and one of number twos (2nd to None), but Michael Jackson bent the rules so far that calling his disc Number Ones is tantamount to consumer fraud. Additionally, a collection of number one singles may not be the best representation of an artist's career; the Elvis volume included nothing from his Sun years, and the Beatles' set skipped "Strawberry Fields Forever." The #1's, Motown's collection of chart-toppers by Diana Ross & the Supremes, fares much better. It benefits from two Supremes characteristics: as a pop group through and through, their biggest hits were often their best songs, and, with the help of the solo Diana Ross, they spent a long time on the charts (nearly 20 years separates the Supremes' debut at the top from Ross' last number one single). While Motown's separate volumes on Diana Ross and the Supremes (in the Ultimate Collection series) remain the best source for a single-disc picture of either act, The #1's works remarkably well. It includes 19 number one pop singles (13 from the group, six from the solo Ross), plus various number ones on the R&B and dance charts, and there aren't any glaring omissions. Granted, fans of early Motown can't live without the girl-group chestnuts "Buttered Popcorn" and "Your Heart Belongs to Me," while those who enjoy latter-day Ross won't find "One More Chance" or "Why Do Fools Fall in Love?" -- but of course, this collection wasn't created with them in mind. For the group who recorded more hit singles during the '60s than any other act except the Beatles, and for one of the reigning solo artists of the '70s, The #1's is a worthy tribute.© John Bush /TiVo

With 1991's You Won't Forget Me, Shirley Horn's star continued to rise. While mostly ballads, this recording also includes swinging takes on "I Just Found Out About Love" and "Foolin' Myself." Toots Thielemans stars with his distinctive harmonica sound on "Beautiful Love" and "Soothe Me," and the unmistakable trumpet of Miles Davis weaves around Horn's vocal on the title track. The opening medley moves from the almost-whispered ballad "The Music That Makes Me Dance," to a funkily midtempo "Come Dance with Me." "Don't Let the Sun Catch You Crying" is absolutely gorgeous, with Wynton Marsalis stepping in to trade phrases with Horn's voice. The music here is mostly taken at a very leisurely tempo, and the spare arrangements allow plenty of room for the music to breathe, proving that less is often more. The only complaint is that such spaciousness generates is a certain sameness to the material, but this is leavened by the guest appearances of Thielemans, Davis, the brothers Marsalis, and tenorman Buck Hill.© Jim Newsom /TiVo