Who's Next is not an album lacking for reissues. In addition to a deluxe edition from 2003, there have also been multiple audiophile editions and remasters of the album since its 1971 release. So what could a "super deluxe edition" possibly contain? Quite a bit, as it turns out. As even casual Who fans know, the genesis of Who's Next was as Lifehouse, a multimedia rock opera even more ambitious than Tommy. Pete Townshend had developed a bizarre, dystopian story that somehow merged his devotion to Indian guru Meher Baba, his recent fascination with synthesizers, and the idea that the only thing that could save humanity from a test-tube-bound future was "real rock 'n' roll." Yeah, the aftereffects of the '60s were wild. After some live shows at the Young Vic in London and a series of marathon recording sessions, a 16-song tracklist was finalized, but by this point, it was collectively decided—both creatively and commercially—that perhaps another concept-dense double album might not be the best studio follow-up to Tommy. So, eight Lifehouse songs were re-cut and one new song ("My Wife") was recorded and the leaner, meaner Who's Next was released in August 1971. The album was both an instant success and has become an undisputed part of the classic rock canon, thanks to the inclusion of absolutely iconic tracks like "Won't Get Fooled Again," "Baba O'Riley," and "Behind Blue Eyes."While one could make an argument that the taut and focused power of Who's Next inadvertently proved the point of the Lifehouse story (namely, that rock 'n' roll is most effective when it's at its most primal), it's important to remember that Who's Next was also a giant artistic leap forward for the Who, as it found them at the peak of their powers as a pummeling rock band and as a band willing to be experimental and artful in their approach to being a pummeling rock band. (If any evidence is needed of the group's unrivaled power, check out take 13 of "Won't Get Fooled Again" on this set, which is so immediate and electric that it could easily be mistaken for a concert performance.) While several Lifehouse tracks found their way to other Who and Townshend records, getting a sense of the contours of the project has been difficult. But this massive, 155-track set creates those lines thanks to the inclusion of multiple Townshend demos as well as recording sessions of Life House tracks that occurred both before and after the release of Who's Next, and, most notably, two freshly mixed live shows from 1971 (including one of the Young Vic shows) that provided both the energy and, in some cases the basic tracks, for the album versions. While nothing on this bursting-at-the-seams edition overrides the all-killer-no-filler approach of Who's Next, it does provide plenty of long-desired context and documentation for what made that record so powerful. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

Fleetwood Mac's 1980 double-album Live was released as a way for the physically, emotionally, and creatively exhausted group to continue the winning streak that saw them dominate the last half of the '70s with Fleetwood Mac, Rumours, and Tusk. The band recorded audio and video at every one of the 112 (!) dates they played between October 1979 and September 1980 and then proceeded to put together an album that putatively represented a Tusk tour date. In that regard, Live was perhaps the apotheosis of the Frankenstein-ed "live" album. The 2-LP set didn't just combine recordings from multiple dates on the Tusk tour ... it pulled in songs from multiple tours to present a weird, idealized version of "a Fleetwood Mac concert." The original release threw in a few cuts from the Rumours tour, a song originally released by Buckingham Nicks ("Don't Let Me Down Again") that the Mac performed on tour in 1975, and even a couple of studio rarities ("Fireflies" and a cover of the Beach Boys' "Farmer's Daughter"). However the album may fail as an accurate piece of documentary audio it more than succeeds as a cohesive piece of rock 'n' roll. While some tracks do occasionally suffer a bit from the vagaries of live performance—a cracked voice here, a late guitar melody there—thanks to the embarrassment of riches in their song pool and given that the band was at the peak of their powers, the selection of their best individual performances yielded excellent results, and nearly all of the tracks bristle with energy, vibrancy, and a sense of creative electricity that was surely a bit of a crapshoot on such a long and grueling tour. And, in some cases—"Over and Over" and "Never Going Back Again" especially—the live versions captured here are actually superior to the studio takes, gaining an intensity and immediacy that accentuates their inherent drama. This new edition continues in the original's tradition, tacking on a third disc of live rarities that's similarly wide-ranging, including tracks recorded on the Mirage tour which happened two years after Live was originally released. While those extras feel (obviously) tacked on—more than an encore, but less than a standalone show—they also lack the flowing context of the main album and feel far more disjointed in their presentation. Nonetheless, getting to hear the Rumours band take on "The Green Manalishi (With The Two-Pronged Crown)" at the Oklahoma City State Fair Arena in 1977 or a transcendent version of "Songbird" from the tail end of the Tusk tour in Arkansas is still quite thrilling. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

The major-label full-length debut from California's Oliver Tree, 2020's Ugly Is Beautiful proves another showcase for the ironic bowl-cut and JNCO jean-wearing singer's bombastically hooky brand of pop. The album arrives on the heels of several buzzed-about EPs and Ugly Is Beautiful builds nicely upon those albums, juxtaposing catchy, '90s-style pop arrangements with vocals that seem at once cheeky and sincere. Mixing blown-out keyboards with distorted guitars, heavy basslines, and pounding beats, Tree has crafted a distinctively zoomer aesthetic, mixing a hot stew of influences from Nirvana and the Strokes to Eminem, Pixies, and sundry SoundCloud rap touchstones. It's a style that remains remarkably consistent even as he shifts gears, from the driving post-punk of "Me Myself & I" and the Beck-esque acoustic grunge of "Cash Machine" to the moody, synth-heavy club jam "1993." As Tree sings on "Alien Boy," "I fell down to Earth from a hundred miles away/And somehow I still make it work."© Matt Collar /TiVo

Turning her back on the different schools of jazz, French singer Cyrille Aimée made the decision very early on to head off for the US, spending over ten years in the raw and unadulterated school of jam sessions from Brooklyn to New Orleans. After thoroughly exploring the repertoire of the American Songbook and distinguishing herself as a performer, applying a timbre of great freshness and true vocal dexterity to a taste for improvisation that happens to be quite rare for vocalists, Cyrille Aimée has spent the past few years venturing off toward less traditional horizons, be it in dedicating the entirety of an album to the sophisticated world of Stephen Sondheim, or in paying homage to the music of New Orleans (Petite Fleur, with the New Orleans Jazz Orchestra).As her 40th birthday approaches, she has released A fleur de peau, which is undoubtedly her most personal record to date. Developed in close collaboration with New York producer and multi-instrumentalist Jake Sherman, this album has the particularity of consisting of, for the first time in her career, original compositions in which Cyrille Aimée reveals her true nature. Juggling between languages (English, Spanish, French) as well as musical styles, finding inspiration in her mother’s Dominican roots with languid, pulsating Afro-Latino melodies and rhythms (“Historia de Amor”), as well as in English-language pop music (“Here”), French chanson (“Ma Préférence”), and 80’s soul (the Isley Brothers cover “For the Love of You”), Cyrille Aimée plunges with her rebellious and sensual voice into the furthest depths of hybridity and sophistication, mixing acoustic, vintage-sounding instruments (voluptuous brass and organ riffs) with deliciously retro synthetic sounds. From the outset, this album, eclectic and full of charm, could very well be the prologue to a new chapter in the singer’s atypical and eventful career. © Stéphane Ollivier/Qobuz

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

Issued by the RCA label in 2007, this two-disc John Denver retrospective features a well-selected collection of the late folk-pop performer's finest songs. Like the excellent though not-as-comprehensive Definitive All-Time Greatest Hits, the set presents many of the amiable Colorado-based singer/songwriter's most recognizable tunes, including the shimmering "Leaving on a Jet Plane" and the vibrant "Rocky Mountain High." However, Essential digs further into Denver's catalog, offering up lesser-known numbers such as the delicate "I Guess He'd Rather Be in Colorado" and the surprisingly energetic "I'd Rather Be a Cowboy (Lady's Chains)." Ideal for those wanting more than the Definitive compilation, but less than the weighty four-disc Country Roads Collection, Essential easily stands as one of the best Denver anthologies available.© Eric Schneider /TiVo

Back to the Egg is Paul McCartney's attempt to get back to rock & roll after the soft rock of London Town. Assembling a new lineup of Wings, McCartney leads the group through a set of his most undistinguished songs, ranging from the forced arena rock of "Old Siam, Sir" to the formulaic adult contemporary pap of "Arrow Through Me" -- and those are two of the more memorable cuts on the record. Part of the problem is the weak sound of the record and Wings' faceless performances, but the true problem is the songs, which have no spark whatsoever. On the basis of Back to the Egg, it's no wonder that McCartney returned to solo recordings after its relative failure.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Warm, inviting, and just so slightly sleepy, Afie Jurvanen continues to keep things simple on his second Bahamas album, Barchords. With its spacious, roomy sound and laid-back vibe, the album feels as if the guitarist is beginning to settle into a good groove as a songwriter, sounding more relaxed and self-assured on his sophomore effort as he allows the empty spaces of "Overjoyed" and the gentle repetition of "Lost in the Light" to stand on their own without over-thinking them too much. This sense of patience and confidence gives Barchords a more organic, feeling as if it's the plant that grew from the seed planted on Pink Strat. Intimate without being voyeuristic, and approachable without being patronizing, sparse without being cold, Barchords manages to balance all of these elements beautifully, merging plaintive folk and bluesy soul with just enough pop to make the whole thing go down smoothly. In the end, this kind of musical high-wire act is what ultimately allows Bahamas to not only avoid the dreaded sophomore slump, but to easily surpass their solid debut.© Gregory Heaney /TiVo

Isobel Campbell and Mark Lanegan seemed like an unlikely musical couple when they first began collaborating in 2006 -- she of the breathy whisper, he of the deep, bluesy rasp. But their intriguing blend of bitter and sweet has turned into viable ongoing partnership, and on their third album together, Hawk, Campbell and Lanegan continue to merge their distinct but complimentary styles while adding a few new edges to their approach. While Lanegan didn't write any material for this album, someone got the fine idea of persuading him to dip into the Townes Van Zandt songbook; his voice was tailor made for the grim undercurrents of "Snake Song." "Come Undone," meanwhile, plays out over a taut R&B-flavored backing track with strings and a relentless single-note piano mirroring the tension of the lyrics, while "You Won't Let Me Down Again" winds out its dark, atmospheric melody with a dose of slashing guitar courtesy of James Iha. "Get Behind Me" is a rollicking dose of honky tonk fire, and "Lately" closes out the set with some passionate country gospel pleading. But the biggest surprise is the title track, a righteous blast of sax-driven blues that stomps and swaggers to hard that there's no room for vocals, and if it seems like an odd choice for an album from a pair of singers, it's wild and tough enough that no one is likely to mind. Much of the rest of the album follows the template of Campbell and Lanegan's first two albums, but if it's heavy on echoing atmospherics and open spaces, there's no arguing that Campbell (as producer and primary songwriter) knows how to make this stuff work, and her duets with Lanegan sound only more confident and intuitive with time. Ballad of the Broken Seas was a surprise because two seemingly mismatched artists proved to be a splendid collaboration; four years later, Hawk isn't as startling, but it's encouraging to know that the magic between Campbell and Lanegan not only hasn't worn off, it's manifesting itself in new and compelling ways.© Mark Deming /TiVo

In 2008 ECM Records began an ambitious and handsome reissue project that brought many catalog titles back into print, in handsome gatefold cardboard digipacks with original artwork, and sold them for budget prices. In 2009 ECM jumped into the game of reissuing catalog titles en masse with budget multiple-disc box sets. Among the first of these are the three mysterious albums by the all-acoustic trio Codona, whose members were multi-instrumentalists Collin Walcott, Don Cherry, and Naná Vasconcelos. Codona are not often spoken of for their groundbreaking approach in melding world folk traditions to improvisation and jazz, but the truth is, they were at the very forefront. They used world music traditions authentically -- in the sense that each individual in the group had decades of study and immersion already under his belt before coming to the group -- without attempting to water anything down to make it fit. Codona were about listening and flow, and these three CDs are a monumental testament to that. Silence (not the new age artificial kind, but the true musical kind), space, interplay, compositional and improvisational discipline, and a sense of humor and playfulness mark these recordings as indispensable parts of the ECM catalog, and as important additions to each musician's résumé. The truth of the matter, whether they were playing two Ornette Coleman tunes bridged by one by Stevie Wonder as in "Colemanwonder" on their debut, African traditional music as in "Godumaduma" on Codona, Vol. 2, or an original tune such as "Hey Da Ba Doom" by Walcott on Codona, Vol. 3, the same elements were always applied, and always put to rather astonishingly adventurous use. No one composition sounds like another and no group of elements, regardless of how dissimilar -- from sitar, tabla, sanza, and hammered dulcimer; to berimbau, cuica, and talking drum; to trumpet, doussn'gouni, flutes, and melodica; to voices -- ever sounds out of place or strange no matter how exotic the setting. Codona were the sound of nature unveiled, of music engaged with the universe, of the genuine expertise and good will of a group of master musicians in dialogue with one another. This is remarkable music, and these recordings endure as well as still point the way to what is possible when players check their egos at the door in service of music itself.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

Get Lifted netted John Legend a major hit ("Ordinary People") that will be heard on adult contemporary stations and throwback-oriented programs as long as they exist, platinum status, and three Grammy titles -- including the potential kiss of death that is Best New Artist. If Legend hadn't linked up with Kanye West or any other connected industry figure, he'd probably be well into a string of independent albums and would likely have a fanatical cult following through persistent touring. It doesn't take much exposure to his songs to sense this alternate scenario. No one can deny that Legend has had considerable help from his collaborators, and he continues to get that support this time out -- there's West, will.i.am, Sa-Ra, Raphael Saadiq, Plant Life's Jack Splash, and a massive crew of session musicians, but it's already evident that Legend only needs a piano to get by. Even with its many producers, Once Again is much more focused than Get Lifted, and the quality of its songs is equally high. Legend's obviously doing everything in his power to not fall off. He pours so much of himself into each one of these songs, whether they're about flings with groupies or breakups with long-term girlfriends, that the album can begin to wear around the eighth track. The songs flit back and forth between easygoing, butterflies-of-love-type sentiments and deep drama, with both sides expressed through similar levels of intensity. As much as anyone else, Legend would benefit from the recent (and generally welcomed) return of the 40-minute R&B album. If the album is missing something, it's a snappy, unapologetically swaggering track in the vein of Get Lifted's "Used to Love U," or perhaps a song or two that doesn't seem intent on displaying impressive musicality, but there are enough undeniably bright spots to please those who have already been won over. While Once Again might not get as much attention as its predecessor, it's more assured and sounds nothing like an experiment to see what sticks. Legend now knows exactly where he fits, and he's not holding back in the least.© Andy Kellman /TiVo

With their second album Rides Again, the James Gang came into their own. Under the direction of guitarist Joe Walsh, the group -- now featuring bassist Dale Peters -- began incorporating keyboards into their hard rock, which helped open up their musical horizons. For much of the first side of Rides Again, the group tear through a bunch of boogie numbers, most notably the heavy groove of "Funk #49." On the second side, the James Gang departs from their trademark sound, adding keyboard flourishes and elements of country-rock to their hard rock. Walsh's songwriting had improved, giving the band solid support for their stylistic experiments. What ties the two sides of the record together is the strength of the band's musicianship, which burns brightly and powerfully on the hardest rockers, as well as on the sensitive ballads.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo