Produced by Rick Rubin, Johnny Cash’s legendary American recordings are not only among his major musical statements, but also its moving final will. Released in November 2002, American IV – The Man Comes Around is the last volume of the collection that was released while Cash was still alive (He passed away 10 months after its release). Using the famous “cover” recipe, Johnny Cash managed in this record to turn other musicians’ compositions, sometimes recent work, into his own unique style. Nine Inch Nails, Depeche Mode, and Sting are all covered, and when listening to Cash’s rendition of their songs it is sometimes difficult to recall their original versions. As usual, Rubin’s work on the soundboard is devoted to Johnny Cash’s voice. Caught it its last whispers, the voice is haunting, yet never morose.Indeed, the voice is key in “American IV”.  The material can bring chills (the video clip of Hurt is deeply moving and, after listening to the track, Trent Reznor proclaimed “It’s like I have lost my girlfriend. This song doesn’t belong to me anymore…”), Give My Love To Rose evokes a sadness that is a strike at the heart, and I Hung My Head expresses an innocence that is profoundly tender. Even when he deals with the classic repertoire of country music, many that he recorded in the past (Sam Hall, Give My Love To Rose, I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry, Streets of Laredo, Danny Boy) the Man in Black brings to his interpretation the sorrow and sensitivity of his dying condition, always with grace and dignity. A sad yet festive funeral, the record includes many featured guest artists: Fiona Apple and Nick Cave sing, John Frusciante of the Red Hot Chili Peppers and Marty Stuart strum their guitars, old partner Cowboy Jack Clement pulls out his dobro, Joey Waronker abandons Beck and Air to join in the rhythm section, and Benmont Tench brings in an array of keyboards including an organ, harmonium, Mellotron, vibraphone and even a Wurlitzer. Music lovers from all over the world recognized what a masterpiece American IV – The Man Comes Around had been created, and its reception led it to be a gold record, which was Johnny Cash’s first in thirty years. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

Returning to full-time status after the resurrection of 2013's Save Rock & Roll, Fall Out Boy quickly bashed out American Beauty/American Psycho, their sixth record and an album that definitively grapples with a host of percolating pop trends of the 2010s. Ever since they began to have hits in 2006, Fall Out Boy have taken great efforts to incorporate whatever was happening on the charts, an inclination that isn't quite as necessary in the great digital disassociation of the 2010s, yet this inclination does give American Beauty/American Psycho a bit of a kinetic kick. It also gives it a slight air of desperation, evident on the ham fisted "Immortals," a track that first appeared in the Disney animated film Big Hero 6, and it does indeed bear traces of being stitched together to appeal to a broad audience. The rest of AB/AP is quirkier, a record built on the detritus of the last four decades of consumer culture. Songs are anchored on samples of Suzanne Vega ("Centuries") or, better still, a bizarre appropriation of The Munsters theme (the wild, careening "Uma Thurman," where the Halloween surfer-swing attempts to replicate the sexy menace of Pulp Fiction), but these are essentially accents on a record that fully incorporates Pete Wentz's rock & roll savior aspirations with Patrick Stump's eager, earnest soul. This collaboration comes in the form of the slow-burning "The Kids Aren't Alright" (its whistled hook being a slyer nod to Peter Bjorn & John than the title's allusion to the Who) and the full-on, spangled disco-rock of "Novocaine" and "American Beauty/American Psycho" -- tracks whose imagination indicates that Fall Out Boy are able to harness their ambitions and accentuate their ideas as they start to creep toward middle age.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

During the late '50s, Ella Fitzgerald continued her Song Book records with Sings the George and Ira Gershwin Song Book, releasing a series of albums featuring 59 songs written by George and Ira Gershwin. Those songs, plus alternate takes, were combined on a four-disc box set, Sings the George and Ira Gershwin Song Book, in 1998. These performances are easily among Fitzgerald's very best, and for any serious fan, this is the ideal place to acquire the recordings, since the sound and presentation are equally classy and impressive.© Leo Stanley /TiVo

At the ripe age of sixty-one, Sardinian trumpeter Paulo Fresu—renowned within the European Jazz world—continues to accumulate projects. He employs his stunning lyrical and ultra-refined music in a multitude of contexts. Here, he’s accompanied by an old friend, bandoneonist Daniele Di Bonaventura (see Mistico Mediterraneo, released in 2011 on ECM) and two of the most talented musicians on the young Italian scene: double bass player Marco Bardoscia and pianist Dino Rubino. Through his music, Fresu brings to life the words of poet and publisher Lawrence Ferlinghetti, a prominent figure within 20th-century American literature who died on 22nd February 2021 at the age of 101. Ferlinghetti was closely linked to the inception of the Beat Generation.From the very first bars, the listener is totally immersed in a world of subtle elegance. The four musicians maintain sensitivity and musical complicity throughout. They reveal the cinematic poetry and the melancholic atmosphere created by the melodic sumptuousness of Fresu’s trumpet. This effect is enhanced by the tawny colours of the bandoneon in skilfully choreographed impressionist playlets. On occasion, Fresu will demonstrate the deep resonance of his trumpet through electronic effects, as he does in ‘Obscene Boundaries’ and ‘Island of the Mind’. He will enrich his performance by adding sporadic touches of expressionism, but never overstepping his strict, sophisticated framework. The ambience created by the record remains melancholic and intimate. Ultimately, this stunning music is both seductive and refined, constantly resting on the precipice of emotion without ever lapsing into sentimentality. © Stéphane Ollivier

Shortly after the release of the American Beauty soundtrack -- which featured tantalizing excerpts from Thomas Newman's music bookending a collection of pop songs -- came the release of the full score. From the film's haunting main theme and "Any Other Name" to the witty, percussive "Dead Already," "Choking the Bishop," and "Mr. Smarty Man," Newman's score evokes as much feeling and humor as the film itself does. Even more so than the first volume of the soundtrack, the score from American Beauty is a necessity for the movie's fans.© Heather Phares /TiVo

"[N]otice the lift and speed that comes from his verse, half sung, half rapped, minimal and hip hop in its humble celebration of mere words over beat."© TiVo

Iron & Wine have shown an impressive work ethic since the release of The Creek Drank the Cradle in 2002. A flood of singles, EPs, and albums, each with high levels of quality, have made Iron & Wine and Sam Beam stars in the indie rock world. Introspective, leaning toward morose, and heavily bearded stars, but glittering just the same. 2007's The Shepherd's Dog goes a long way toward validating all the attention I&W have been getting; it's their best, most diverse, and most listenable record yet, as Beam and co. take another leap away from the lo-fi, one-dude-in-a-bedroom beginnings of the group. Here Beam surrounds himself with a large cast of musicians, and they blanket the songs with a wide array of instrumentation, everything from accordions to Hammond organ, piano to backward guitars, vibraphone to bass harmonica. Nothing too strange in the everything-goes world of indie rock circa 2007, but for Iron & Wine, it's a widescreen revelation. Perhaps working with Calexico on 2005's In the Reins inspired Beam to use all the colors in the paint box. Maybe it's a natural progression. Either way it leads to an inspiringly lush album, full of imaginative and rich arrangements. Not to say Beam has cast aside the vital elements that made the band so interesting to begin with; his whispered vocals still conjure shadowy mystery, the songs are still melancholy as hell at their core, and as always there's a lingering sense of Southern gothic foreboding shrouding the proceedings. The increased production values take these elements and goose them. The recognizably I&W songs like the dark and creepy "Peace Beneath the City" or the gloomy country ballad "Resurrection Fern" sound bigger and have a different kind of impact. Take "Boy with a Coin," which in the past would have been spare, spooky, and a bit insular, but now is huge and spooky thanks to the propulsive handclaps and atmospheric backward guitars that would make Daniel Lanois jealous. Along with these pumped-up variations on the band's classic sound, there are songs you'd never imagine hearing on an Iron & Wine album. The danceable (!) "House by the Sea" has jumpy Afro-pop underpinnings and a bit of wild abandon in Beam's more passionate-than-usual vocals; "Wolves (Song of the Shepherd's Dog)" is a funky mix of David Essex's "Rock On," a backwoods-sounding Meters, and of all things, dub reggae; and most shockingly, "The Devil Never Sleeps" actually rocks with a rollicking barroom piano, a loping tempo, bongos, and lyrics about nothing on the radio, leading to a sound that's ironically perfect for the radio. By the end of the record, you may feel a few pangs for the discarded, sparse sound of early Iron & Wine, but the beauty and majesty of The Shepherd's Dog will pave right over them, and you should be able to enjoy the masterful songcraft, inspired performance, and note-perfect production with no guilt and a fair bit of awe.© Tim Sendra /TiVo

Daymè Arocena's first album in nearly four years is a surprising sonic stew of adventurous yet accessible, jazzy Afro-Caribbean R&B. The 32 year-old Afro-Cuban sensation, whose distinctive voice is equally smooth and powerful, wraps herself in slick modern production techniques to craft sensuous neo-soul that doesn't sound like anything else, near or far, old or new.Informed by and infused with the religious principles of santeria, Alkemi not only reflects its inspiration through its use of modern sounds deeply informed by centuries-old ones, but the songs themselves are about the power of transformation (especially the closer, "Die And Live Again"). The cover image shows the artist clad in gold powder, appearing to be lost in ritual. This is music to move your body to; it's not somber or obscure. These are songs you sway and get up off your feet to. The delirious and joyful "American Boy" will appeal equally to fans of Celia Cruz, Meshell Ndegeocello, and Sade. After heading to Puerto Rico from her then-home of Canada to record this, her fourth studio album, Arocena chose to stay put. The entire album is smooth and absolutely contemporary, thanks in large part to noted producer Eduardo Cabra (Calle 13). "Suave y Pegao" mixes bossa nova and urbano stylings while featuring reggaeton singer Rafa Pabön on guest vocals. This musical prodigy has been a professional singer since she was just eight, so she's won the right to reinvent herself and represent her heritage by forging new pathways forward. © Mike McGonigal/Qobuz

Iron & Wine have shown an impressive work ethic since the release of The Creek Drank the Cradle in 2002. A flood of singles, EPs, and albums, each with high levels of quality, have made Iron & Wine and Sam Beam stars in the indie rock world. Introspective, leaning toward morose, and heavily bearded stars, but glittering just the same. 2007's The Shepherd's Dog goes a long way toward validating all the attention I&W have been getting; it's their best, most diverse, and most listenable record yet, as Beam and co. take another leap away from the lo-fi, one-dude-in-a-bedroom beginnings of the group. Here Beam surrounds himself with a large cast of musicians, and they blanket the songs with a wide array of instrumentation, everything from accordions to Hammond organ, piano to backward guitars, vibraphone to bass harmonica. Nothing too strange in the everything-goes world of indie rock circa 2007, but for Iron & Wine, it's a widescreen revelation. Perhaps working with Calexico on 2005's In the Reins inspired Beam to use all the colors in the paint box. Maybe it's a natural progression. Either way it leads to an inspiringly lush album, full of imaginative and rich arrangements. Not to say Beam has cast aside the vital elements that made the band so interesting to begin with; his whispered vocals still conjure shadowy mystery, the songs are still melancholy as hell at their core, and as always there's a lingering sense of Southern gothic foreboding shrouding the proceedings. The increased production values take these elements and goose them. The recognizably I&W songs like the dark and creepy "Peace Beneath the City" or the gloomy country ballad "Resurrection Fern" sound bigger and have a different kind of impact. Take "Boy with a Coin," which in the past would have been spare, spooky, and a bit insular, but now is huge and spooky thanks to the propulsive handclaps and atmospheric backward guitars that would make Daniel Lanois jealous. Along with these pumped-up variations on the band's classic sound, there are songs you'd never imagine hearing on an Iron & Wine album. The danceable (!) "House by the Sea" has jumpy Afro-pop underpinnings and a bit of wild abandon in Beam's more passionate-than-usual vocals; "Wolves (Song of the Shepherd's Dog)" is a funky mix of David Essex's "Rock On," a backwoods-sounding Meters, and of all things, dub reggae; and most shockingly, "The Devil Never Sleeps" actually rocks with a rollicking barroom piano, a loping tempo, bongos, and lyrics about nothing on the radio, leading to a sound that's ironically perfect for the radio. By the end of the record, you may feel a few pangs for the discarded, sparse sound of early Iron & Wine, but the beauty and majesty of The Shepherd's Dog will pave right over them, and you should be able to enjoy the masterful songcraft, inspired performance, and note-perfect production with no guilt and a fair bit of awe.© Tim Sendra /TiVo

After 1994's American Recordings revitalized Johnny Cash's career, he and producer Rick Rubin had to come up with an encore, and in some respects 1996's Unchained was the sort of album many were expecting American Recordings to be. Instead of the solo acoustic approach of American Recordings, Unchained paired Cash with a noted rock band Rubin had worked with in the past -- Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers, whose roots-conscious style and Southern heritage would seemingly make them compatible with the Man in Black. There's no arguing that Petty and his band sound fully committed on Unchained and deliver uniformly heartfelt and expert performances. However, part of what made American Recordings so effective was the opportunity to hear Cash's emotionally forceful vocals with only the most minimal accompaniment, and as good as the Heartbreakers are, in their presence Cash sounds a bit more restrained and less willing to push himself. Also, while having Cash cover Glenn Danzig's "Thirteen" worked unexpectedly well on American Recordings, taking on Beck and Soundgarden doesn't fare nearly as well here, and Cash's version of "Memories Are Made of This" may have been a better match in theory, but it doesn't quite make it in practice. But there are more than a few triumphant moments on this disc, including inspired recuts of "Country Boy" and "Mean Eyed Cat," a dignified and deeply felt interpretation of Petty's "Southern Accents," and a rollicking tear through "I've Been Everywhere" for the finale. If Unchained didn't seem like an event or an instant classic like its immediate predecessor, it confirmed Cash was still a vital artist with plenty of life in him, no mean feat for a man of 64 who'd been making records for more than 40 years.© Mark Deming /TiVo

Upon seeing a Bad Religion album titled Christmas Songs, the instinctive reaction would be to assume the band was releasing an album meant to skewer the holiday and the evil corporations that profit from its commercialization. Instead, the album is exactly what it appears to be, with the legendary punk band delivering high energy yet faithful renditions of Christmas classics like "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing," "Little Drummer Boy," and "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen." Rather than subverting culture, the band goes one step further, subverting the expectations of listeners by performing the songs without irony. Most surprising, however, is how well these songs work with Bad Religion's driving and melodic style and Greg Graffin's distinctive voice, showing that these songs' ability to endure for so long might have more to do with their solid songwriting than with the machinations of any church or corporate entity.© Gregory Heaney /TiVo

American Kid is Patty Griffin's first album of primarily original material since 2007's Children Running Through. It's her most stripped-down recording since her debut, Living with Ghosts. Acoustic guitars of all stripes, mandolins, earthy drums, percussion, bass, and occasional piano and organ accompany her instantly recognizable voice. Co-produced by the artist and Craig Ross, she is joined by longtime guitarist Doug Lancio, as well as Cody and Luther Dickinson. Robert Plant appears on three songs, including the single "Ohio." The set was recorded in Memphis and Brooklyn. Griffin wrote most of these songs after learning of her father's impending death. They aren't so much about his actual life, but her making sense of the coming absence of his physical presence in hers, what she knew of him and his times. These songs are mostly acoustic; one can hear traces of early blues, various American folk styles, gospel, and vintage country music in her brand of Americana. There isn't anything extra anywhere in the mix. The space in the high lonesome "Go Wherever You Wanna Go," with Luther's National Steel guitar playing slide in counterpart to Griffin's earthy vocal, is almost spooky. The combined supplication and exhortation in the haunted "Don't Let Me Die in Florida" carries traces of prewar and Memphis blues. The duet between Griffin and Plant on "Ohio," is a shimmering, open-tuned droning float, it's lyric binds spiritual and physical love; it would not have been out of place on a Band of Joy record. The feeling of home and hearth saturates her excellent reading of Lefty Frizzell's "Mom & Dad's Waltz," while the musical sensation -- if not the form -- of the folk-blues courses through the disquieting "Faithful Son," with a haunting backing vocal by Plant. "Irish Boy" evokes an early 20th century parlor song; Griffin's only accompaniment is her piano. "Get Ready Marie" is a barroom waltz, complete with a male backing chorus and made loopy by an off-kilter Hammond B-3. The set closer, "Gonna Miss You When You're Gone," is Griffin speaking directly to her father, addressing the deep mark he made upon her life, even as he's passing through it. It's part Lonnie Johnson and Lil Green swing blues, and part Peggy Lee pop. It's slow burning, tender, and bittersweet, a three a.m. confession in an empty room, sung from one spirit to another. While the theme of mortality runs deep through American Kid, so does the celebration of life. Roughshod and unpredictable songs engage it in the present as well as the past, through courage, fear, love, memory, and the grainy, knotty, often invisible ties that bind. With its immediacy, economy, cagey strength, and vulnerability, Griffin delivers these 12 songs not as gifts or statements, but as her own evidence of what is, what was, and what yet may come.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

Boasting a big-name producer and appearances from a handful of actual mainstream rock stars, Brick by Brick was a remarkably successful attempt (critically, if not commercially) to create an "event album" around Iggy Pop, so the follow-up came as a surprise -- American Caesar was cut fast and loose in a New Orleans studio, with Malcolm Burn (hardly known for his work in hard rock) in the producer's chair and Pop's road band backing him up. But the real surprise was that American Caesar ranks with Pop's very best solo work. Dark, loud, and atmospheric, it's a far riskier album than Brick by Brick, lyrically following that disc's themes of America teetering on the edge of internal collapse with the same degree of hard-won maturity, but adding a wacked-out passion and force that recall the heady days of Raw Power. While Pop's group doesn't play with the subtlety of the studio cats on Brick by Brick (I'll leave it to others to debate if they won't or they can't), they also sound tight and forceful, like a real band with plenty of muscle and some miles under their belts. Eric Schermerhorn's guitar meshes with Pop's vocals as well as anyone he's worked with since Ron Asheton, and Malcolm Burn's production is clear and detailed but adds subtle textures that season the formula just right. The hard rockers are full-bodied ("Wild America," "Plastic and Concrete"), the calmer tunes still bristle with tension and menace ("Mixing the Colors," "Jealousy"), the few moments of calm sound sincere and richly earned ("Highway Song," "It's Our Love"), the manic rewritten remake of "Louie Louie" actually tops the version on Metallic K.O., and the title cut is a bizarre bit of spoken-word performance art that's as strange as the entirety of Zombie Birdhouse, and a rousing success where that album was a brave failure. In a note printed on the CD itself, Pop says of American Caesar, "I tried to make this album as good as I could, with no imitations of other people and no formula sh*t." And Pop succeeded beyond anyone's expectations; American Caesar is an overlooked masterpiece.© Mark Deming /TiVo

Since From Nashville to Memphis: The Essential 60's Masters gave up the ghost of being a complete overview of Elvis Presley's '60s recordings, the compilers of the companion five-disc box set Walk a Mile in My Shoes: The Essential 70's Masters -- the third and final installment in RCA's justifiably acclaimed Elvis box set reissue series -- decided to throw even the illusion of comprehensiveness out the window and just serve up five discs and 120 tracks of highlights. Instead of adhering to a strict chronological sequencing, which the two previous boxes did, this is divided into two discs of singles, two discs of studio highlights, then one disc that attempts to present the ultimate Elvis Presley live show by culling peaks from several gigs throughout of the decade. This is a sharp move, since there is simply too much recorded material from the '70s to be presented either completely or chronologically, and his high points are easier to digest broken down in this fashion. Truth be told, he didn't have too many outright classics during this time -- just "Burning Love," "Always on My Mind," "Raised on Rock," "Promised Land," and "Moody Blue," along with 1971's excellent album Elvis Country (I'm 10,000 Years Old) -- but it was a far more consistent era than the '60s, and it was more adventurous in terms of material and production, never sounding like pandering, which the early '60s could on occasion. This is more evident on the studio highlights than on the singles discs, particularly because those two discs delve into records like Elvis Country, but the end result is a set that is far more consistent and entertaining than From Nashville to Memphis, even if it doesn't sustain the delirious heights of his late-'60s comeback. If the fifth, final live disc is the kind of thing that you listen to only once or twice, it still crackles with energy, and the two studio highlights discs prove that Presley was still a sensitive, inventive interpreter of strong material, and the productions have a rich, robust diversity that keeps this interesting and enjoyable. To say that the '70s recordings are more consistent than the '60s is true, but it does give the impression that Elvis was as consistently brilliant as he was a decade earlier. That's simply not the case -- the best of the '60s recordings overshadows the best cuts here without effort -- but this does have a diversity of material and sound (even if it sometimes borders on the splashy excess of Vegas) that not only keeps it interesting, it proves that, when pressed, Elvis was still restless and inventive. Maybe the music here isn't as outright classic as those on the previous box sets, but it captures its era just as well, and provides the final piece of musical narrative while serving up some terrific music. And if the final chapter of the most iconic figure in American popular music is not essential to a library, then you don't truly care for American popular music.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Fresh from stints in the McCoys and Johnny Winter Band, All American Boy was supposed to be Rick Derringer's breakthrough solo album. For years, it was argued that the frightfully touched-up cover photo of Derringer sank the album before anyone heard it. If that's true, it's a shame, because this is simply Rick Derringer's most focused and cohesive album, a marvelous blend of rockers, ballads, and atmospheric instrumentals. Joe Walsh helps out on a couple of tracks, but mostly it's Derringer's show -- multi-instrumental virtuosity in a number of styles. Consider this one of the great albums of the '70s that fell between the cracks.© Cub Koda /TiVo

In April 2019, Brockhampton frontman Kevin Abstract slowly unveiled an album in pieces, culminating in its final form, Arizona Baby. Produced primarily by Jack Antonoff with additional work by Brockhampton mate Romil Hemnani, the album showcased Abstract's ability to slide from genre to genre: in addition to thriving in smooth R&B soundscapes that would fit nicely alongside Frank Ocean and Anderson .Paak, he also delved deep into conscious hip-hop territory with introspective pieces that focused on religion, his sexuality, and family. Highlights include the energetic "Joyride," the thoughtful Ghettobaby song trio ("Corpus Christi," "Baby Boy," and "Mississippi"), and "Peach," which featured vocals by Dominic Fike and Brockhampton crew members Joba and Bearface. Upon release, the album debuted just outside the Top 50 of the Billboard 200.© Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo