Double live albums were commonplace during the '70s, even for bands that weren't particularly good in concert. As a travelin' band, Lynyrd Skynyrd made their fame and fortune by being good in concert, so it made sense that they released a double-live, entitled One More from the Road, in 1976, months after the release of their fourth album, Gimme Back My Bullets. That might have been rather quick for a live album -- only three years separated this record from the group's debut -- but it was enthusiastically embraced, entering the Top Ten (it would become one of their best-selling albums, as well). It's easy to see why it was welcomed, since this album demonstrates what a phenomenal catalog of songs Skynyrd accumulated. Street Survivors, which appeared the following year, added "That Smell" and "You Got That Right" to the canon, but this pretty much has everything else, sometimes extended into jams as long as those of the Allmans, but always much rawer, nearly dangerous. That catalog, as much as the strong performances, makes One More from the Road worth hearing. Heard here, on one record, the consistency of Skynyrd's work falls into relief, and they not only clearly tower above their peers based on what's here; the cover of "T for Texas" illustrates that they're carrying on the Southern tradition, not starting a new one. Like most live albums, this is not necessarily essential, but if you're a fan, it's damn hard to take this album off after it starts. © Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Bridges can be underrated, if not outright ignored or forgotten, in modern pop music. But Australian artist Alex Lahey approaches them as marvels of engineering, there to not only buttress a song but take it from one place to the next along the most scenic, sonically glorious route possible. She builds one up via soft-loud dynamics on "Congratulations," a slice of aughts-era indie rock joy about hating that you still care about an ex who’s moved on: "There's no mistaking/ That I'm shaken/ By your lightning/ Change of heart/ And my obsessing/ Means regressing." The bridge is pretty and bittersweet—like a pivotal movie scene that shows the main character has had a change of heart—on "The Sky Is Melting." The folky "Permanent" erupts into a grand, strings-propelled emo bridge reminiscent of Electric Owls, and Lahey’s Aussie accent comes through strong on lines like "I am at home on my own/ Wishing that I wasn't alone/ But I've been here before/ Playing the same three fucking chords"— then mocks herself with some gingerly strumming. There is no denying the similarities between Lahey and fellow Aussie Courtney Barnett on that track as well as the conversational speak-sung verses and jagged guitar honk of the excellent "Good Time," but on the latter Lahey gleefully makes the decision to run toward the kind of big, layered pop-radio chorus Barnett typically resists. Indeed,  Lahey knows her way around a big power-pop chorus, like on the giddy "You’ll Never Get Your Money Back" (written with Jenny Owen Youngs and Jess Abbott of Now, Now, it sound like Lahey is having the time of her life) and the insistent, Sahara Hot Nights-esque pogo-punk of "On the Way Down." (Credit due, too, to producer Jacknife Lee, known for glossy work with U2, the Killers and Snow Patrol.) "Shit Talkin'" is both a soap bubble of Cheap Trick-worthy ’70s power pop and a misanthrope’s lament ("You know, the thing about seeing people/ Is deciding what you want them to see/ Will they wish that I could stay forever/ Or will they want me to leave … I bet you when they're on their own/ They're shit talkin' all the way home"). "They Wouldn't Let Me In" packs in a slinky groove, hyperactive beat and careening guitar that takes a sharp New Wave turn, creating a Paramore song that might be better than anything on Paramore’s last record. Gentle and tentative, closer "The Answer Is Always Yes" plays like it’s on the brink before the ground gives way and the song opens in a big, chaotic, beautiful bride of revelation: "I don’t want it all to be the way before it changed." © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Thirty years later, Paul Westerberg and the rest of The Replacements are having another shot at getting their sixth album right on Don’t Tell A Soul Redux. The revamp is part of a new box set, Dead Man's Pop, which also contains a live show and other rare goodies, including additional tracks from a session with Tom Waits and earlier, scrapped tracks recorded at Bearsville Studios. For the Redux mix, Matt Wallace, who originally co-produced Don't Tell a Soul along with the band, used a mix recorded during the 1988 Paisley Park sessions as source material. As might be expected, the polarizing late-'80s gloss is gone, replaced by a clearer, lively sonic approach with plenty of nuance: Acoustic guitars are more prominent throughout, and individual parts within songs (a blazing guitar line here, a crashing piano part there) are evident. This clarity also revealed that Don't Tell a Soul continued to build on Pleased To Meet Me's diversity; songs encompass a whimsical soul-pop shuffle ("Asking Me Lies"), an R.E.M.-esque anthem ("Darlin' One" and its towering, droning guitars) and swaggering Americana ("We'll Inherit the Earth"). In perhaps the boldest move of all, Don't Tell a Soul's tracklisting is completely shuffled around on the new version, with only leadoff track "Talent Show" and "We'll Inherit the Earth" in slot three maintaining their original positions. This sequencing tweak is brilliant, as the album now boasts a poignant emotional arc that starts with anxiety over band and career matters and ends with piercing personal confessions. © Annie Zaleski / Qobuz

Addition by subtraction? A punk band selling out? Audio distortion as an artistic principal? The sound of a boom box cranked up? Where's Bob? The Replacements' Pleased to Meet Me continues to answer all these questions and more. In 1986, like a snake shedding its skin, the Minneapolis foursome parted ways with guitarist Bob Stinson, leaving a trio of his younger brother Tommy on bass, drummer Chris Mars and singer/guitarist Paul Westerberg. Westerberg's poppier, more intimate songs and growing ambitions for success immediately began to transform the band. For their fifth album the threesome ended up at Memphis' Ardent Studios in the capable hands of Jim Dickinson, the producer of Big Star's Third, the pianist heard on The Stones' "Wild Horses," and a collaborator with Bob Dylan and Ry Cooder. Described in the liner notes by friends as a "Southern mad scientist," Dickinson engaged in a psychodrama-mind meld with the band and the result was an album that both band and producer would forever after be known for. Because record labels have come to realize that extras are needed for reissues to succeed, two ideas predominate: demos to show how songs were shaped and unreleased concert material to show how the material matured when played live. First reissued with extra tracks in 2008, Rhino's new Pleased to Meet Me reissue is a deep dive into how the tunes evolved from early demos, through rough mixes, outtakes, alternates and tracks that appeared only as singles to a 2020 remaster of the original album. Of the 55 tracks in this reissue, 29 have never been released before. The early demos from Blackberry Way Studios in Minneapolis—which contain Bob Stinson's last recordings with the band—show that the material had structure and rudimentary arrangements before Memphis. The rough mixes of tunes like "Alex Chilton" by Ardent's John Hampton, have a clattery, spacious ambiance and show how much tightening had yet to be done. Of the rough mixes, "Can't Hardly Wait" is a tick slower than the issued take and Dickinson's rollicking piano part on raucous opener "IOU" is lifted up in the mix. An early digital recording which made extensive use of a Fairlight sampler, the sound of Pleased to Meet Me has always been aggressive and embellished, tarted up with touches like the broken glass in "Shooting Dirty Pool," the opening distortion of "Red Red Wine," and Chris and Tommy's opening laughter, their zombie Greek chorus and the mid tune sax growl in "I Don't Know." The oddball lounge jazz of "Nightclub Jitters" is appropriately atmospheric and cool while the "The Ledge," the album's chosen single has the requisite "big" sound which was then attractive to alternative radio and MTV. Visceral but melodic, tender but defiant, as fierce a rock record now as it was the day it was released, Pleased to Meet Me, still epitomizes what producer Dickinson calls in the liner notes, "recording the feeling in your soul while you're playing." © Robert Baird/Qobuz

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After making an impressive and promising debut with Framed, the Sensational Alex Harvey Band perfected their unique, glam-inspired fusion of hard rock and cabaret styles on Next. It also happens to be their best-sounding album, thanks to the efforts of Phil Wainman, a producer best known for his work as a bubblegum-pop svengali to the likes of Sweet and the Bay City Rollers. Wainman puts the band's sound over the top by adding a sense of studio polish that fleshes out their odd combination of styles without taking away from the music's sense of rock & roll power. The result is an album that has all the muscle of a good hard-rock recording but tempers its bombast with a sense of big-production depth and clarity that brings outs the band's tight musicianship. Next also produced the Sensational Alex Harvey Band's first hit single with "Faith Healer," the creepy tale of a religious con artist that blends an intense vocal from Harvey with a thunderous, guitar-driven wall of sound production. Other standout moments include the title track, a frenzied reading of a ribald Jacques Brel tune that effectively pits Harvey's anguished wail against lovely orchestrations, and "The Last Of The Teenage Idols," an autobiographical exploration of Harvey's travails in the music business that shows off the band's versatility through an arrangement that encompasses hard rock, big-band soul, and even doo-wop. To sum up, Next is one of the true high points of the English glam-rock boom and required listening for anyone with an interest in Alex Harvey's music.© Donald A. Guarisco /TiVo