Renewal, the sequel to his Grammy-winning Rounder debut Home, finds Billy Strings following a similar path that he did on his breakthrough record. The instrumentation and format are traditional bluegrass, while the songwriting is progressive and the execution is heartfelt and lively, elements that make Renewal feel vital and vibrant. At seventy minutes, Renewal runs a bit long but its momentum never ceases and the extra space allows for Strings and his supple, intuitive band to push at the boundaries of where traditional and progressive bluegrass meet.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Apart from the dark and majestic Seamonsters, George Best is easily the best possible introduction to the Wedding Present's work; it's also a fine introduction to the entire C-86 scene that had such an impact on British rock. It would be nearly impossible to name the standout tracks, since the band's strength lies in the fact that every tune is so solid: it should suffice to mention "Everyone Thinks He Looks Daft," "My Favourite Dress," "Anyone Can Make a Mistake," and "Shatner" -- then remember that nearly every song on the album is just as good as those that have been picked out as singles. Though it's early days in their long career, David Gedge's cheerfully bitter worldview and brilliantly glum wordplay was fully formed by this point, as was the band's musically punishing attack that was built on hummingbird fast guitars and thumping drums. With the band never taking a breath or slowing down, the album can be a bit overwhelming at times, but it's also just as easy to swept away and transported by the sound and fury. A brilliant debut. © Nitsuh Abebe & Tim Sendra /TiVo

This time working solely with Steve Lillywhite, the Furs introduce a brighter, poppier side to their underground rock edge, with smashing results throughout. The group produces some powerful songs, even more rough-edged than before. Especially striking is "Dumb Waiters," with its queasy, slow-paced arrangement that allows both Kilburn's sax and Ashton's guitar to go wild. However, the six still create some undeniable pop classics. Most well-known is the lead track, "Pretty in Pink," inspiration for the iconic John Hughes film years later and re-recorded as a result. The original is still where to go, though, with Butler's catchy description of a romantically unsure woman matched by a killer band performance. Similarly lighter numbers on the record call to mind a rockier version of Roxy Music's output in later years: elegant, romantic angst given a slightly rougher edge in both music and vocals. "She Is Mine" is especially fine as a gently swinging number with some of Butler's best, quietly ruminative lyrics. Straight-up anthems abound as well, the best being the amazing "Into You Like a Train," which mixes the blunt desire of the title with a sparkling Ashton guitar line and a fast rhythm punch. Talk Talk Talk ends on another high with "All of This and Nothing." A soft, acoustic guitar-sax-rhythm combination introduces the song, then fades away for the main section to begin; Butler details bits and pieces from a lost relationship over a sharp full-band performance, and a final drum smash leads into a reprise of the start -- a fine way to end a fine record.© Ned Raggett /TiVo

The Psychedelic Furs acquired a million or so more fans in 1986 after they re-recorded their early '80s classic "Pretty in Pink" for the John Hughes box-office smash of the same name. The Top-40 success of "Heartbreak Beat" a year later took the once enigmatic new wave band further into the mainstream. 1988's All of This and Nothing is basically a tutorial for late Furs converts. The group's original followers probably have most of the lyrics memorized, but the album is an accessible and enlightening introduction to the band. "Imitation of Christ" and "Sister Europe" are from the group's self-titled 1980 debut, and their dark, ragged edges offer a glimpse of the band's less commercial younger days. On the gorgeous "Love My Way" the Furs have more of a pop flavor, giving hints at the group's subsequent transformation. It was on 1984's Mirror Moves that the Psychedelic Furs completely softened their abrasiveness and began writing warm, keyboard-laden songs. Accused of selling out at the time by diehard aficionados, the Psychedelic Furs actually improved on Mirror Moves; their music became more pleasing to the ear, as exemplified on the hauntingly beautiful ballad "The Ghost in You" and the soaring "Heaven". Richard Butler's voice remained as raspy as ever, but it took on a more romantic tone that was very appealing. 1987's ultra slick Midnight to Midnight is represented here by the aforementioned "Heartbreak Beat". "Heartbreak Beat" has silly, clichéd lyrics (i.e. "There's a heartbreak beat/And it feels like love"; nevertheless, its nonsense hooks are deliriously catchy. With ts swirling guitars and sarcastic lyrics, "All That Money Wants" was seen as a return to the Furs of old when it was included as a new track on All of This and Nothing. It's not. The tune merely combines the dissonance of their first full-length with their stronger melodic sensibilities in the mid-'80s. All of This and Nothing effectively summarizes the Psychedelic Furs' evolution from a left-of-center British rock band to a stylish alternative pop act.© Michael Sutton /TiVo

The Psychedelic Furs acquired a million or so more fans in 1986 after they re-recorded their early '80s classic "Pretty in Pink" for the John Hughes box-office smash of the same name. The Top-40 success of "Heartbreak Beat" a year later took the once enigmatic new wave band further into the mainstream. 1988's All of This and Nothing is basically a tutorial for late Furs converts. The group's original followers probably have most of the lyrics memorized, but the album is an accessible and enlightening introduction to the band. "Imitation of Christ" and "Sister Europe" are from the group's self-titled 1980 debut, and their dark, ragged edges offer a glimpse of the band's less commercial younger days. On the gorgeous "Love My Way" the Furs have more of a pop flavor, giving hints at the group's subsequent transformation. It was on 1984's Mirror Moves that the Psychedelic Furs completely softened their abrasiveness and began writing warm, keyboard-laden songs. Accused of selling out at the time by diehard aficionados, the Psychedelic Furs actually improved on Mirror Moves; their music became more pleasing to the ear, as exemplified on the hauntingly beautiful ballad "The Ghost in You" and the soaring "Heaven". Richard Butler's voice remained as raspy as ever, but it took on a more romantic tone that was very appealing. 1987's ultra slick Midnight to Midnight is represented here by the aforementioned "Heartbreak Beat". "Heartbreak Beat" has silly, clichéd lyrics (i.e. "There's a heartbreak beat/And it feels like love"; nevertheless, its nonsense hooks are deliriously catchy. With ts swirling guitars and sarcastic lyrics, "All That Money Wants" was seen as a return to the Furs of old when it was included as a new track on All of This and Nothing. It's not. The tune merely combines the dissonance of their first full-length with their stronger melodic sensibilities in the mid-'80s. All of This and Nothing effectively summarizes the Psychedelic Furs' evolution from a left-of-center British rock band to a stylish alternative pop act.© Michael Sutton /TiVo

The Small Faces split from manager Don Arden to sign with Andrew Loog Oldham's Immediate label and, in retaliation, Decca and Arden rounded up the remaining recordings the group made for the label and released them as From the Beginning. Appearing just months before their Immediate debut -- entitled The Small Faces, just like their first album for Decca -- From the Beginning includes early version of "My Way of Giving" and "(Tell Me) Have You Ever Seen Me," and it reprises songs that were on the 1966 Decca LP ("Sha La La La Lee," "What'cha Gonna Do About It"), moves that muddy an already confusing situation. And From the Beginning really doesn't play as a cohesive album by any stretch of the imagination, as it opens with a burst of burgeoning psychedelia then doubles back to the group's early R&B, flaws that matter less as years pass by because, on a track by track basis, there is a lot of wondrous material here. Like many of their peers, the Small Faces began to dabble in LSD in 1967 and their sonic horizons broadened considerably, something that is evident on "My Mind's Eye," "Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow," and "That Man," swirling songs that hint at the band's developing pop inclinations without abandoning their hard R&B underpinning. Other songs -- "(Tell Me) Have You Ever Seen Me," "All or Nothing,"" "My Way of Giving"-- arrive at the midway point between the psych-pop and Mod R&B, just as the Immediate Small Faces LP would just a few weeks later, and these are nervy, energetic gems that find a nice counterpart with the pure soul songs bunched at the end. It's an odds and ends record to be sure but From the Beginning offers too much top-notch material to be dismissed; in fact, in many ways, it's a flawed gem from the swinging '60s© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

This is a debut album that hits the bullseye for a number of reasons. White Void is a project assembling musicians from various backgrounds here to rub shoulders with players on the fringes of the sonic terrain marked by their original bands. Singer Lars Nedland of the black metal scene (Solefald, Borknagar) meets drummer Tobias Solbakk (Ihsahn), bassist Vegard Kumme, from the world of electronica, and guitarist Eivind Marum, virtuoso from the realm of old-fashioned blues rock and hard rock. It’s an assemblage of bad-asses that, on paper, could have generated an unprecedented new creature, even if likely to trend into the extreme zone of music that the Norwegians practically own. But White Void decided otherwise. Yes, they’re delivering something different, but not what you might have expected. This is a tour de force that borrows as much from vintage rock as from contemporary music; in fact, it is difficult indeed to classify this album in a specific category. Sure, you can feel the hard rock side in the riffs, but the airy sounds, drowned in reverb, immediately suggest and channel in something bordering on psychedelia. Neither space rock, nor pure hard rock, a bit prog, and always catchy, Anti checks off a number of boxes without settling into any one precise style, like a group possibly ever in search of its true identity. The opposite, however, is obvious from the outset. White Void already have a style all their own, unfolded with surprising consistency throughout the album. The sublime melodic work in these eight songs is sure to draw parallels with Ghost or even some tracks by Blue Öyster Cult. Why not... But this outfit has its very own personality, reinforced by the excellent guitar work that solidifies its rock identity without ever giving in to the siren lure of the catchy chorus too easily coated with keyboards, overly polishing up the whole. Take songs like There is no Freedom but the End and The Fucking Violence of Love as the ultimate proof. There’s ample clarity in the vocals, but an ever-ready guitar lick or riff always muscles in to strengthen the entire ensemble. Even when White Void works in a few electronica elements, it’s to darken the sound or make it even more progressive, (the excellent The Air Was Thick With Smoke). Turning old-fashioned sounds into avant-garde flourishes, and alchemising vintage influences into contemporary music, this Norwegian combo has the swag to knock any listener onto his back foot. However, their collective nerve and musical mastery are sure to win you over as this devilishly convincing album unfolds its secrets. Anti is a genuine masterstroke that proves it’s still possible to surprise, using tried-and true hard rock elements prized for decades, without cloning or copying the iconic past. Already a cult fave.  © Chief Brody/Qobuz

On her fifth R&B-inflected album, British singer-songwriter Emeli Sandé makes pop music for grown-ups. "I put my heart on my wrist, don't wanna bleed no more … You can put the blame on me, I swear/ Even though it hurts, I'll still be there for you," she sings on "There For You." It is about, she has said, continuing to feel love for exes after the relationships are over. "Even if I'm pissed off with them for a couple of years, I'll always care for them, I'll always want to know they're OK. Because once you've committed to that love with someone, it doesn't just go away." Big, sweeping R&B track "All This Love" focuses on being dumped way before you're ready: "Since you stopped calling me baby/ Things have been a little bit shady/ Been jumping out of aeroplanes/ Racing in the fastest lanes," she sings, wildly self-aware but unable to control herself. "What am I supposed to do with all this love?" Sandé implores, going from curious to desperately confused to ecstatic, her voice reaching a new high plane with seemingly no choice but to spread all that love around. The title track, a swelling breakup ballad, is equally powerful. Sandé's words suggest she's wounded and taking on blame—"We could've done better/ But sooner or later/ We stopped all love letters"—but it doesn't stop her from flying to the rafters while, beneath her, crisp, cool, giant drum beats fire off shocks to the system. That drum style also carries "End of Time," a bit of gospel soul that allows Sandé to get showy with her soprano. "My Boy LIkes to Party" is adult contemporary with a nervous edge, thanks to a skittering beat and iced, machinated effects on Sandé's vocals before she leans into the interesting rushed bridge. "Lighthouse," meanwhile, eases back with tropical dub rhythms and a slow-spinning shimmer that compliments the huskier shadow of her velvet-soft voice. It's a bit Alicia Keys-esque, as is soulful piano track "Love"—which highlights Sandé's remarkable control as she impressively alternates between dove coos and strongly delivered words. There are other familiar touchstones here, too. You can imagine Beyoncé from a different era—circa B'Day, perhaps—tackling songs like "True Colours" or "Nothing We Can't Handle."  © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Coming off their work on Dntel's beautiful This Is the Dream of Evan and Chan, Jimmy Tamborello and Death Cab for Cutie's Ben Gibbard team up again for their full-length debut as Postal Service, Give Up. Instead of covering that EP's territory again, with this album the duo crafts a poppier, new wave-inflected sound that recalls Tamborello's work with Figurine more than Dntel's lovely subtlety. However, Ben Gibbard's famously bittersweet vocals and sharp, sensitive lyrics imbue Give Up with more emotional heft than you might expect from a synth pop album, especially one by a side project from musicians as busy as Tamborello and Gibbard are. The album exploits the contrast between the cool, clean synths and Gibbard's all-too-human voice to poignant and playful effect, particularly on Give Up's first two tracks. "The District Sleeps Alone" bears Gibbard's trademark songwriting, augmented by glitchy electronics and sliced-and-diced strings, while "Such Great Heights"' pretty pop could easily appear on a Death Cab for Cutie album, minus a synth or two. Despite some nods to more contemporary electronic pop, Give Up's sound is based in classic new wave and synth pop, at times resembling an indie version of New Order or the Pet Shop Boys. Songs like "Nothing Better," a duet that plays like an update on Human League's "Don't You Want Me?," and the video-game brightness of "Brand New Colony" sound overtly like the '80s brought into the present, but the tinny, preset synth and drum sounds on the entire album recall that decade. Sometimes, as on "Recycled Air" and "We Will Become Silhouettes," the retro sounds become distracting, but for the most part they add to the album's playful charm. The spooky ballad "This Place Is a Prison" is perhaps the most modern-sounding track and the closest in sound and spirit to Gibbard and Tamborello's Dntel work. The crunchy, distorted beats and sparkling synths recall both This Is the Dream of Evan and Chan and Björk's recent work; indeed, this song, along with the "All Is Full of Love" cover Death Cab included on their Stability EP, could be seen as an ongoing tribute to her. Overall, Give Up is a fun diversion for Tamborello, Gibbard, and their fans. It doesn't scale the heights of either of their main projects, but it's far more consistent and enjoyable than might be expected.© Heather Phares /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

Doubling down on the blue-eyed soul that’s always been their cornerstone, Maroon 5 up the ante on Hands All Over, stripping their rock to the bare minimum, giving every song, even the power ballads, an immaculate tight groove. It is the exact opposite move expected from the hiring of superstar producer Robert John “Mutt” Lange, the man responsible for some of the greatest hard rock and heavy metal albums in history, but Lange has a knack for focusing on the elements that define a band’s core character, and with Maroon 5 he’s realized how Adam Levine possesses a relative lack of lead singer ego. He is undoubtedly the superstar of the outfit -- the skinny pretty boy with the high voice -- but all things considered, he disappears within his band, co-writing much of the album with keyboardist Jesse Carmichael, letting the song and vibe take precedence over performance. Lange preserves this dynamic, turning Maroon 5 into a clean, efficient machine. There is no fat on Hands All Over -- in its standard edition, its 12 songs run a crisp 40 minutes, with no song cresting over the four-minute mark -- and the sound is blindingly bright, almost incandescent in its spotless surfaces. As pristine as the sound is, Hands All Over is not sterile and Lange retains the group’s sense of soul. If anything, his precision is an asset, as it not only accentuates Maroon 5’s essential character as well-tailored lovermen, his focus echoes down to the songs themselves. Some of the cuts may not sink their hooks in immediately, but track for track Hands All Over is Maroon 5’s best album, capturing their character and craft in a cool, sleek package.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Here it is: eight CDs worth of John Coltrane's classic quartet, comprised of bassist Jimmy Garrison, pianist McCoy Tyner, and drummer Elvin Jones, recorded between December of 1961 and September of 1965 when the artist followed his restless vision and expanded the band before assembling an entirely new one before his death. What transpired over the course of the eight albums and supplementary material used elsewhere is nothing short of a complete transfiguration of one band into another one, from a band that followed the leader into places unknown to one that inspired him and pushed him further. All of this transpired in the span of only three years. The group that the saxophonist had assembled for Coltrane in 1962, a band that had been together a little while and had performed together at the Village Vanguard (the tracks that include the quartet without Eric Dolphy from Impressions are here, and, in fact, the first pieces on the set are from those session dates chronologically) in a variety of settings, is almost nothing like the band that made Kulu Se Mama in 1965. For a change, the oft-employed yet irritating chronological method of compiling a box makes sense here. McCoy Tyner's piano style, that rich open-ended modal chromaticism he developed was at work on "The Inchworm," astonishingly enough the first work recorded in the 1962 studio dates. "Out of This World" was one of the last from that session that would produce the album Coltrane. The blues element that would disappear from later records -- at least consciously -- was the driving force behind ballads like "Soul Eyes" and "After the Rain." But it isn't until the latter end of 1963 that we hear the band beginning to gel into the unit that would make A Love Supreme and create the tracks that would be assembled into First Meditations for Quartet. There are the two alternate takes of "Alabama," and the soprano solo that is positively danced around by the rhythm section on "Dear Old Stockholm." There is also the great schism in Coltrane, much that took place between the June 1964 session that produced "Crescent" (and its first version is on disc eight, which is full of supplementary and unreleased material) and the following December when A Love Supreme was recorded. Here is the hinges in the whole box, the questions that need to be resolved than that this box only begs more than answers: what happened to that tight conscripted modalism Coltrane had been working on in his official releases prior to that time period as many of them hold clues but never give away the entire picture. What the box does in its voluminous way is set the record straight that there was no retrenchment in pursuant releases to A Love Supreme. There were softer moments on record, but the material in the can was far more adventurous recorded at about the same time, such as the "Suite" or "Transition" or "Dusk Dawn." Disc eight is also a treat in that it contains seven "works in progress" from all periods in the quartet's history. It begins with the aforementioned version of "Crescent," which is appreciably different than the master take in Tyner's solo particularly. There's also an incomplete though steaming initial take of "Bessie's Blues." Perhaps the most beautiful thing on the final disc is the alternate take of part II of A Love Supreme's "Resolution," with its elongated obligato by Coltrane and Tyner's gorgeous tenths playing ostinato during the saxophone solo. There's an alternate of "Feelin' Good" that's no big deal, followed by breakdowns and alternate takes of both "Dear Lord" and "Living Space," both of which reveal the harmonic development of a scale as it becomes the architectural model for the rest of the composition and improvisation. There can be no arguing the value of the originally released recordings; whether they were issued during Coltrane's lifetime or after his death, they tell a story that millions of listeners formed their impressions by, true or false, and created a legacy that lives on. But there is also something to be said for setting the record straight, and the chronological approach that this set takes in no way desecrates the integrity of the original albums themselves -- unlike the Ornette Coleman box. Simply put, it is indispensable to those who need a deeper understanding of Coltrane's music and the development of his most influential period. The sound quality is fully remastered to 20-bit technology, and the package is unwieldy but beautiful and sturdy. It's a must. © Thom Jurek /TiVo