Memoria is Trentemøller’s sixth full-length studio album since his 2006 debut. While six albums over 16 years may not seem like the most prodigious of outputs, the Danish musician has absolutely taken listeners on some expansive journeys in that time. Ratcheting up the dynamics and textures with each new album, Trentemøller has continued to get bolder and more explorative as his career has evolved. Veering from straightforward electronica to darkwave and indie atmospheres, no two of his albums have sounded exactly alike, but they've all been uniquely dedicated to unboxing the potentialities of a certain combination of mood, texture, and instrumentation. Throughout his career there have been nods toward the undeniable influence that shoegaze had on his formative years as a Gen X indie musician, but none—not even the presence of Slowdive's Rachel Goswell on his previous album, the tense and dark Obverse—have been as explicit and thorough as the overall atmosphere here. Trentemøller's roots in electronic music and post-punk coalesce with soaring gothic melodrama and the gauzy ethereality of the second wave of shoegaze; Memoria is definitely not as dark and aggressive as Obverse, but is more inchoate, and even a bit romantic. Tracks like "Glow" and "Linger" have echoey guitar lines that sound as if Trentemøller has nicked a hard drive directly from Robin Guthrie's studio, while the vocals of longtime collaborator Lisbet Fritze evoke the over-echoed breathiness of classic shoegaze vocalists. When Memoria shifts from explicit shoegaziness—as on the electronic pulse of of "Darklands" and "A Summer's Empty Room" or the M83-meets-Slowdive electro-gaze of "No More Kissing in the Rain"—its downcast, atmospheric shimmer is never lost. The two approaches merge the most successfully on the nefarious swoon of "Swaying Pine Trees" (which sounds like Trentemøller's bid for an imaginary Twin Peaks soundtrack) and "Linger," which is all half-climax and sonic spaciousness. The track is a beautiful exercise in extended dynamics and slow-motion collapse, and a perfect close to an album that is both specific in its evocations yet hard to pin down. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

Broadly speaking, Prince's musical output was almost always improved when he was collaborating with musicians who kept him on his toes creatively. The man released albums' worth of superlative material that just poured directly from his brain with no intermediation. When it comes to the work he did with his bands, there is a clear difference in quality with the Revolution, the first incarnation of the New Power Generation, and 3rdeyegirl versus what he did with other lineups, which largely consisted of highly skilled but mostly personality-free players who tended to fall in line, rather than raise the stakes or add colors to the mix. Throughout the first decade of the 21st century Prince was often surrounded by highly talented musicians who were a little too in awe of his royal badness to push him into new directions. The resulting music Prince made tended toward the clinical and anodyne, including the mediocre-to-disappointing albums Planet Earth and Musicology that consisted of boring songs played expertly. Even these albums—being Prince albums, after all—managed to each have a few spectacular moments (20Ten, while among the weakest of all Prince studio outings, still contains one of his very best ballads— "Future Soul Song.") Emerging from the vault as a relic from this era is Welcome 2 America, a putative "lost album" that Prince reportedly shelved at the last minute. (Despite his estate's insistence, there is still some debate as to whether this is actually a true "lost Prince album," as it was never mastered or given artwork at the time, and Prince would often cobble together sequences of contemporaneous songs for consideration as an album. Still, given that he booked a tour with the same name and that this sequence has a distinct consistency to its vibe and lyrical approach, it's not a stretch to take the estate at its word.) Had the album been released as a follow-up to 20Ten it would have been a welcome improvement and may have even made that lazy LP seem like a discographical aberration. However, it still suffers from many of the same faults as other Prince albums released during that era; it's an album of boring songs played expertly, punctuated by a few moments of head-spinning brilliance. Positioned as "a political album," the current-events commentary here is pretty on-the-nose, lacking any of the weird nuances of The Rainbow Children or the fiery forcefulness of later tracks like "Baltimore." (There's a George H.W. Bush reference?) Only about a third of the cuts here are actually issue-oriented, with the rest treading more familiar Prince lyrical territory. "When She Comes" makes it quite clear Prince was no longer feeling constricted by his faith regarding lasciviousness. Musically it's consistent to a fault, lacking much in the way of dynamics. Relying primarily on low-key and mid tempo grooves that vary between somnambulant and autopilot, there's not a lot here for a listener to grab onto. Some songs ("Born 2 Die" especially) even sound unfinished, while others don't even feature Prince on lead vocals. Of those, a cover of Soul Asylum's "Stand Up and Be Strong" is just baffling, with vocals given over to Elisa Dease and a slick, lifeless production that makes one wonder why it was even included. "Hot Summer" is a goofy and slight pop-rock confection that, despite being one of the few tracks to bristle with any sort of energy, is almost embarrassing to listen to. Likewise, the uptempo "Yes" tries to conjure up a Family Stone-style bit of positivity, but its cloying lyrical approach—they spell out "Y! E! S!"—is a masterclass in cringe. Much better is the spare, funky rocker "Check the Record" which, despite mostly staying in the mid tempo groove of the rest of the album, is dripping with plenty of weird, Princely touches from churning organ and overdriven guitar to stacked harmonies and playful lyrics. It's not a masterpiece by any stretch, but it's fun and a reminder that weird Prince is always the best Prince. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

Songs in the Key of Life was Stevie Wonder's longest, most ambitious collection of songs, a two-LP (plus accompanying EP) set that -- just as the title promised -- touched on nearly every issue under the sun, and did it all with ambitious (even for him), wide-ranging arrangements and some of the best performances of Wonder's career. The opening "Love's in Need of Love Today" and "Have a Talk with God" are curiously subdued, but Stevie soon kicks into gear with "Village Ghetto Land," a fierce exposé of ghetto neglect set to a satirical Baroque synthesizer. Hot on its heels comes the torrid fusion jam "Contusion," a big, brassy hit tribute to the recently departed Duke Ellington in "Sir Duke," and (another hit, this one a Grammy winner as well) the bumping poem to his childhood, "I Wish." Though they didn't necessarily appear in order, Songs in the Key of Life contains nearly a full album on love and relationships, along with another full album on issues social and spiritual. Fans of the love album Talking Book can marvel that he sets the bar even higher here, with brilliant material like the tenderly cathartic and gloriously redemptive "Joy Inside My Tears," the two-part, smooth-and-rough "Ordinary Pain," the bitterly ironic "All Day Sucker," or another classic heartbreaker, "Summer Soft." Those inclined toward Stevie Wonder the social-issues artist had quite a few songs to focus on as well: "Black Man" was a Bicentennial school lesson on remembering the vastly different people who helped build America; "Pastime Paradise" examined the plight of those who live in the past and have little hope for the future; "Village Ghetto Land" brought listeners to a nightmare of urban wasteland; and "Saturn" found Stevie questioning his kinship with the rest of humanity and amusingly imagining paradise as a residency on a distant planet. If all this sounds overwhelming, it is; Stevie Wonder had talent to spare during the mid-'70s, and instead of letting the reserve trickle out during the rest of the decade, he let it all go with one massive burst. (His only subsequent record of the '70s was the similarly gargantuan but largely instrumental soundtrack Journey Through the Secret Life of Plants.)© John Bush /TiVo

After the demise of the much-beloved Uncle Tupelo in 1994, Jeff Tweedy regrouped with three of his four bandmates as Wilco and promptly cut A.M., a debut that sounded like he had been stashing a bunch of his best songs. It was followed by the expansive and successful Being There which dropped the alt-countryisms for a more mainstream rock tone, indicating aims for a larger canvas. Those ambitions further morphed into experimental impulses on Wilco’s third album, summerteeth, signaling a band transcending genre and turning consequential. Now remastered and re-released with a selection of demos, outtakes, alternative tracks and an entire 1999 live show, summerteeth's internal churn—a pain and passion struggle between happy pop music and troubled, downbeat lyrics—begins immediately with the tuneful but bleak "Can't Stand It," where "Our prayers will never be answered again." Uncomfortable autobiography mixes with gorgeous baroque pop in "She's a Jar," where Tweedy ends with, "A pretty war/ With feelings hid/ She begs me not to hit her." Even the violins and rising chords of "A Shot in the Arm," don't hold any joy, as he wishes for "Something in my veins bloodier than blood." It would all be just scary narcissism if it wasn't for exuberant melodies like "Pieholden Suite" where a banjo flickers through before a blast of Beatles-y brass, or the jumpy Anglo-pop of "ELT." The light-dark dichotomy persists even in the album's hookiest moment, the Magical Mystery Tour-esque outtake, "Nothing'severgonnastandinmyway (Again)" where "love’s a weed" and "a kiss is all we need," but in the end, "I'm a bomb regardless." summerteeth's musical success owes much to multi-instrumentalist Jay Bennett's production and arrangement skills, and his added textures of Moog synthesizer, Farfisa organ, lap steel, drums and tambourine. In the post-Max Johnston and Ken Coomer, pre-Nils Cline and Pat Sansone version of Wilco, Bennett supplied the voltage that brought Tweedy's melodic though murky material to life. Never the excruciating struggle that the next album Yankee Hotel Foxtrot became, these are Bennett's finest moments on record, and along with Mitch Easter, he contributed to summerteeth's more defined mix and heightened sonics. While the demos are not revelatory being mostly guitar and voice—although Tweedy's dry, low tone on "Nothing'severgonnastandinmyway (Again)" is ominous—some of the alternates are choice, like the shrieking rant "Viking Dan." A funky, slow Fender Rhodes-led version of "Summer Teeth" is lounge jazz. The stripped down alternate take of "ELT" is the equal of the released take. And the "We're Just Friends / Yee Haw" soundcheck is a full tilt goof. The well-recorded live show is a telling snapshot of a band known for its roaring virtuosic performances, as they play most of their first three albums, delivering an especially strong "Passenger Side", "I Got You (At The End of the Century)" and "California Stars." A charismatic peek into an innovative, inspiring rock band evolving from eager contender to conflicted champion. © Robert Baird/Qobuz

Kris Roe, leader of the Ataris, would seem a little young for nostalgia, but So Long, Astoria (its title referring to Astoria, OR, the town in the 1985 film The Goonies) is his musical version of a memory play, a series of reflections on his youth in the late '70s and '80s. Roe, who grew up in Anderson, IN, and moved to Santa Barbara, CA, to pursue his rock & roll dreams, reminisces fondly about adolescence in songs like "Summer '79" and addresses his own young fans in "My Reply." The Ataris' fourth full-length album of new material and their major-label debut on Columbia Records, So Long, Astoria is, musically, another collection of typical speed punk tunes, virtually indistinguishable from the work of Green Day and blink-182, not to mention dozens of other similar bands. It is only Roe's lyrical identity that makes the band's songs stand out, and you only pick up on those lyrics on repeated listenings. When you do, Roe's sentimentality stands in contrast to the music's aggression, but he doesn't really have much insight into his memories. The idea of covering Don Henley's "The Boys of Summer" as a punk anthem has promise, but when Roe revises the famous line about the "Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac" by referring to Black Flag, he strikes a false note. Henley's observation was telling because it was true; Roe's is only cute because it scans. There's the problem when your memories are so infused with the movies you watched and the music you listened to -- they tend to sound secondhand. And when you set it to music already slavishly imitative of your betters, the problem is compounded.© William Ruhlmann /TiVo

"Inspired" and "heavy" are words that come to mind when taking in Dying Surfer Meets His Maker, the third long-player from Nashville's All Them Witches. In recent years, All Them Witches' live rep has become nearly mythical as they combine mercurial yet sensitive singer/songwriter lyricism, tripped-out post-psych hard blues, and stoner rock metallic thud. The album was recorded in an isolated cabin on a Pigeon Forge, Tennessee hilltop overlooking Dollywood far below. It was cut mostly live from the floor by Mikey Allred, with overdubs added later. One song opens onto another as it unfolds into a labyrinthine, head-expanding ride. On "Call Me Star," gently fingerpicked acoustic guitars are adorned by a weeping slide; snares and tom-toms frame bassist Charles Michael Parks, Jr.'s lonesome, from-the-void vocal, which recalls prime Robert Plant. The restraint gives way to a spacy rockist vibe, but never loses its rootsy feel. A basic one-chord electric guitar vamp introduces the massive "El Centro." It quickly gives way to a massive blown-out bassline from Parks. Ben McLeod's wiry fuzz guitars and Robby Staebler's rolling drums add punch and urgency. (Few bands know how to make use of a really good drummer; All Them Witches have that down cold.) Squalling guitars rife with feedback and tense rhythms à la Loop mesh with the heavy, hard, and head-nodding plod of Sleep. Eight minutes feels like half an hour as time and space slip the ropes. By contrast, the cut-time "Dirt Preachers" is a brief wonky 12-bar punk blues with metal guitar vamps. The great Mickey Raphael guests on "This Is Where It Falls Apart," a snail-paced psychedelic blues delivered with tense restraint and colored with dubwise effects. On "Open Passageways," Staebler's declamatory drumming (which recalls the earthiness of Otha Turner's Rising Star Fife & Drum Band with the dark authority of Led Zeppelin's "When the Levee Breaks") gradually extends to Allan Van Cleave's melodic old-world violin break before the entire band erects a doomy climatic architecture. "Talisman" commences as Americana fare, but at over six minutes dissolves into a trance inducer of roiling drums and snaky, overdriven guitars and bass. Everything is on stun. Van Cleave's Fender Rhodes is the only thing binding it to the earth. At first, "Blood & Sand/Milk & Endless Waters" sounds like a cyclic return to "This Is Where It Falls Apart," but its fuzzed-out rolling thunder brings in the heaviness of "El Centro" too. The jam comes into its own when layers of fiddle and silvery blues guitar ripple forth before Staebler's fat, grooving drums help rock it to a close. Dying Surfer Meets His Maker showcases All Them Witches in complete control of their songwriting, arranging, producing, and performing. Slow-burning albums that provide this much weight, creativity, surprise, and enduring pleasure are rare.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

ABBA's final album was recorded during a period of major personal shakeups, principally in the decision by Benny Andersson and Frida to follow the same route to divorce that had already been taken by Björn Ulvaeus and Agnetha Faltskog. Both male members of the group would soon remarry, but at the time, despite all of these changes in their circumstances, The Visitors was never intended as ABBA's swan song -- they were to go on recording together. That may explain why, rather than a threadbare, thrown-together feel, The Visitors is a beautifully made, very sophisticated album, filled with serious but never downbeat songs, all beautifully sung and showing off some of the bold songwriting efforts. The title track is a topical song about Soviet dissidents that also manages to be very catchy, while "I Let the Music Speak" sounds like a Broadway number (and a very good one, at that) in search of a musical to be part of, and "When All Is Said and Done" is a serious, achingly beautiful ballad with a lot to say about their personal situations -- even "Two for the Price of One," a lighthearted song sung by Björn Ulvaeus about answering a personal advertisement, offered several catchy hooks and beautiful backup singing. "Like an Angel Passing Through My Room" ended the original album on a hauntingly ethereal note, but not as any kind of larger statement about the quartet's fate. The intention was to keep working together, but Andersson and Ulvaeus' growing involvement with their stage project, Chess, prevented any further work together by the group beyond three songs, "The Day Before You Came," "Cassandra," and "Under Attack" -- they're all present as bonus tracks on the 2001 remastered edition (in gatefold packaging), along with the orphaned B-side "Should I Laugh or Cry" from the same sessions as The Visitors, and only add to the appeal of the original album.© Bruce Eder /TiVo

Judged against Kiss' previous Alive! albums, Alive III doesn't hold up particularly well. Instead of relying on raw energy and ridiculous but dynamic showmanship, the band plays like the professionals they are, performing a competent set that never catches fire. However, if Alive III is judged against Kiss' late-'80s and early-'90s records, it holds up very well. By cutting away the filler that plagued their studio records, the band is left with a consistently entertaining batch of songs served up with style. It might not be as exciting as the first two Alive albums, but Alive III provides more thrills than most of the group's records of the previous decade.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo