Celebrating 25 years since they formed, Teenage Wildlife brings together a selection of Ash's biggest hits. Included are songs from across their studio output, including tracks such as "Kung Fu," "Girl from Mars," and "Shining Light."© TiVo

The late Roy Buchanan is a sadly underrated cult figure in the world of hard rock guitar. His aggressive attack, soulful selection of notes, and general playing attitude made him one of the most respected players of his generation. With heavy competition from musicians such as Eric Clapton, Duane Allman, and Jimi Hendrix, this is quite a feat. That's What I Am Here For, one of his earlier Polydor albums, illustrates all of the above artists in fine style. The extended reading of "Hey Joe" is enough to seal Buchanan's reputation, with some lightning fast and super heavy blues runs. Overall, the album suffers from some weak songwriting, but there are some gems, such as an extremely sad "Home Is Where I Lost Her," a tale of the death of a lady friend. Billy Price's vocals are a bit mannered and somewhat dated, but effective nonetheless. Another of the album's highlights is "Rodney's Song," a soulful Southern rocker that would have been at home on an early Allman Brothers album. Buchanan really rips on this one, and proves what an awesome player he really was.© Matthew Greenwald /TiVo

Just prior to forming the Experience, Jimi Hendrix hit hard times. He had pawned his guitar and was living in a New York City hotel, which is where he met Curtis Knight, a soul singer who worked the local Harlem circuit with his band the Squires. Knight gave Hendrix a spare six-string and brought him into the Squires, where he was soon ushered into the studio to record the single "How Would You Feel." There, Jimi met record man Ed Chalpin, who insisted Hendrix sign a record contract prior to the start of the session. The guitarist later claimed he thought he was signing onto a role as a mere sideman but the contract tied him to Chalpin's PPX Records, a situation that became problematic once Chas Chandler signed Hendrix to a contract in 1966. Once Are You Experienced? became an international hit, Chalpin came calling to collect his share and this is where things got complicated. Lawsuits came down the pike yet Jimi kept heading back into the studio to jam with Knight, all the while claiming he was doing this while not under contract. Whether he was right or not would be a matter for the courts, but it did give Chalpin more music to peddle to other labels -- which he did, striking a deal with Capitol to release an album called Get That Feeling in December 1967 so it could capitalize on the sales of Are You Experienced? Get That Feeling was the first of what turned out to be countless repackagings of the PPX material, most passed off as a genuine Hendrix record so the label could hoodwink unsuspecting fans. Legacy's 2015 release You Can't Use My Name: The RSVP/PPX Sessions is the first legitimate compilation to place these pre-fame Hendrix recordings in the proper context, annotated by John McDermott, containing all the original, un-overdubbed masters, including an audio snippet where Jimi insists to Chalpin that his name cannot be used upon release. Presenting these fly-by-night singles and late-night jams as archival material instead of a quickie for suckers elevates the music slightly, forcing the listener to tackle this grooving soul as formative Hendrix work. He's not the problem with these sides by any means. Riding the rhythms with more energy than the drummer and sliding into liquid leads, Jimi is what captures the attention and his first stabs at composing -- not so much the instrumental "Knock Yourself Out," but rather the fuzzy, furious "Hornet's Nest" and bright, danceable "Station Break" -- point the way toward his work with the Experience. Knight, however, isn't a compelling leader, although he does work hard, rewriting Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone" as a black rock protest song called "How Would You Feel" and swinging along with "Gotta Have a New Dress." Elsewhere, he either fades into the background or simply isn't present, and the rest of the Squires are at his level. Undoubtedly, the star attraction is Jimi Hendrix and even if this is formative, it's fascinating in context -- and that context is what You Can't Use My Name finally provides.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Joseph Arthur was well aware of the expectations and potential pitfalls of recording a Lou Reed tribute album. It wasn't even his idea. When it was pitched to him by Vanguard A&R man Bill Bentley in November 2013, mere weeks after Reed's death, he only very reluctantly agreed to consider the idea. Reed had befriended the New York-based Arthur in the mid-'90s just as his career was beginning to blossom with release of his 1997 debut on Peter Gabriel's Real World label (Reed even took him out for ice cream after signing to celebrate the feat). Sixteen years and ten albums later, a tour-hardened veteran Arthur returned home after weeks on the road to attend his friend's final tribute show at the Apollo Theater and decided to try out a few songs at his home studio using only acoustic guitar and piano. Taking a simplistic approach to Reed's songs was the only way to make this album work. Reed's best music was subtle in that way with phrases and arrangements boiled down to their minimalist essence. He often made huge statements with his understatement and unwavering attitude. Bravely taking on some of the best-known cuts from Reed's canon, Arthur strips songs like "Heroin," "Satellite of Love," and even "Walk on the Wild Side" down, interpreting them honestly and organically with his expressive, embattled voice. There is obvious respect and reverence for the material and for Reed's style, but Arthur is also his own artist with a great body of work and years of touring to his credit. He manages to get lost in these familiar songs without becoming too subservient to their original versions or feeling the need to veer too far from them in order to make his statement. His versions of "Sword of Damocles," "Coney Island Baby," and "Dirty Blvd." are all tactfully handled, receiving more of a wistful reinterpretation than a showboating reinvention. A less experienced artist might not have been so reserved, but the veteran Arthur knows how to treat a song, whether it be his own material or something as iconic as the Velvet Underground's "Stephanie Says." As a tribute, Lou is deftly made and should please, or at the very least fail to offend, Lou Reed fans. As a Joseph Arthur album, it's a nice comedown from 2013's massive, lushly produced double album The Ballad of Boogie Christ. It has the organic purity of an acoustic (American Recordings-era) Rick Rubin production, but sonically falls more in line with something like Robyn Hitchcock's Eye, with its rough edges, beautifully rickety harmonies, and homemade charm. It has the shared benefit of coming across as both an honestly intended tribute to an artistic mentor as well as another well-made record in Arthur's impressive catalog.© Timothy Monger /TiVo