Although they are still the U.K.'s most vital punk band, Idles are on fire, not just in terms of their productivity -- four albums in four years -- or their renewed vigor, but also off the back of their first lukewarm record, Ultra Mono. However, it's terribly on-brand for Idles to not go gentle, and Crawler is nothing if not rage against the dying of the light. After sensing that their sound was becoming stale, Idles' fourth album sees the band exploring several new avenues at once. The need to evolve is true of any artist, but many don't take the leap for fear of the risks. Crawler, then, defaults to their most daring album to date, as it incorporates elements of electronic music, noise rock, soul, and 2000s indie. It's also their densest record, with generally more obscured themes and more nuance than ever before -- clearly made in response to the broadness of previous material. Despite some missteps, Ultra Mono only furthered their assent and stature, allowing the band to feel untethered from genre conventions and free to explore. They drive this home immediately, with the opening track "MTT 420 RR" bucking the trend of explosive openers in favor of subtle swirling electronics, which build upon themselves in interesting ways. Of course, they're attempting to straddle both old and new, so it leads into "The Wheel," which is more in line with their explosive reputation, even if the instrumentation is meatier. Yet another side of the album reveals itself in "When the Lights Come On," which features a spectral guitar line reminiscent of Kings of Leon's "Knocked Up." With half their hand on the table they settle into familiar and often uninspiring territory, that is until lead track "Beachland Ballroom." Although not their first foray into soulful territory -- after covering Solomon Burke's "Cry to Me" -- the track is a clear highlight, demonstrating how compatible this approach is; Talbot's personal struggle to keep moving forward makes for a bittersweet listen, deftly proving his melodic range and underlining how good Idles can be when they show relative restraint. The back half of the record is very scattershot, but consistently surprising, featuring an ambient interlude ("Kelechi"), a beautifully ethereal soundscape that erupts into synth and bass stabs ("Progress"), and a burst of hardcore punk ("Wizz"). The anthemic closer "The End" reaffirms that this is still Idles, acting as a not-so-gentle reminder that when the big guns are necessary, they can still raise the roof. It's great to see so many new ideas from a band who flirted with stagnation, a point only exemplified by the weakest songs being the ones that stick closest to their old formula. It makes Crawler more than just a course correction; it has the potential to open the door to the Idles multiverse, where multiple versions of the band co-exist. Whilst it doesn't always stick the landing, the new spaces it does explore are well worth the journey. © Liam Martin /TiVo

Like 1970's McCartney, 1980's McCartney II functioned as a way for Paul McCartney to clear the decks: to experiment and recalibrate in the aftermath of his band falling apart. This means 1982's Tug of War is, in many ways, the very first Paul McCartney solo album, a record recorded not at home but in a studio, a record made without Wings and not co-credited to Linda, who nevertheless is present as a backing vocalist. McCartney recognized this album as something of a major opportunity, so he revived his relationship with Beatles producer George Martin and brought in several heavy-hitters as guests, including his hero Carl Perkins, his Motown counterpart Stevie Wonder, fusion star Stanley Clarke, prog rock refugees Eric Stewart and Andy Mackay, and his old bandmate Ringo Starr, whose presence was overshadowed by "Here Today," an elegy written for the murdered John Lennon. Tucked away at the end of the first side, "Here Today" is bittersweet and small when compared to all the show pieces elbowing each other for attention throughout Tug of War: the grave march of the title track, the vaudevillian "Ballroom Dancing," the stately drama of "Wanderlust," and sincere schmaltz of "Ebony and Ivory," the Wonder duet that helped turn this album into the blockbuster it was intended to be. As good as some of these numbers are -- and they are, bearing an ambition and execution that outstrips latter-day Wings -- much of the charm of Tug of War lies in the excess around the edges, whether it's the rockabilly lark of the Perkins duet "Get It," the later-period Beatles whimsy of '"The Pound Is Sinking," the electro-throwaway "Dress Me Up as a Robber," or the long, electro-funk workout of "What's That You're Doing?," a track that's a fuller collaboration between Paul and Stevie than "Ebony and Ivory." Such crowd-pleasing genre-hopping finds its apotheosis on "Take It Away," a salute to eager performers and the crowds who love them, which means it summarizes not only the appeal of Tug of War in general -- it is, by design, a record that gives the people old Beatle Paul -- but McCartney in general. © Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Like 1970's McCartney, 1980's McCartney II functioned as a way for Paul McCartney to clear the decks: to experiment and recalibrate in the aftermath of his band falling apart. This means 1982's Tug of War is, in many ways, the very first Paul McCartney solo album, a record recorded not at home but in a studio, a record made without Wings and not co-credited to Linda, who nevertheless is present as a backing vocalist. McCartney recognized this album as something of a major opportunity, so he revived his relationship with Beatles producer George Martin and brought in several heavy-hitters as guests, including his hero Carl Perkins, his Motown counterpart Stevie Wonder, fusion star Stanley Clarke, prog rock refugees Eric Stewart and Andy Mackay, and his old bandmate Ringo Starr, whose presence was overshadowed by "Here Today," an elegy written for the murdered John Lennon. Tucked away at the end of the first side, "Here Today" is bittersweet and small when compared to all the show pieces elbowing each other for attention throughout Tug of War: the grave march of the title track, the vaudevillian "Ballroom Dancing," the stately drama of "Wanderlust," and sincere schmaltz of "Ebony and Ivory," the Wonder duet that helped turn this album into the blockbuster it was intended to be. As good as some of these numbers are -- and they are, bearing an ambition and execution that outstrips latter-day Wings -- much of the charm of Tug of War lies in the excess around the edges, whether it's the rockabilly lark of the Perkins duet "Get It," the later-period Beatles whimsy of '"The Pound Is Sinking," the electro-throwaway "Dress Me Up as a Robber," or the long, electro-funk workout of "What's That You're Doing?," a track that's a fuller collaboration between Paul and Stevie than "Ebony and Ivory." Such crowd-pleasing genre-hopping finds its apotheosis on "Take It Away," a salute to eager performers and the crowds who love them, which means it summarizes not only the appeal of Tug of War in general -- it is, by design, a record that gives the people old Beatle Paul -- but McCartney in general. © Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Producer and songwriter Waldeck takes his listeners on a musical journey through the past and present on his 2007 album Ballroom Stories. Dominated by jazzy instrumental structures and the vocal stylings of Joy Malcolm, Ballroom Stories is electronic dance music designed to evoke the sounds and moods of the 1920s, when glamour and intrigue walked hand in hand at dance halls and speakeasies. © Mark Deming /TiVo

The idea of a live album as a documentary is a naïvely outdated one. For decades, fans have understood that, if one wanted to hear a tip-to-tail, warts-and-all live performance by one of their favorite musicians, a bootleg would be just about the only way, since the "live" albums typically released by most acts were usually cobbled together from multiple performances (and sometimes even across multiple tours). This state of affairs means that while these releases are providing a simulacrum of the live experience, they never exactly transport the listener to any fixed place in time. Thankfully, though, "official bootlegs" like those being released as part of the Bear's Sonic Journals series are not just providing historical documentation of a specific concert, but also a more fully immersive listening experience. After all, as it turns out, those "warts and all" that get removed in the overdub-and-edit process of many live albums are what can make them so vital and exciting. Most well-known as the sound engineer (and LSD purveyor) for the Grateful Dead, Owsley "Bear" Stanley also recorded hundreds of performances by other acts who performed in San Francisco. Stanley's approach to live audio was revolutionary at the time, constantly iterating and optimizing both the in-room amplification and the mixing (and, by extension, recording) process, in the pursuit of a multi-sensory experience for a concert's attendees. And while the recordings he made were largely a byproduct of his optimization, the resultant archives have turned out to be an extensive documentation of Bay Area concerts during the heyday of the counterculture's most expansive period, which wasn’t just limited to rock 'n' roll. Bluegrass bands, country acts, Indian classical masters, jazz artists, and more provided sonic counterpoints to the psychedelia that dominated the scene. This particular set—recorded a few months after Cash's legendary show at Folsom Prison, but a few weeks before the (edited and polished) live album of that set was released—is just one of those sonic counterpoints. Even though Cash tosses a couple of nods to his Haight Ashbury audience with some Dylan covers in the set list and a shoutout to Gordon Lightfoot who is in the crowd, the set is largely in line with what he was performing across the country at the time. That said, it's an absolutely rollicking set, with an incredible amount of energy and dynamism, even in the quieter, more pensive moments. Jamming 28 tracks into just over an hour, Cash and the Tennessee Three are absolutely in prime form here, barrelling through a wide range of material that ironically gives lost cuts like "The Ballad of Ira Hayes" more breathing room than a 90-second version of "Ring of Fire." The sonics are enveloping, dynamic and holistic, favoring clarity and immersion over separation and perfection (although the harmonica just pops out of the mix on "Orange Blossom Special"), and even though the mid-show June Carter portion is truncated a bit due to a tape change, this recording absolutely puts the listener in the middle of the room, right alongside the hootin' and hollerin' crowd of hippies. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

Drawing from all over the musical spectrum, Frisell selects drummer Jim Keltner (best known for his records with George Harrison, Eric Clapton and other rock stars) and bassist Viktor Krauss (a fixture in Lyle Lovett's country band), and comes up with an immensely likable, easy-grooving CD that defies one to put a label on it. If anything, Frisell leans toward a drawling country twang heavily indebted to Chet Atkins in his guitar work here, but there is a freewheeling jazz sensibility at work on every track. Keltner contributes the heavy rock element with his emphatic strokes, occasionally pushing Frisell in that direction on the title track and the lengthy "Lookout for Hope." Yet Keltner is also capable of surprising subtlety, and Krauss provides firm, unflashy underpinning. Above all, this is thoughtful, free-thinking, ear-friendly jamming that was recorded in bustling Burbank, CA. but sounds as if it was laid down in a relaxed cabin in the hills.© Richard S. Ginell /TiVo

Not many rock bands are still exploring new ideas after their 30th album, but Guided by Voices are not like many other bands. Though the lineup of GbV present on 2022's prog rock-meets-power pop outing Tremblers and Goggles by Rank had only been together since 2017, the album was their 13th release in that short time, with the unmistakable vocals and crooked hooks of founding member Robert Pollard steering the songs down new, weird paths. La La Land is a continuation of Tremblers and Goggles by Rank's expansive construction, moving further away from the patented short, sharp pop that GbV made their name on in the '90s and opting for relatively longer song lengths, more complex song structures, and a generally more angular side of the band. Where the last album jumped right into towering prog rock, La La Land takes a little longer to get there. Opener "Another Day to Heal" is a driving banger, made up of crunchy drums and huge power chords and flying by in under two minutes. Pollard applies his mystical melodic style to the jangly sway of "Released into Dementia" and the Beatles-informed harmonies of "Ballroom Etiquette" before blasting off into unknown dimensions with more intricately designed tracks like "Instinct Dwelling." Moments like the winding, six-minute epic "Slowly on the Wheel" or ominous intro of "Wild Kingdom" aren't quite like anything GbV has attempted before, which is saying something for a band with hundreds and hundreds of songs in their catalog. La La Land strikes a nice balance between more adventurous experiments with new styles and tunes like "Caution Song" and tracks such as the starkly beautiful "Queen of Spaces" that call on the fractured pop brilliance of the group's best-known earlier material. La La Land captures the incredibly rare state of a band still sounding fresh and curious on their 37th LP, and shows no indication of Pollard and co. stopping anytime soon.© Fred Thomas /TiVo

The consummate power trio of the '90s, Gov't Mule drew on influences from Mountain and Cream to the Jimi Hendrix Experience. This, the band's second album, was recorded live in concert with no overdubs, and it rocks hard. Warren Haynes and Allen Woody pull their experiences from several years with the Allman Brothers Band into the mix and turn out one impressive record. Highlights include the rock radio track "Mule" and "Kind of Bird," co-written by Dickey Betts of the Allmans, a song that was still in the Allmans' set list at the end of the '90s.© Michael B. Smith /TiVo

The Academy Award-nominated The Witches of Eastwick captures composer John Williams at his most rapturous and playful, brilliantly communicating the sinister seductiveness of the Devil (played by Jack Nicholson) as he wreaks romantic havoc on the desperate housewives of a picturesque New England hamlet. Williams' score is romantic yet dark, its swelling strings underlined by a vague but palpable sense of menace. At the same time, however, The Witches of Eastwick is an archly comedic effort, embracing everything from wry satire to pure camp. (At one point in the film, Nicholson's Daryl Van Horne even whistles his own Williams-penned theme song.) Taken as a whole, it represents Williams' most complete and imaginative comedic score, with none of the heavy-handed whimsy of better-known works like Home Alone.© Jason Ankeny /TiVo