Simon & Garfunkel's first masterpiece, Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme was also the first album on which the duo, in tandem with engineer Roy Halee, exerted total control from beginning to end, right down to the mixing, and it is an achievement akin to the Beatles' Revolver or the Beach Boys' Pet Sounds album, and just as personal and pointed as either of those records at their respective bests. After the frantic rush to put together an LP in just three weeks that characterized the Sounds of Silence album early in 1966, Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme came together over a longer gestation period of about three months, an uncommonly extended period of recording in those days, but it gave the duo a chance to develop and shape the songs the way they wanted them. The album opens with one of the last vestiges of Paul Simon's stay in England, "Scarborough Fair/Canticle" -- the latter was the duo's adaptation of a centuries-old English folk song in an arrangement that Simon had learned from Martin Carthy. The two transformed the song into a daunting achievement in the studio, however, incorporating myriad vocal overdubs and utilizing a harpsichord, among other instruments, to embellish it, and also wove into its structure Simon's "The Side of a Hill," a gentle antiwar song that he had previously recorded on The Paul Simon Songbook in England. The sonic results were startling on their face, a record that was every bit as challenging in its way as "Good Vibrations," but the subliminal effect was even more profound, mixing a hauntingly beautiful antique melody, and a song about love in a peaceful, domestic setting, with a message about war and death; Simon & Garfunkel were never as political as, say, Peter, Paul & Mary or Joan Baez, but on this record they did bring the Vietnam war home. The rest of the album was less imposing but just as beguiling -- audiences could revel in the play of Simon's mind (and Simon & Garfunkel's arranging skills) and his sense of wonder (and frustration) on "Patterns," and appreciate the sneering rock & roll-based social commentary "The Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine." Two of the most beautiful songs ever written about the simple joys of living, the languid "Cloudy" and bouncy "The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin' Groovy)," were no less seductive, and the album also included "Homeward Bound," their Top Five hit follow-up to "The Sound of Silence," which had actually been recorded at the sessions for that LP. No Simon & Garfunkel song elicits more difference of opinion than "The Dangling Conversation," making its LP debut here -- one camp regards it as hopelessly pretentious and precious in its literary name-dropping and rich string orchestra accompaniment, while another holds it as a finely articulate account of a couple grown distant and disconnected through their intellectual pretensions; emotionally, it is definitely the precursor to the more highly regarded "Overs" off the next album, and it resonated well on college campuses at the time, evoking images of graduate school couples drifting apart, but for all the beauty of the singing and the arrangement, it also seemed far removed from the experience of teenagers or any listeners not living a life surrounded by literature ("couplets out of rhyme" indeed!), and understandably only made the Top 30 on AM radio. "For Emily, Whenever I May Find Her" was a romantic idyll that presented Art Garfunkel at his most vulnerable sounding, anticipating such solo releases of his as "All I Know," while "Flowers Never Bend With the Rainfall" was Simon at his most reflectively philosophical, dealing with age and its changes much as "Patterns" dealt with the struggle to change, with a dissonant note (literally) at the end that anticipated the style of the duo's next album. "A Simple Desultory Philippic," which also started life in England more than a year earlier, was the team's Dylanesque fuzz tone-laden jape at folk-rock, and a statement of who they weren't, and remains, alongside Peter, Paul & Mary's "I Dig Rock & Roll Music," one of the best satires of its kind. And the last of Simon's English-period songs, "A Poem on the Underground Wall," seemed to sum up the tightrope walk that the duo did at almost every turn on this record at this point in their career -- built around a beautiful melody and gorgeous hooks, it was, nonetheless, a study in personal privation and desperation, the "sound of silence" heard from the inside out, a voice crying out. Brilliantly arranged in a sound that was as much rock as film music, but with the requisite acoustic guitars, and displaying a dazzling command and range of language, it could have ended the album. Instead, the duo offered "7 O'Clock News/Silent Night," a conceptual work that was a grim and ironic (and prophetic) comment on the state of the United States in 1966. In retrospect, it dated the album somewhat, but that final track, among the darkest album-closers of the 1960s, also proved that Simon & Garfunkel weren't afraid to get downbeat as well as serious for a purpose. Overall, Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme was the duo's album about youthful exuberance and alienation, and it proved perennially popular among older, more thoughtful high-school students and legions of college audiences across generations. [The August 2001 reissue offers not only the best sound ever heard on this album in any incarnation, but also a few bonuses -- a slightly extended mastering of "Cloudy" that gives the listener a high-harmony surprise in its fade; and, as actual bonus tracks, Simon's solo demos of "Patterns" and "A Poem on the Underground Wall." Raw and personal, they're startling in their intimacy and their directness, and offer a more intimate view of Paul Simon, the artist, than ever seen.]© Bruce Eder /TiVo

Widely considered as one of the greatest and most important rap albums of all time, The Notorious B.I.G.'s Ready To Die is an indisputable masterpiece and one of the cornerstones of East Coast rap. Released by Sean "Puffy" Combs' Bad Boy Records in September, 1994, Biggie's debut album paved the way for countless future stars and signalled the beginning of an East Coast revival. Coming straight from the streets of Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn, The Notorious B.I.G. paints a picture of the darker, criminal side of early '90s New York, drawing mainly from personal experience. In contrast to the West Coast glamorization and glorification of the criminal lifestyle, Ready To Die includes tracks which give a brutally honest account of a crook’s life on the streets, something which helped Biggie gain the respect of the masses. The album also explores some of the rapper’s deeper and more troubling thoughts and emotions with tracks such as "Everyday Struggle" and the distressing late night phone call of "Suicidal Thoughts". The album’s lead single, "Juicy", went gold just over three months after its release, with following singles "Big Poppa" and "One More Chance" both certified platinum less than a year later. These three tracks signaled the arrival of the artist the East Coast had been waiting for to lead the charge against the West Coast dominance started by Dr. Dre and co. As well as telling the story of the streets, Biggie spends parts of the album explaining how his focus on music was a way for him to take a step back from the criminal lifestyle, something he demonstrates on "Machine Gun Funk" with the lyrics "Left the drugs alone, took the thugs along with me" and "I’m doing rhymes now, f*** the crimes now." However, the album also makes it clear that despite turning over a new leaf, it can be hard for someone who once had "a key knee deep in the crack game" ("Things Done Changed") to cut all ties with their past life. "Warning" documents a robbery attempt by two men who had heard of the known ex-drug dealer’s rise to the top of the rap game, and ends with Biggie firing two fatal shots, a poetic way of conveying the difficulty the rapper had in distancing himself from street life. Never shying away from telling his own story, "Respect" sees Biggie map out his turbulent life for us, from birth to dope smoking teen, drug dealer, convict, and finally rap sensation. With its old school loops and lucid yet humorous lyrics, Ready To Die cemented itself in rap folklore and marked the start of a career that was tragically ended far too soon with the rapper’s shooting in March, 1997. © Euan Decourt / Qobuz

From the outset, Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazelwood were a match made in heaven. Their pop hit These Boots Are Made For Walkin’ (1966) was so huge that it occasionally overshadows their other incredible creations, such as Jackson, Sand, Summer Wine and You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin’ (songs which would later feature on Nancy & Lee, the incredible album that brought together the brilliant Oklahoma producer and Frank Sinatra’s daughter). It was a winning combination: his baritone voice that mixed rock, country, jazz, pop and easy listening, and her sexy, wide-ranging vocals, full of charisma. However, the duo’s momentum was cut short when Hazelwood suddenly moved to Sweden without explanation… When the pair finally returned to the studio in 1972, the world had moved on; nobody was expecting anything from them anymore. The charts were now obsessed with electronic sounds, making Lee Hazelwood’s baroque-esque symphonies seem out of touch, even antiquated. Despite this, Nancy & Lee Again (finally reissued and remastered by the label Light in the Attic) remains a masterpiece that desperately deserves to be (re)discovered. It’s got all the duo’s signature sounds; they’re just more luxurious, more spectacular and more dramatic. This reissue is proof that more really is more! From the opening track Arkansas Coal, Hazlewood creates a stunning cinematographic setting with meticulous and fascinating arrangements. Even the lyrics display real ambition, tackling the suffering of single mothers (the beautiful cover of Dolly Parton’s masterpiece, Down From Dover), and the uneasiness felt by veterans of the Vietnam War, which was still raging at the time of the initial release (Congratulations). With its magnificent orchestral arrangements featuring Larry Muhoberac (a member of Elvis Presley’s band TCB, who also worked with Barbra Streisand, Neil Diamond and Lalo Schifrin) and Clark Gassman (who worked with Hazlewood on the 1970 album Cowboy in Sweden), Nancy & Lee Again will age like fine wine. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

The soundtrack to Mike Nichols' The Graduate remains a key musical document of the late '60s, although truth be told, its impact was much less artistic than commercial (and, for that matter, more negative than positive). With the exception of its centerpiece track, the elegiac and oft-quoted "Mrs. Robinson" -- which only appears here as a pair of fragments -- the Simon & Garfunkel songs that comprise much of the record (a series of Dave Grusin instrumentals round it out) appeared on the duo's two preceding LPs; Nichols' masterstroke was to transplant those songs into his film, where they not only meshed perfectly with the story's themes of youthful rebellion and alienation (and the inner life of the central character, Dustin Hoffman's Benjamin Braddock) but also heralded a new era in movie music centered around the appropriation of past pop hits, a marketing gimmick that grew exponentially in the years to follow. The Graduate soundtrack, then, merits the dubious honor of being the earliest and one of the most successful Hollywood repackagings of "found" pop songs, a formula essentially based around coercing fans to purchase soundtrack albums filled with material they already own in order to acquire the occasional new track or two. The album began its life because of Nichols' enthusiasm for the duo's music, and Columbia Records chief Clive Davis' ability to persuade the pair of the importance of a soundtrack LP. Davis turned the actual making of the album over to producer Teo Macero, who approached it with skepticism -- Paul Simon and Mike Nichols had discovered that they really weren't on the same page, with Nichols rejecting "Overs" and "Punky's Dilemma," songs that ended up as highlights of the Bookends album, issued two months after The Graduate soundtrack. Thus, there wasn't enough Simon & Garfunkel material to fill even one LP side, and only about eight minutes of that were "new" recordings, and barely a quarter of that (the "Mrs. Robinson" fragments) new song material. And there also wasn't enough of David Grusin's instrumental music (none of which meshed with the duo's work) for an album. Macero combined this material into a musically awkward LP that somehow did its job -- which, in Davis' eyes, was to introduce Simon & Garfunkel's music to the parents of their existing audience (topping the charts in the bargain, and turning Grusin's "Sunporch Cha-Cha-Cha" into a favorite of easy listening stations). Fans of Simon & Garfunkel likely felt cheated by the presence of the "Mrs. Robinson" fragments, as well as repeats of the 1966-vintage "The Sound of Silence" and "April Come She Will," and an edited extension of "Scarborough Fair/Canticle." But there were two curiosities for the completist -- a high-wattage, edited rendition of "The Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine" (in a style seemingly parodying the sound of Bob Dylan's Highway 61 Revisited); and a gentle, subdued acoustic reprise of "The Sound of Silence," which was possibly the best studio rendition the duo ever gave of the song.© Jason Ankeny & Bruce Eder /TiVo

Though probably nobody fully appreciated it at the time -- perhaps least of all the band! -- Depeche Mode's debut is at once both a conservative, functional pop record and a groundbreaking release. While various synth pioneers had come before -- Gary Numan, early Human League, late-'70s Euro-disco, and above all Kraftwerk all had clear influence on Speak & Spell -- Depeche became the undisputed founder of straight-up synth pop with the album's 11 songs, light, hooky, and danceable numbers about love, life, and clubs. For all the claims about "dated" '80s sounds from rock purists, it should be noted that the basic guitar/bass/drums lineup of rock is almost 25 years older than the catchy keyboard lines and electronic drums making the music here. That such a sound would eventually become ubiquitous during the Reagan years, spawning lots of crud along the way, means the band should no more be held to blame for that than Motown and the Beatles for inspiring lots of bad stuff in the '60s. Credit for the album's success has to go to main songwriter Vince Clarke, who would extend and arguably perfect the synth pop formula with Yazoo and Erasure; the classic early singles "New Life," "Dreaming of Me," and "Just Can't Get Enough," along with numbers ranging from the slyly homoerotic "Pretty Boy" to the moody thumper "Photographic," keep everything moving throughout. David Gahan undersings about half the album, and Martin Gore's two numbers lack the distinctiveness of his later work, but Speak & Spell remains an undiluted joy.© Ned Raggett /TiVo

The story started ten years ago for Florence + The Machine with the single Kiss with a Fist that revealed a certain feminism and a strong personality. For her fourth album High as Hope, the English singer steps into the big league with a unique pop that borrows from rock as well as baroque arrangements. She produced this latest creation herself, with the support from Emile Haynie who has produced the likes of Bruno Mars, Eminem and Kid Cudi. Needless to say, Florence Welch bet on the right horse! Her extraordinary voice reaches new heights on High As Hope. She effortlessly navigates between melancholy and reveries. She alternates between sweet lyric vocalizations and disturbing throat cries! A piano sounds the death knell on Big God, then a whole orchestra comes to life on No Choir. With the strings, keyboards and two talented guests, Sampha and The xx’s Jamie xx, the intensity is at its height. Welch uses her music to create a wild and fantastic world, in which the listeners can truly lose themselves. Throughout the album’s ten tracks, she deals with a general theme about her relationship to art and the voids it filled in her life. Voids created by her dyslexia, anorexia, as well as her addictive personality and disturbed sexuality. Hypersensitive, Florence manages to give birth to a tough and strong creation charged with emotions, and affirms her dual character, both vulnerable and dominant. © Anna Coluthe/Qobuz

Originally released in 1997 as a 4-CD box set, the Flaming Lips’ Zaireeka is the ultimate communal listening experience.  Each disc, composed of eight tracks with identical run times, is intended to be played simultaneously on four separate audio systems.  While any number of configurations would also result in unique sound montages, gather up three friends, or strangers, to achieve the desired effect.  This is the first time the album has been made available digitally. 

The much-anticipated third studio long-player from Florence Welch and her mechanically inclined companions, How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful arrives after a period of recalibration for the spirited English songtress. Arriving three-and-a-half years after 2011's well-received Ceremonials, the 11-track set, the first Florence + the Machine album to be produced by Markus Dravs (Arcade Fire, Coldplay), eschews some of the bombast and water- and death-fixated metaphors of Lungs and Ceremonials in favor of a more restrained sonic scope and an honest reckoning with the dark follies of your late twenties. This change is most notable on the workmanlike opener "Ship to Wreck," a shimmering, open road-ready folk-rock rumination on the ambiguity/inevitability of post-fame self-destruction that, unlike prior first cuts like "Dog Days Are Over" and "Only If for a Night," feels firmly rooted in the now. Whether it be simple maturity or Dravs' calculated production style, there's no denying that an effort has been made to dial back a bit on some of the pageantry of Welch's earlier works, and for the most part, her penchant for pairing mystic Bronte-esque pondering with similarly windswept pagan/gothic gospel rock is left bubbling beneath the surface. This attempt to reign in Welch's more histrionic tendencies yields mixed results, with some songs finding the sweet spot between bluster and nuance and others (most of them in the album's sleepy latter half) disappearing altogether. Of the former, the bluesy (and ballsy) "What a Man," the propulsive and purposeful "Delilah," and the gorgeous title track impress the most. Instead of building to a fevered crescendo, as is the Flo-Machine way, the latter cut, a transcendent, slow-burning, chamber pop gem, dissolves into a simple and elegant, yet still goose-bump-inducing round of horns, and is breathtaking without knocking the wind out of you. Whether How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful ends up being a transitional album remains to be seen, as there is enough of each side of Welch (the pastoral and the feral) represented to tip the scale either way. That said, her Brit-pop soul treacle is still miles better than some of her contemporaries' top-tier offerings, and when the album connects it moves right in and starts to redecorate, but when it falters, it's akin to a chatty party guest failing to realize that everyone else has gone home.© James Christopher Monger /TiVo

Contraband features Slash, Duff, and Matt Sorum (as well as additional guitarist Dave Kushner) cranking out an updated version of Guns N' Roses swagger behind Scott Weiland's glammy, elastic vocals. With STP's vocalist and such a high percentage of ex-Gunners, Velvet Revolver really is a supergroup. "Went too fast I'm out of luck and I don't even give a f*ck," Weiland spits on "Do It for the Kids," and a peel from Slash's arsenal backs him up. Maturity has clearly come at a price for both parties. Weiland still mugs and sings like a florescent lizard king. But his appetite for the spotlight has somehow become more voracious even as he fights cynically against it, and longs for an escape. For their part, Slash, Duff, and Co. like stirring up their old demons -- check the explosive entrance on "Set Me Free" to get things a-tingling like the old days. But they're not running a nostalgia show, so there are new tricks and sounds, too, and plenty of choruses that shift into STP-style layering and vocal phrasing. The bass-heavy throb of "Big Machine"'s verses surges into a hard-charging '90s alt. rock chorus; "Headspace" alternates representative chunks of both bands' sounds with veteran skill; and "Superhuman" rants about illegal substances in language everyone can understand. Overall, Contraband sounds pretty much like you'd expect of such a collaboration. Lead single "Slither" is an immediate highlight, its gasoline-drinking cocaine strut staining it as the offspring of "Big Bang Baby" and "Nightrain", while the album's detours -- "Fall to Pieces", the gorgeous "Loving the Alien" -- are painted in dusty reds and browns, like idealized fever dreams of escaping to the desert with the one you love. These mediations point to the pain behind Weiland's cynical veneer, and perhaps the entire band's veteran hope for a head-clearing open space. Remember, between them they've probably seen it all. With Contraband, Velvet Revolver pull off something tidy - their music manages both hedonism and maturity.© Johnny Loftus /TiVo

Widely considered as one of the greatest and most important rap albums of all time, The Notorious B.I.G.'s Ready To Die is an indisputable masterpiece and one of the cornerstones of East Coast rap. Released by Sean "Puffy" Combs' Bad Boy Records in September, 1994, Biggie's debut album paved the way for countless future stars and signalled the beginning of an East Coast revival. Coming straight from the streets of Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn, The Notorious B.I.G. paints a picture of the darker, criminal side of early '90s New York, drawing mainly from personal experience. In contrast to the West Coast glamorization and glorification of the criminal lifestyle, Ready To Die includes tracks which give a brutally honest account of a crook’s life on the streets, something which helped Biggie gain the respect of the masses. The album also explores some of the rapper’s deeper and more troubling thoughts and emotions with tracks such as "Everyday Struggle" and the distressing late night phone call of "Suicidal Thoughts". The album’s lead single, "Juicy", went gold just over three months after its release, with following singles "Big Poppa" and "One More Chance" both certified platinum less than a year later. These three tracks signaled the arrival of the artist the East Coast had been waiting for to lead the charge against the West Coast dominance started by Dr. Dre and co. As well as telling the story of the streets, Biggie spends parts of the album explaining how his focus on music was a way for him to take a step back from the criminal lifestyle, something he demonstrates on "Machine Gun Funk" with the lyrics "Left the drugs alone, took the thugs along with me" and "I’m doing rhymes now, f*** the crimes now." However, the album also makes it clear that despite turning over a new leaf, it can be hard for someone who once had "a key knee deep in the crack game" ("Things Done Changed") to cut all ties with their past life. "Warning" documents a robbery attempt by two men who had heard of the known ex-drug dealer’s rise to the top of the rap game, and ends with Biggie firing two fatal shots, a poetic way of conveying the difficulty the rapper had in distancing himself from street life. Never shying away from telling his own story, "Respect" sees Biggie map out his turbulent life for us, from birth to dope smoking teen, drug dealer, convict, and finally rap sensation. With its old school loops and lucid yet humorous lyrics, Ready To Die cemented itself in rap folklore and marked the start of a career that was tragically ended far too soon with the rapper’s shooting in March, 1997. © Euan Decourt / Qobuz

Big Swing Face not only reissues the second recording by Buddy Rich & His Big Band but doubles the program with nine previously unissued performances from the same engagement at the Chez Club in Hollywood. Rich's orchestra was in its early prime, displaying a very impressive ensemble sound, charts by Bill Holman, Shorty Rogers, Bob Florence, Bill Potts and others, and such soloists as altoist Ernie Watts (a newcomer), trumpeter Bobby Shew, Jay Corre on tenor and the remarkable drummer/leader. Even with the presence of "Norwegian Wood" and "The Beat Goes On" (the latter features Rich's teenage daughter Cathe on a vocal), this is very much a swinging set. Rich has some outstanding solos and lots of drum breaks but does not hog the spotlight; he was justifiably proud of his band.© Scott Yanow /TiVo

Tim McGraw left Curb for Big Machine in 2013, nearly two decades deep into his career. He stayed with the label into the 2020s, releasing Here on Earth the first year of that decade, but McGraw Machine Hits covers his 2010s, rounding up ten hits in its basic version, adding "Truck Yeah" to the digital incarnation, and adding three covers to its deluxe edition: a version of the Cars' "Drive," a duet with Florida Georgia Line on "May We All," and a cover of the Bellamy Brothers' "Redneck Girl" cut with Midland. These are nice additions to a solid set that finds McGraw digging deeper into his mellow tendencies, emphasizing his empathetic side on "Humble and Kind" and "Meanwhile Back at Mama's," nodding at R&B on "Diamond Rings and Old Barstools" and bringing in Taylor Swift for bittersweet harmonies on "The Highway Don't Care." Collectively, these singles veer toward the smooth side, but they do showcase a mature McGraw who seems very comfortable in his own skin.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Four albums in 15 years is not exactly prolific when it comes to making records. But Annie Lennox has never been one to rush things, and her recorded output as a solo artist in life after the Eurythmics has been stellar. The last time she issued a recording in 2003 with Bare, a collection of deeply committed emotional songs that set a new standard for her artistically, though they were written in the turmoil following her second divorce. Perhaps the reason she hasn't had the time to record is her activism. She's involved herself in causes that range from her primary concern, raising awareness about AIDS/HIV (and she refers to this in the album's notes), to the environment and poverty. But Songs of Mass Destruction isn't a political album by any means, unless the personal is -- and often it is. This is another album of love songs; dark love songs. These are breakup ballads, statuesque embers of pain and rage that have simmered down to the traces of that dull ache of emptiness that always exists in the aftermath of something profound. The production is characteristically slick, and Lennox is in excellent voice -- it's always startling to hear something new from her simply because that voice is so singular, it becomes a part of the listener no matter what she's signing. Most of what's here is adult-oriented, sophisticated pop. That's nothing to apologize for. The keyboard- and drum-drenched set has all sorts of texture to keep it from being formulaic, such as the accordion on "Ghost in My Machine," which is a rocking number. "Love Is Blind" begins with an acoustic piano and a slide guitar quietly rumbling behind it, though it's a suicide ballad turned inside out. When Lennox opens her mouth, it's all blues scorch wither, letting that big voice wrap itself around some harrowing lines like "I got so much trouble getting in to this/Can't decide if it's hell or bliss/Sometimes I feel like I don't exist/Cut my veins and slit my wrists/Goodbye/Goodbye...Can't you see that I'm so addicted/To the notion of a someone/Who could take me from this wretched state/Save me from the bitterness and hatred of humanity/I'm so screwed up." But she's not pleading; she's declaring, testifying with searing honesty. On the track "Sing," she has donated all proceeds to an AIDS charity TAC (Treatment Action Committee) and enlisted a host of women to sing in a choir who will likely not be heard in the same place again: Beth Gibbons, Madonna, Celine Dion, Beth Orton, Angélique Kidjo, Shakira, Sarah McLachlan, Faith Hill, Fergie, Beverley Knight, Martha Wainwright, k.d. lang, Shingai Shoniwa, KT Tunstall, Bonnie Raitt, Dido, Gladys Knight, Anastacia, and Melissa Etheridge. It's another huge feminist anthem, with a killer hook, a big bad soul/gospel refrain, and a beat that, once it gets into the spine, will not be easily dismissed. But the ballads here are as profound and deep as the big production numbers. The opener, with its lilting Celtic flavor, is devastatingly beautiful and sad. "Smithereens," with its languid piano treading so lightly, offers the singer once more bearing heart and soul in a kind of vulnerability that accepts responsibility as well as lays blame: "Behind the victim/Behind the trouble/Of all the things you've not expressed...So don't make me sad/I couldn't stand to watch you fall/'Cause everybody has a tender heart/Remember this/I didn't mean to break it down to smithereens." "Womankind" is a funky soul number offering wishes that perhaps many women wish for (though men do too), though its expression of raw need and desire may piss off a few of its intended recipients. The track is a bona fide single, though. It's colored by the exotic ballad "Through a Glass Darkly," looking through the mirror of life in the true self, with its cyclical coming together and splitting apart, which is realized utterly in "Lost." "Coloured Bedspread" revisits the electronic beat pop of the Eurythmics. The skeletal toy-sounding piano and cheap drum machine in "Big Sky" is lifted by the power of Lennox's voice and her backing vocalists before it breaks into big fat warm loops, and Lennox digging deep into her soul book for the melody. Anita Baker, eat your heart out. The set closes with the elegant, complex, and confident ballad "Fingernail Moon," which is sung alone in the emptiness of the night sky, bearing the entirety of disappointment, the smallness of humanity in the universe -- no matter how much we think we're the center of it. The sadness in the song is also confessional and speaks to bewilderment and ultimately becomes a prayer when she sings, "I feel so sad/There's something unsettling under my skin/I don't know the reason or where to begin/Caught in the circles I've found myself in/But I want to reach out and touch you/My sweet sickle moon." Songs of Mass Destruction can be heard as a melancholy part two of Bare, but one feels after repeated listening that Lennox is not only speaking of her own experiences in life and love, but those of her sisters, and the human condition at large, when focused on in the first person, becomes somewhat palatable and embraceable by a third party. It's as gorgeous a collection as Bare, and pop music should be so lucky as to have more of this kind of thing out in the world. She may not be prolific, but she is always profound, and to date has always delivered the very best she's had to offer, which is, in this case, as well as her other recordings, plentiful and magnificent.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

A nicely matched pair of scores, with the first having some charmingly goofy elements to its credit. Elfman hit the ground running with his score for Pee Wee's Big Adventure, serving the film well. Back to School is somewhat less distinctive, but it's still fun to listen to. No Elfman collection should be missing this one.© Steven McDonald /TiVo