Beginning with Swordfishtrombones, released in September 1983, Tom Waits' turn towards cabaret blues-rock (that had more to do with Bertolt Brecht than George Gerswhin) was brilliantly confirmed on Rain Dogs two years later. Marc Ribot, the genius behind this masterstroke, brought a unique, unregimented guitar sound to the Californian bluesman, finding a perfect osmosis with his wavering organ. Also on six-string, another big name was on hand for a few tracks: Keith Richards! With his crazy stories, improbable stopovers between New York and Singapore, UFO sounds, disfigured blues and drunken waltzes, Waits dares to do it all, and delivers some of his finest songs, such as Downtown Train and Jockey Full Of Bourbon. Behind the brilliant array of crazier instruments that give our modern-day Howlin' Wolf his unique identity, Rain Dogs offers some truly timeless songs.    © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

A duets collection of folk song covers could be pure novelty, but Rufus Wainwright infuses this recording with so much thought and care, it feels essential. Wainwright's song choices aren't precious. There are plenty of traditionals, including a jazzy version of the bluegrass standard "Cotton Eyed Joe" that finds him melting like butter next to Chaka Khan's heat. And Brandi Carlile brings incredible earthiness to the high harmonies of "Down in the Willow Garden," a gruesome Appalachian murder ballad ("I drew a saber through her/ It was an awful sight/ I threw her in the river/ Then ran off in fright") previously recorded by Flatt & Scruggs (as "Rose Connelly") and the Everly Brothers. But there's also a delightful take on "Twelve-Thirty (Young Girls Are Coming to the Canyon)," with Wainwright assembling his own version of the Mamas & the Papas—himself, Susanna Hoffs, Sheryl Crow, and Chris Stills (son of Stephen)—that captures all the charm and chamber-pop melancholy of the original (while making it clear that Hoffs and Crow should do more together). Stills and Andrew Bird contribute rich harmonies, as well as weepy violin from Bird, for Neil Young's "Harvest." Van Dyke Parks guests on accordion and spritely piano for his own "Black Gold," with Wainwright playfully leaping from note to note. And Wainwright even stages a theatrical reimagining of his own "Going to a Town." First released in 2007, the song is about giving up on the political division of America—written when gay marriage was being debated—and decamping to Berlin; it feels painfully relevant all over again in 2023, especially with trans artist Anohni silkily shadowing Wainwright. A warm and earthy John Legend joins in for a feather-light version of Peggy Seeger's "Heading for Home," while David Byrne shows up for Moondog's "High on a Rocky Ledge"; his and Wainwright's eccentricities are so different and yet so complementary. Make no mistake, Wainwright is the star of the show here, and does not shy away from the spotlight, with his inimitable vocal tone warming up each and every track. He even takes a couple of solo turns, including a cover of "Shenandoah," velvety with bell-piano, that showcase his remarkable ability to meld with the music: effortlessly alternating restraint, sustain, and full-throated power. And yes, he brings in his talented family, teaming with siblings Martha Wainwright and Lucy Wainwright Roche on a chilling version of the traditional lullaby "Hush Little Baby";  on "Wild Mountain Thyme" they’re joined by their aunt Anna McGarrigle and her daughter Lily Lanken, as well as Chaim Tannenbaum, a longtime musical collaborator of both of Wainwright's parents, Loudon Wainwright III and the late Kate McGarrigle. The harmonies are at once celestial, yet so human—vibrantly alive and warm with flesh and spirit. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Picking up on the ‘60s soul undercurrent of Brothers, the Black Keys smartly capitalize on their 2010 breakthrough by plunging headfirst into retro-soul on El Camino. Savvy operators that they are, the Black Keys don’t opt for authenticity à la Sharon Jones or Eli “Paperboy” Reed: they bring Danger Mouse back into the fold, the producer adding texture and glitter to the duo’s clean, lean songwriting. Apart from “Little Black Submarines,” an acoustic number that crashes into Zeppelin heaviosity as it reaches its coda, every one of the 11 songs here clocks in under four minutes, adding up to a lean 38-minute rock & roll rush, an album that’s the polar opposite of the Black Keys’ previous collaboration with Danger Mouse, the hazy 2008 platter Attack & Release. That purposely drifted into detours, whereas El Camino never takes its eye off the main road: it barrels down the highway, a modern motor in its vintage body. Danger Mouse adds glam flair that doesn’t distract from the songs, all so sturdily built they easily accommodate the shellacked layers of cheap organs, fuzz guitars, talk boxes, backing girls, tambourines, foot stomps, and handclaps. Each element harks back to something from the past -- there are Motown beats and glam rock guitars -- but everything is fractured through a modern prism: the rhythms have swing, but they’re tight enough to illustrate the duo’s allegiance to hip-hop; the gleaming surfaces are postmodern collages, hinting at collective aural memories. All this blurring of eras is in the service of having a hell of a good time. More than any other Black Keys album, El Camino is an outright party, playing like a collection of 11 lost 45 singles, each one having a bigger beat or dirtier hook than the previous side. What’s being said doesn’t matter as much as how it’s said: El Camino is all trash and flash and it’s highly addictive.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

At some point every band makes a move towards commercial success. Accolades for purity of motivation and peerless references are great, but selling a few albums carries its own kind of rush. Oh sure, by 2011, The Black Keys had already hit paydirt licensing music for Victoria's Secret ads, among other brands, but the duo wanted their music rather than their opportunism to be respected. Routinely crediting The Cramps and The Clash while still sounding like the rough 'n' ready garage band from Akron, Ohio, that they'd been since the beginning made the journey to larger musical success problematic. Enter Brian "Danger Mouse" Burton, who produced guitarist Dan Auerbach and drummer Patrick Carney's preceding album, 2010's Brothers; recorded at Muscle Shoals Sound Studio in Sheffield, Alabama, it continued the Black Keys' move away from a lo-fi sound. Advised by Burton to record more upbeat material that would play well in the arena-sized venues they were aiming for, the pair convened at Auerbach's new Easy Eye Sound Studio in Nashville and began to work up fresh material. Like all Black Keys records, riff rock and Auerbach and Carney's back-and-forth interplay are the foundation, but now their usual dirty blues vibe gave way to a more straight ahead early rock and roll tone. Danger Mouse also became an active part of the songwriting process for the first time. Fast tempos and more pronounced pop hooks were the immediate focus. The opener "Lonely Boy," is impossible to resist. In "Dead and Gone" handclaps and the album's three female background singers Leisa Hans, Heather Rigdon and Ashley Wilcoxson beef up the poppy choruses. Recorded by Kennie Takahashi and Collin Dupuis, and mixed by Tchad Blake, the sound here is enhanced with plenty of reverb making everything that much larger in the process. Tunes like the working girl paean, "Money Maker," where Auerbach sings, "I wanna buy some time but don't have a dime," sound oversized and very much arena-ready. "Sister" is the Keys' elemental riff rock at its best, this time fleshed out by Danger Mouse on keyboard. Touches like the squiggly guitar line in "Run Right Back" confirm musical evolutions in their usual jam-it-up method. This reissue contains 20 tracks from a previously unreleased concert from Portland, Maine, an 11-track BBC Radio 1 session from 2012, and a 9-track 2011 Electro-Vox rehearsal session recorded prior to the 2012 El Camino tour. While both live sets are stacked with tracks from Brothers ("Howlin for You," "Tighten Up") and El Camino, the BBC set has a closer, densely packed sound, while the live sound of the Portland show in front of a rabid audience is huge and reverberant. The rehearsal session is predictably loose with slower tempos, though the arrangements are similar to what was eventually released. This reissue does bring up questions: is ten years long enough to create the demand and perspective necessary for a successful reissue? Have Keys fans even stopped listening to their original copies yet or is this more rampant commercialism from a band famous for it? Of course, it may also be that Auerbach and Carney are closing a chapter. Stay tuned for the next decade. © Robert Baird/Qobuz

After two albums of muted, mature jazz-inflected pop, the last being an explicit album about death, Sting created his first unapologetically pop album since the Police with Ten Summoner's Tales. The title, a rather awkward pun on his given last name, is significant, since it emphasizes that this album is a collection of songs, without any musical conceits or lyrical concepts tying it together. And, frankly, that's a bit of a relief after the oppressively somber The Soul Cages and the hushed though lovely, Nothing Like the Sun. Sting even loosens up enough to crack jokes, both clever (the winking litany of celebrity pains of "Epilogue [Nothing 'Bout Me]") and condescending (the sneeringly catchy cowboy tale "Love Is Stronger Than Justice [The Munificent Seven]"), and the result is his best solo record. In places, it's easily as pretentious as his earlier work, but that's undercut by writing that hasn't been this sharp and melodic since the Police, plus his most varied set of songs since Synchronicity. True, there isn't a preponderance of flat-out classics -- only the surging opener "If I Ever Lose My Faith in You," the understated swing of "It's Probably Me," and the peaceful ballad "Fields of Gold" rank as classics -- but, as an album, Ten Summoner's Tales is more consistently satisfying than anything else in his catalog.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

The 16-year stint between Since I Left You, the Avalanches' masterful and mind-blowing debut album, and their sophomore release Wildflower is likely to always be something of an inescapable plotline in the Australian group's career story. However, it should be noted that the mere four years that have elapsed between Wildlflower and We Will Always Love You, the group's third album, are both eminently reasonable by 21st century release standards and completely remarkable given the conceptual richness and production complexity at play here. (And that's leaving out the fact that principal member Robbie Chater had a stint in rehab during that time.) We Will Always Love You is an album that is absolutely full to bursting—with 25 tracks (a handful are sub-30-second interludes), more than 20 guest vocalists, and, yes, scores of richly layered samples, the sheer act of composing, recording, and compiling it could forgivably have taken much longer. However, in the case of WWALY, the group benefited from a clear-eyed concept inspired by Ann Druyan (whose face is on the cover). Druyan’s scientific and creative endeavors, her relationship with Carl Sagan, and how those things intersected most notably with her work on NASA's Golden Record project, actual gold-plated LPs sent into space aboard the Voyager 1 and Voyager 2 spacecrafts. The Avalanches have put together their own sort of cosmic mixtape, touching on a wide variety of styles and sounds. Guests range from Johnny Marr, Neneh Cherry, and Vashti Bunyan to Leon Bridges and Denzel Curry; sample sources include Steve Reich, Pat Metheny, Carlinhos Brown and Druyan herself. In keeping with its celestial theme, this is a remarkably adventurous and slightly diaphanous-sounding album, with cuts like the wispy and slightly psychedelic "Gold Sky" (featuring Kurt Vile and Wayne Coyne), the spooky and transcendent "Music is the Light" (with Cornelius and Kelly Moran) and the somewhat on-the-nose "Interstellar Love" (with Leon Bridges) standing as thematic tentpoles. Meanwhile, the more straightforward (and accessible) cuts like the disco groovy "Music Makes Me High," the bouncy and retro "We Go On," and pop/rock treading "Running Red Lights" (which manages to feature a Rivers Cuomo vocal and a David Berman lyric) provide plenty of reminders of terrestrial joy. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

Building from the jazz fusion foundation of Pretzel Logic, Steely Dan created an alluringly sophisticated album of jazzy pop with Katy Lied. With this record, Walter Becker and Donald Fagen began relying solely on studio musicians, which is evident from the immaculate sound of the album. Usually, such a studied recording method would drain the life out of each song, but that's not the case with Katy Lied, which actually benefits from the duo's perfectionist tendencies. Each song is given a glossy sheen, one that accentuates not only the stronger pop hooks, but also the precise technical skill of the professional musicians drafted to play the solos. Essentially, Katy Lied is a smoother version of Pretzel Logic, featuring the same cross-section of jazz-pop and blues-rock. The lack of innovations doesn't hurt the record, since the songs are uniformly brilliant. Less overtly cynical than previous Dan albums, the album still has its share of lyrical stingers, but what's really notable are the melodies, from the seductive jazzy soul of "Doctor Wu" and the lazy blues of "Chain Lightning" to the terse "Black Friday" and mock calypso of "Everyone's Gone to the Movies." It's another excellent record in one of the most distinguished rock & roll catalogs of the '70s.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Wrecking Ball is a leftfield masterpiece, the most wide-ranging, innovative, and daring record in a career built on such notions. Rich in atmosphere and haunting in its dark complexity, much of the due credit belongs to producer Daniel Lanois; best known for his work with pop superstars like U2 and Peter Gabriel, on Wrecking Ball Lanois taps into the very essence of what makes Harris tick -- the gossamer vocals, the flawless phrasing -- while also opening up innumerable new avenues for her talents to explore. The songs shimmer and swirl, given life through Lanois' trademark ringing guitar textures and the almost primal drumming of U2's Larry Mullen, Jr. The fixed point remains Harris' voice, which leaps into each and every one of these diverse compositions -- culled from the pens of Neil Young, Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, Steve Earle, and others -- with utter fearlessness, as if this were the album she'd been waiting her entire life to make. Maybe it is.© Jason Ankeny /TiVo

Soul Asylum's breakthrough, million-selling Grave Dancers Union yielded the mega-hit "Runaway Train" and put the band in a whole new league; longtime fans were predictably disappointed with the slick results. This is a solid alternative rock record with singer/songwriter/vocalist Dave Pirner upfront, a role he was built for but always seemed to resist until this clear do-or-die moment for the band. Soul Asylum did; however, they never matched the success or consistency of this album. Tracks like "Home Sick" and "New World" bear the roots of the country-rock revival later forged by Son Volt and Wilco, while the angst-ridden "Somebody to Shove" is pure joy Soul Asylum-style.© Denise Sullivan /TiVo

Esperanza Spalding's fourth album, Radio Music Society (a companion piece to Chamber Music Society in name only) is one of enormous ambition -- polished production, sophisticated, busy charts, and classy songwriting -- that consciously juxtaposes neo-soul and adult-oriented jazz-tinged pop. It employs a stellar cast, largely of jazz musicians, to pull it off. She produced the set, with help from Q-Tip on a couple of numbers, and wrote all but two songs here: a cover of "I Can't Help It" (a Michael Jackson cover written by Stevie Wonder) and Wayne Shorter's "Endangered Species." There are truckloads of players, including three different all-star drummers in Terri Lyne Carrington, Jack DeJohnette, and Billy Hart, saxophonist Joe Lovano, and guitarists Jef Lee Johnson and Lionel Loueke on "Black Gold" (which also contains his vocals and an appearance by the Savannah Children's Choir). Though Ms. Spalding takes most lead vocals, there are also duet appearances from Lalah Hathaway and Algebra Blessett. Backing vocalists include Gretchen Parlato (who also anchors a chorus on several tunes) and Leni Stern. The American Music Program horn section appears on three cuts. The highlights here include "Crowned & Kissed" (a Q-Tip co-production) with its rubbery bassline, contrapuntal horns, Leo Genovese's artful pianism, and Carrington's impeccable sense of swing that bridges funk, neo-soul, jazz, and hip-hop. "Radio Song" contains layered interpolated rhythms (again courtesy of Carrington), sparkling Rhodes piano, syncopated horns and backing chorus, Spalding's alto croon, and a taut, popping bassline. Lovano's saxophone adds a truly elegant and graceful dimension to "I Can't Help It." The charts on Shorter's tune (with lyrics by Spalding) illuminate what may have been the composer's intent all along -- and nod at Pastorius-era Weather Report simultaneously. DeJohnette's funky subtlety drives the knotty fingerpop of "Let Her," and Hart's trademark, shimmering cymbal work on "Hold on Me" complements Spalding's sultry vocal in retro bluesy pop -- it's one of only a couple of places on the record where she plays acoustic bass. While Radio Music Society may play better to younger pop audiences than more die-hard jazzheads, this program is so diverse and well executed -- despite a little overreaching -- it's anybody's guess.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

An unplugged retelling of many of the band's best-known songs, Simple Minds' Acoustic is an enjoyable if not particularly organic set. Employing the criteria used during the heyday of MTV Unplugged, the veteran Scots do indeed reimagine their catalog using acoustic instruments, though the amount of manipulation via effects and creative mixing makes for something a bit different. The resulting album is a sort of hybrid of stripped-down arrangements with just enough rock sweetening to reach the back seats. In the case of monster hits like "Alive and Kicking" and "Don't You (Forget About Me)," this approach feels a bit underwhelming and bland. While these renditions aren't necessarily bad, it does seem like Simple Minds missed out on an opportunity to dramatically shake up their repertoire in any number of possible directions, but instead settled for simply swapping out the electric guitars and synths with acoustic guitar and piano. The whole point of doing acoustic versions is usually to lay bare the material, deconstructing it down to its roots, but for the most part, Acoustic feels a bit too polished and adjusted.© Timothy Monger /TiVo

Manchester Orchestra isn’t from England but from Atlanta, on the other side of the Atlantic. The ocean is probably the stretch to which this spectacular music— or epic maybe—makes us think of and in which you would like to let go. It’s a rather lyric indie rock, with an almost cinematographic edge sometimes, which never holds back its generosity. With guitars in abundance, beautiful vocal harmonies and contagious choruses, this fifth album from Andy Hull’s band sounds like Fleet Foxes on amphetamines or even, in their most commercial moments, Coldplay. It’s an invigorating disc which clearly fleshes out the charisma of Manchester Orchestra. © CM/Qobuz