Lana Del Rey is a femme fatale with a smoky voice, a languorous image, and a modeling contract. Not coincidentally, she didn't lack for attention leading up to the release of her Interscope debut, Born to Die. The hype began in mid-2011 with a stunning song and video for "Video Games," and it kept on rising, right up to her January 2012 performance on Saturday Night Live (making her the first artist since Natalie Imbruglia in 1998 to perform on SNL without an album available). Although it's easy to see the reasons why Del Rey got her contract, it's also easy to hear: her songwriting skills and her bewitching voice. "Video Games" is a beautiful song, calling to mind Fiona Apple and Anna Calvi as she recounts another variation on the age-old trope of female-as-sex-object. Her vacant, tired reading of the song rescues it from any hint of exploitation, making it a winner. Unfortunately, the only problem with Born to Die is a big one. There is a chasm that separates "Video Games" from the other material and performances on the album, which aims for exactly the same target -- sultry, sexy, wasted -- but with none of the same lyrical grace, emotional power, or sympathetic productions. Del Rey doesn't mind taking chances, varying her vocalizing and delivery, toying with her lines and reaching for cinematic flourishes ("he loves me with every beat of his cocaine heart," "Pabst Blue Ribbon on ice"), and even attempting to rap. But she's unable to consistently sell herself as a heartbreaker, and most of the songs here sound like cobbled retreads of "Video Games." An intriguing start, but Del Rey is going to have to hit the books if she wants to stay as successful as her career promised early on.© John Bush /TiVo

They’re not ones for making waves and it’s not often that their music comes out of supermarket or airport speakers. Yet The National have become a major band - major because they are able to sell out concert halls, stadiums even, in the blink of an eye. And above all, they continue to create indie rock while offering rather classic melodic frames that never stray far from the status quo. Less adventurous than Radiohead, Matt Berninger and two pairs of brothers (Aaron and Bryce Dessner and Bryan and Scott Devendorf) use their individual and original ideas with the sole purpose of enhancing their songs. We find on Sleep Well Beast, which has just been released, this perfect mix of unified and experimental sounds which embellish their more than perfect compositions. As we often find with The National, simply listening just the once is not enough to be irradiated by the power of their songs. This is confirmed in this seventh album from the New Yorkers. Take your time, reflect upon each lyric, each instrumental effect. It is then and only then that the shell will open to reveal its beauty.

Sometimes you need to look back in order to move forward. While Black Stone Cherry have had increasing chart success -- 2014's Magic Mountain hit number five on the U.K. charts and number 22 in the U.S. -- the band felt a lack of creative control over their recordings. To that end, they left Roadrunner Records and signed to Mascot, run by Ron Burman (the man who signed them to Roadrunner in the first place). Earlier Black Stone Cherry albums were always imbalanced: songwriting was sometimes sacrificed in an attempt to replicate the band's live sound; at other times, it was the reverse. Kentucky is a self-produced, back-to-the-roots affair (with participation from a host of local players and singers). Opener "The Way of the Future" walks the line between gnarly, riff-tastic hard rock and heavy metal. Frontman/guitarist Chris Robertson's rant against greedy politicians is fueled by his and Ben Wells' twin-guitar attack, grooving tom-tom, kickdrum fills from John Fred Young, and a fuzzed-out, Geezer Butler-esque bassline from Jon Lawhon. The two proceeding tracks, "In Our Dreams" and "Shakin' My Cage," are equally bone-crunching. The gears shift on "Soul Machine." It blends greasy Southern-fried funk and adrenalin-fueled blues-rock, with Robertson backed by Stax-style vocalists Sandra and Tonya Dye. Black Stone Cherry can still write killer hooks, too: "Long Ride" is a power ballad in classic '70s rock fashion, complete with a rousing anthemic chorus and melodic guitar fills by Wells. The band updates Edwin Starr's psychedelic soul classic "War" with fat baritone saxophone, brass, dirty, in-the-red distorted guitars, and a large backing chorus. Robertson's vocal is filled with righteous indignation as the band swells toward volcanic eruption. The vintage Southern rock vibe on "Cheaper to Drink Alone" is classic BSC, but it's steeped in such a catchy melody, it will likely be covered by harder, edgier contemporary country acts. Wells' guitar break is one of his meatiest on record. "Hangman" is steeped in squalling, hard-riffing blues with a hooky chorus, while "Rescue Me," despite its brief gospelized intro, is the meanest, leanest thing on the set. The groove-centric intro of "Feelin' Fuzzy" gives way to a funky backbeat with guitars on stun. The latter album track "Darkest Secret" helps close the album circle with off-the-rails metallic hard rock (complete with a Black Sabbath-style breakdown), though the chorus is drenched in Southern groove. Kentucky marks the first time BSC have balanced all of their writing strengths with their concert presence. The album is a grower. After a listen or two, Black Stone Cherry's back-to-the-cradle approach proves that track for track, Kentucky is not only more consistent, but more satisfying than previous albums.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

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Lana Del Rey is a femme fatale with a smoky voice, a languorous image, and a modeling contract. Not coincidentally, she didn't lack for attention leading up to the release of her Interscope debut, Born to Die. The hype began in mid-2011 with a stunning song and video for "Video Games," and it kept on rising, right up to her January 2012 performance on Saturday Night Live (making her the first artist since Natalie Imbruglia in 1998 to perform on SNL without an album available). Although it's easy to see the reasons why Del Rey got her contract, it's also easy to hear: her songwriting skills and her bewitching voice. "Video Games" is a beautiful song, calling to mind Fiona Apple and Anna Calvi as she recounts another variation on the age-old trope of female-as-sex-object. Her vacant, tired reading of the song rescues it from any hint of exploitation, making it a winner. Unfortunately, the only problem with Born to Die is a big one. There is a chasm that separates "Video Games" from the other material and performances on the album, which aims for exactly the same target -- sultry, sexy, wasted -- but with none of the same lyrical grace, emotional power, or sympathetic productions. Del Rey doesn't mind taking chances, varying her vocalizing and delivery, toying with her lines and reaching for cinematic flourishes ("he loves me with every beat of his cocaine heart," "Pabst Blue Ribbon on ice"), and even attempting to rap. But she's unable to consistently sell herself as a heartbreaker, and most of the songs here sound like cobbled retreads of "Video Games." An intriguing start, but Del Rey is going to have to hit the books if she wants to stay as successful as her career promised early on.© John Bush /TiVo

"I wanted you to get the humidity of it, the heat, the ways we reach to the pits of hell and the heights of heaven," South Carolina native Adia Victoria has said of her third album. "I wanted this record to encapsulate the extremes of the South." Mission accomplished; listening to A Southern Gothic, there is no escaping that uneasy—truly, haunted—feeling of so much beauty and so much menace all in one place. The singer-songwriter gets right to it with "Magnolia Blues": "I'm going back South/ Down to Carolina/ I'm gonna plant myself/ Under a magnolia/ I'm gonna let that dirt/ Do its work." The magnolia tree is both a symbol of deep-South femininity and strength as well as horror, given its association with lynchings. Victoria not only reclaims her roots, though—she firmly owns them and won't be run off by a history that's still awfully close to the surface. She elegantly brings a poet's touch to protest songs, never hitting you bluntly over the head. "Deep Water Blues'' layers cool swing with a spiritual vibe; its lyrics could be read as an expression of the exhaustion black women feel about having to educate eager allies on racism: "They say a black woman got steel for a spine … but I don't want to rescue you ... You gotta learn to swim or you will die tonight." Produced by T Bone Burnett, the songs feel both modern and as authentic as they come. You can imagine PJ Harvey covering the cheated-on lament of "Mean Hearted Woman," which sounds sexy and threatening and wounded all at once, its gently picked blues guitar giving way to lush, molasses-slow bass. On "You Was Born to Die," Victoria trades verses with alt-country badass Margo Price and folk-R&B star Kyshona Armonstrong, their voices uniting like a Greek chorus you definitely don't want narrating your life: "You made me love you and you made me cryyyyyyy/ You should remember you was born to die." (Jason Isbell ignites the whole thing with red-hot guitar.) Indeed, Victoria has intriguing taste in collaborators. Underground Appalachian legend Stone Jack Jones' ghostly moan perfectly haunts "My Oh My," about clinging to a loved one's presence after death. And the National's Matt Berninger's lived-in baritone is an appealing contrast to Victoria's tremulous sweetness on the achingly homesick "South for the Winter." Meanwhile, on "Whole World Knows," Victoria comes on like a modern-day Bobbie Gentry, spinning a fascinating character portrait of small-town tragedy. She sings of a girl who "from the time that she was three/ most anyone could see that girl was trouble," and "showed up strung out … at her surprise Sweet Sixteen … took a bite right out of the cake, didn't say one word of grace." Told in Victoria's tender, low-spoken falsetto, it sounds like secrets whispered between neighbors over a backyard fence. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Lana Del Rey is a femme fatale with a smoky voice, a languorous image, and a modeling contract. Not coincidentally, she didn't lack for attention leading up to the release of her Interscope debut, Born to Die. The hype began in mid-2011 with a stunning song and video for "Video Games," and it kept on rising, right up to her January 2012 performance on Saturday Night Live (making her the first artist since Natalie Imbruglia in 1998 to perform on SNL without an album available). Although it's easy to see the reasons why Del Rey got her contract, it's also easy to hear: her songwriting skills and her bewitching voice. "Video Games" is a beautiful song, calling to mind Fiona Apple and Anna Calvi as she recounts another variation on the age-old trope of female-as-sex-object. Her vacant, tired reading of the song rescues it from any hint of exploitation, making it a winner. Unfortunately, the only problem with Born to Die is a big one. There is a chasm that separates "Video Games" from the other material and performances on the album, which aims for exactly the same target -- sultry, sexy, wasted -- but with none of the same lyrical grace, emotional power, or sympathetic productions. Del Rey doesn't mind taking chances, varying her vocalizing and delivery, toying with her lines and reaching for cinematic flourishes ("he loves me with every beat of his cocaine heart," "Pabst Blue Ribbon on ice"), and even attempting to rap. But she's unable to consistently sell herself as a heartbreaker, and most of the songs here sound like cobbled retreads of "Video Games." An intriguing start, but Del Rey is going to have to hit the books if she wants to stay as successful as her career promised early on.© John Bush /TiVo

With Alterations, Robin McKelle celebrates all the women that have helped shape her into the artist she is today. “Their memory has an infallible power. I wanted to pay tribute to all these female creative singer/songwriters and make their songs my own.” The American with Irish origins has covered songs by Dolly Parton, Sade, Amy Winehouse, Adele, Janis Joplin, Carole King, Billie Holiday, Joni Mitchell and Lana Del Rey. These are all artists with strong creative personalities which McKelle manages to preserve while also adding her own personal touch. Blues, soul, rhythm’n’blues and especially jazz: she has always easily flitted between genres and this eighth album underlines her ability to concentrate on her voice and the dialogue she shares with her musicians, nevermind the stylistic differences. Alterations introduces an element of shared timelessness to all these singers from different genres and eras. ©️ Clotilde Maréchal/Qobuz

"The latest incarnation finds the group making a major upgrade with the arrival of Lik guitarist Tomas Åkvik into the fold. He brings the right dash of ripping intensity to Bloodbath’s sixth studio album..."© TiVo

The homespun, slightly quirky approach that guided the Be Good Tanyas on Blue Horse permeates their enigmatically titled sophomore release too. If anything, these performances beckon the listener even more into the material, as a fiery hearth might draw strangers together on a cold night. The singing is raggedy and breathy, the instruments gently strummed or stroked; like whispered intimacies, these elements cast a conversational spell. When something extra is added, it comes in minimal doses -- a sprinkle of barely audible electric guitar and unobtrusive strings enhance, rather than delete, the acoustic ambience on "Dogsong 2," while two cameos by Olu Dara stir memories of Joni Mitchell's early tapestries of folk and jazz. No single tracks stand out, but that may be intentional; by sustaining its blurry, wistful mood with neither gimmick nor interruption, Chinatown feels like an evening well spent with old friends.© Robert L. Doerschuk /TiVo

4 stars out of 5 -- "Sharp and feral rather than bludgeoning, cuts such as 'Reality Unfolds' and 'Victimized' scowl and howl, while 'You And I' sports the closest thing to a pop hook the band have ever forged."© TiVo

After years of chasing the latest Nashville trends, Luke Bryan has settled into a comfortable groove with his seventh studio album—an easy, mature, mid-tempo sweet spot that recalls country radio's '80s heyday. It's a welcome shift. As he hits the high notes on the chorus of "Little Less Broken," Bryan evokes the great Ronnie Milsap. And suddenly you realize, that's where his voice—for so long trying to be hip and "bro"—really fits: into the smooth, pure country shoes of Milsap or Alabama frontman Randy Owen. He repeatedly proves he wears them well, on "Too Drunk to Drive" and the heavy-handed sentimentality of "Build Me A Daddy." That one's the story of a little boy longing for a father to replace the one he lost, asking for him to be "10 feet tall with a Southern drawl and a fishing pole in his hand"; no one ever said Bryan was subtle. Indeed, his lyrics tick all the boxes of the Music Row 101 formula. There are mentions of John Deere hats, fishing, drinking and jokey allusions to sex. "Birds need bees and ice needs whiskey...sweet tea needs that sugar stirrin'...boots need knockin," he sings on the catchy, finger-snapping "Knockin' Boots." Despite being rich enough to buy a yacht—the man's 2018 tour grossed $65 million—Bryan even finds a life lesson in growing up too middle-class for boat aspirations: "Love what you got, buddy, and not what you ain't," a father tells his son in "For a Boat." Bryan slips back into urban-lite beats with "What She Wants Tonight" (mercifully, he avoids the rap act he tried on the 2013 hit "That's My Kind of Night"), but it's just enough. And it's almost immediately followed by the rootsy title song, a simple palate cleanser that scoots over a bit on the '80s radio dial. It's like tuning in a forgotten Bruce Hornsby song. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Perhaps it was meant as a celebration of the pleasures of home, but there's a telling complacency lying within the heart of the title of Born Here Live Here Die Here. Seven albums deep into his career, Luke Bryan sees no reason to mess with the cheery sound that brought him fame and fortune. Boozy anthems sit alongside sentimental ballads, with the two extremes bridged by sunny pop tunes about love, the outdoors, and other country concerns. Bryan may still act like it's 2010 but he can't turn back the hands of time. Now firmly ensconced in middle age, he moves a little slower and sounds a bit gentler than he used to, an overall mellowing that changes the tenor of his music. What once played like a party now feels like comfort or, at best, the soundtrack to a midweek happy hour. Bryan's signature friendliness helps sell these subdued good times, but the leisurely pace also means he often sounds like a dad telling dorky jokes. When he rhapsodizes about "Knocking Boots," there's no danger he'll seduce a stranger, and when he sings about being "Too Drunk to Drive," he's completely sober. His measured attack suits a singer who is slowly turning into an old pro even though it can also highlight how he's still singing about the same things he did a decade earlier. The lack of musical and emotional evolution doesn't necessarily hamper Born Here Live Here Die Here -- it was designed as slick entertainment and that's exactly what it is -- but it does suggest Bryan may be playing with some borrowed time.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo