With Breakfast in America, Supertramp had a genuine blockbuster hit, topping the charts for four weeks in the U.S. and selling millions of copies worldwide; by the 1990s, the album had sold over 18 million units across the world. Although their previous records had some popular success, they never even hinted at the massive sales of Breakfast in America. Then again, Supertramp's earlier records weren't as pop-oriented as Breakfast. The majority of the album consisted of tightly written, catchy, well-constructed pop songs, like the hits "The Logical Song," "Take the Long Way Home," and "Goodbye Stranger." Supertramp still had a tendency to indulge themselves occasionally, but Breakfast in America had very few weak moments. It was clearly their high-water mark.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Love it or hate it, Over-Nite Sensation was a watershed album for Frank Zappa, the point where his post-'60s aesthetic was truly established; it became his second gold album, and most of these songs became staples of his live shows for years to come. Whereas the Flo and Eddie years were dominated by rambling, off-color comedy routines, Over-Nite Sensation tightened up the song structures and tucked sexual and social humor into melodic, technically accomplished heavy guitar rock with jazzy chord changes and funky rhythms; meanwhile, Zappa's growling new post-accident voice takes over the storytelling. While the music is some of Zappa's most accessible, the apparent callousness and/or stunning sexual explicitness of "Camarillo Brillo," "Dirty Love," and especially "Dinah-Moe Humm" leave him on shaky aesthetic ground. Zappa often protested that the charges of misogyny leveled at such material missed out on the implicit satire of male stupidity, and also confirmed intellectuals' self-conscious reticence about indulging in dumb fun; however, the glee in his voice as he spins his adolescent fantasies can undermine his point. Indeed, that enjoyment, also evident in the silly wordplay, suggests that Zappa is throwing his juvenile crassness in the face of critical expectation, asserting his right to follow his muse even if it leads him into blatant stupidity (ironic or otherwise). One can read this motif into the absurd shaggy-dog story of a dental floss rancher in "Montana," the album's indisputable highlight, which features amazing, uncredited vocal backing from Tina Turner and the Ikettes. As with much of Zappa's best '70s and '80s material, Over-Nite Sensation could be perceived as ideologically problematic (if you haven't got the constitution for FZ's humor), but musically, it's terrific.© Steve Huey /TiVo

The musically similar follow-up to the commercial breakthrough of Over-Nite Sensation, Apostrophe (') became Frank Zappa's second gold and only Top Ten album with the help of the "doggy wee-wee" jokes of "Don't Eat the Yellow Snow," Zappa's first chart single (a longer, edited version that used portions of other songs on the LP). The first half of the album is full of nonsensical shaggy-dog story songs that segue into one another without seeming to finish themselves first; their dirty jokes are generally more subtle and veiled than the more notorious cuts on Over-Nite Sensation. The second half contains the instrumental title cut, featuring Jack Bruce on bass; "Uncle Remus," an update of Zappa's critique of racial discord on "Trouble Every Day"; and a return to the album's earlier silliness in "Stink-Foot." Apostrophe (') has the narrative feel of a concept album, but aside from its willful absurdity, the concept is difficult to decipher; even so, that doesn't detract from its entertainment value.© Steve Huey /TiVo

Shelby Lynne has followed her own sometimes reckless, always adventuresome muse throughout her career. Just a Little Lovin' is her personal homage to the late, legendary Dusty Springfield. Nine of its ten cuts are inextricably linked to the late British vocalist whose sway Lynne came under years ago, but a chance conversation with Barry Manilow -- of all people -- led to the making of this record. Lynne doesn't attempt to sound like Springfield. She uses her own phrasing and rhythmic sensibility. Four cuts here come from the Dusty in Memphis period, as well as the title track to The Look of Love and some of her mid-'60s British hits that were not released in America. All these songs, with the exception of the self-penned "Pretend," were recorded by Springfield. The album was recorded in the Capitol Records studio with Frank Sinatra's microphone and producer Phil Ramone. Lynne's aesthetic sense serves her well: most singers automatically shoot for "Son of a Preacher Man," but Lynne steers clear. She does, however, tackle some truly monolithic Springfield hits: "Just a Little Lovin'," "Breakfast in Bed," "Willie and Laura Mae Jones," and "I Don't Want to Hear It Anymore." Lynne's readings are close, intimate. They're understated but more direct. Ramone used a small quartet in guitarist Dean Parks, keyboardist Rob Mathes, drummer Gregg Field, and bassist Kevin Axt to give her that edge. Lynne's delivery takes these songs straight to the listener's belly. The taut but easy sensuality in her voice adds a very different dimension to them. When she gets to the in-the-pocket feel of "Breakfast in Bed," she comes at the tune's subject with an up-front sexual expression -- Springfield's trademark vulnerability is willfully absent. A Rhodes and Parks' guitar give her plenty of room to pour out the lyric. "Willie and Laura Mae Jones" has a rough, swampy earthiness; Lynne adds her guitar to its sparse, slow growl. Springfield recorded this tome about interracial love when the subject was taboo in America. She made it palatable with her innocent delivery. Lynne gets at Tony Joe White's lyric with a bluesy toughness expressing incredulity toward injustice. Randy Newman's "I Don't Want to Hear It Anymore" carries inside it the trace of both Lynne's Southern homeland and her adopted West Coast residency. She can tell this heartbreaking tale as if it were her own while uncannily recalling Springfield's empathy. Signature Springfield pieces such as "I Only Want to Be with You" are astonishing for their contrast. The bubbly, poppy original version is slowed here; it offers the impression of genuine surprise by an unsuspecting protagonist. The jazzy piano and Parks' lush guitar lines entwine perfectly. Springfield's version of "The Look of Love" has remained unchallenged for more than 40 years. Lynne doesn't even try. Instead she offers tribute. It's not as sultry as the original was, but feels honest and hungry in stripping off the lyric's mask with her voice. "How Can I Be Sure" by the Rascals -- cut as a British-only single by Springfield -- is startling: Lynne sings it accompanied only by Parks' guitar. It's a radical but fitting closer. Just a Little Lovin' is the finest tribute Springfield has ever received on tape. That such a fine singer and songwriter interpreted her in such an empathic and sophisticated manner is respect personified. Ramone's care with the project is, as usual, celebratory. The multidimensional persona Lynne usually displays on her records is still here in spades. Her diversity, confidence, and wide-ranging ability are the standard to aspire to.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

God bless Brandi Carlile and Shooter Jennings who, unlike other artists bewitched by the legacy of classic country stars, haven't forced Tanya Tucker into retro drag. In producing their second collaboration with the leather-and-lace legend, the two instead have helped her come up with a collection of songs that sounds like 2023. Which isn't to say the "Delta Dawn" singer isn't willing to look back on her storied (and rollercoaster) life and career. She sounds bright and shiny as a new penny on "The List" and like she's having the time of her life—even letting out a happy growl—as she sings about her bad old ways. "Y'all heard stories about my past/ And they're probably true," she sings alongside John Schreffler's wailing steel guitar. And yet: "That list of things you don't like about me/ Is gonna be shorter than mine." Heck, the album opens with "Tanya" and the creaky warblings of her old pal Billie Joe Shaver, who passed away in 2020, accompanied only by the blowing wind: "The glow from the light all around her/ Show off her beauty so well/ She looks like a heavenly angel/ But Tanya is meaner than hell." Yes, she is very in on the joke, if you want to call it that, of having been a headline-grabbing hell-raiser in her youth. But, as someone who's going to finally be inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame this fall—more than 50 years after her first hit, at age 13—she's also completely in awe of the genre's history. "All you outlaws/ and the Opry queens/ They wrapped those golden arms around the baby of the family," she sings on "Ready As I'll Never Be," a tribute to the lost stars of the past, inspired in part by Shaver's death. It's a real tearjerker and you can hear the pained emotion in her voice (which, by the way, sounds great). She also honors Linda Ronstadt, on the sweeping "Letter to Linda." "You always were my favorite/ The greatest ... I know you've been struggling/ Being in the shadows for so long/ I just had to reach out to you/ And say you shaped me with your songs," she sings to Ronstadt, whose singing career was cruelly sidelined more than a decade ago by Parkinson's disease. Meanwhile, Carlile pays personal homage to Tucker by duetting with her on "Breakfast in Birmingham," a banjo-led number with real C&W twang and cinematic lyrics by Bernie Taupin. Carlile, who brings along her own bandmates Phil & Tim Hanseroth to harmonize on the album like angels, also gifts Tucker the excellent album-closing ballad, "When the Rodeo is Over (Where Does the Cowboy Go?)."  "Your heart can't take the losing/ And your knees can't take the blows," Tucker sings, aware of the ravages of time but not yet ready to step out of her own boots. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Shelby Lynne has followed her own sometimes reckless, always adventuresome muse throughout her career. Just a Little Lovin' is her personal homage to the late, legendary Dusty Springfield. Nine of its ten cuts are inextricably linked to the late British vocalist whose sway Lynne came under years ago, but a chance conversation with Barry Manilow -- of all people -- led to the making of this record. Lynne doesn't attempt to sound like Springfield. She uses her own phrasing and rhythmic sensibility. Four cuts here come from the Dusty in Memphis period, as well as the title track to The Look of Love and some of her mid-'60s British hits that were not released in America. All these songs, with the exception of the self-penned "Pretend," were recorded by Springfield. The album was recorded in the Capitol Records studio with Frank Sinatra's microphone and producer Phil Ramone. Lynne's aesthetic sense serves her well: most singers automatically shoot for "Son of a Preacher Man," but Lynne steers clear. She does, however, tackle some truly monolithic Springfield hits: "Just a Little Lovin'," "Breakfast in Bed," "Willie and Laura Mae Jones," and "I Don't Want to Hear It Anymore." Lynne's readings are close, intimate. They're understated but more direct. Ramone used a small quartet in guitarist Dean Parks, keyboardist Rob Mathes, drummer Gregg Field, and bassist Kevin Axt to give her that edge. Lynne's delivery takes these songs straight to the listener's belly. The taut but easy sensuality in her voice adds a very different dimension to them. When she gets to the in-the-pocket feel of "Breakfast in Bed," she comes at the tune's subject with an up-front sexual expression -- Springfield's trademark vulnerability is willfully absent. A Rhodes and Parks' guitar give her plenty of room to pour out the lyric. "Willie and Laura Mae Jones" has a rough, swampy earthiness; Lynne adds her guitar to its sparse, slow growl. Springfield recorded this tome about interracial love when the subject was taboo in America. She made it palatable with her innocent delivery. Lynne gets at Tony Joe White's lyric with a bluesy toughness expressing incredulity toward injustice. Randy Newman's "I Don't Want to Hear It Anymore" carries inside it the trace of both Lynne's Southern homeland and her adopted West Coast residency. She can tell this heartbreaking tale as if it were her own while uncannily recalling Springfield's empathy. Signature Springfield pieces such as "I Only Want to Be with You" are astonishing for their contrast. The bubbly, poppy original version is slowed here; it offers the impression of genuine surprise by an unsuspecting protagonist. The jazzy piano and Parks' lush guitar lines entwine perfectly. Springfield's version of "The Look of Love" has remained unchallenged for more than 40 years. Lynne doesn't even try. Instead she offers tribute. It's not as sultry as the original was, but feels honest and hungry in stripping off the lyric's mask with her voice. "How Can I Be Sure" by the Rascals -- cut as a British-only single by Springfield -- is startling: Lynne sings it accompanied only by Parks' guitar. It's a radical but fitting closer. Just a Little Lovin' is the finest tribute Springfield has ever received on tape. That such a fine singer and songwriter interpreted her in such an empathic and sophisticated manner is respect personified. Ramone's care with the project is, as usual, celebratory. The multidimensional persona Lynne usually displays on her records is still here in spades. Her diversity, confidence, and wide-ranging ability are the standard to aspire to.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

If one were to listen only to "My Favorite Things," the Richard Rodgers-Oscar Hammerstein Great American Songbook standard that opens Same Girl, one might deduce that Korea's Youn Sun Nah is just another cabaret singer with a pretty voice. The kalimba with which she is accompanying herself as she sings -- the sole instrument heard -- lends a sense of purity to the tune, and although the vocalist avoids the usual routes taken with the song, there's no real reason to get excited. Yet. Then things get interesting, fast. As she works her way through material from sources as diverse as Randy Newman, Sergio Mendes, and Metallica -- yes, Metallica; she does a mean "Enter Sandman" -- in addition to two original compositions and a Korean standard, Nah establishes that, in fact, she is incontestably an original, a jazz singer of great range, complexity, emotion, and ideas. Precision timing and sharp diction mark Nah's approach as she traverses the lyrics, but it's not only her technical prowess that makes Same Girl (her second release as a leader on the ACT label, after having spent a decade with a French band) such a delight. For one thing, she is constantly full of surprises. On the Mendes tune, "Song of No Regrets," Nah could have followed the rule book and sung the number as a samba. Instead, she turns it into a near a cappella minimalist dirge, Lars Danielsson's cello bringing to the rendition an unexpected eeriness and majesty. Terry Cox's "Moondog" is something else altogether, all jutting angles and piercing barbs, Ulf Wakenius' guitar and Xavier Desandre-Navarre's drums seemingly flailing willy-nilly behind Nah's warbles, yet somehow making perfect sense in the context of the arrangement, even when Nah breaks the solemnity with a jarring kazoo solo, of all things. For a real taste of her ability to knock a listener out cold, though, Wakenius' "Breakfast in Baghdad" is the place to go: to call Nah a scat singer is like calling John Coltrane a guy who fooled around a bit with the sax. Nah is a wildwoman let loose, treating each syllable as a new adventure in acrobatics, the musicians flying free and fancifully behind her captivating, seriously stunning ravings. Youn Sun Nah doesn't simply interpret; any good jazz signer can do that. She gets to the root of a melody and a lyric, deconstructs it wholly, and then presents it in a way it's never before been heard. Not many around who can do that anymore.© Jeff Tamarkin /TiVo

With Breakfast in America, Supertramp had a genuine blockbuster hit, topping the charts for four weeks in the U.S. and selling millions of copies worldwide; by the 1990s, the album had sold over 18 million units across the world. Although their previous records had some popular success, they never even hinted at the massive sales of Breakfast in America. Then again, Supertramp's earlier records weren't as pop-oriented as Breakfast. The majority of the album consisted of tightly written, catchy, well-constructed pop songs, like the hits "The Logical Song," "Take the Long Way Home," and "Goodbye Stranger." Supertramp still had a tendency to indulge themselves occasionally, but Breakfast in America had very few weak moments. It was clearly their high-water mark.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

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A complete triumph, the third album from Michelle Zauner, aka Japanese Breakfast, is simply beautiful. While her first two LPs explored the anguish of her mother's cancer diagnosis and treatment (Psychopomp) and subsequent death (Soft Sounds from Another Planet), Jubilee starts Zauner's own recovery process—and pursuit of happiness. Opener "Paprika" is an instant mood lift, all rolling drums and lazily swaying horns, that finds Zauner refusing to take good fortune for granted: "How's it feel … projecting your visions to strangers who feel it, who listen, who linger on every word? How? It's a rush!" (One of her greatest storytelling talents is not leaning on trite rhymes.) "Kokomo, IN" is like a tropical breeze with an undercurrent of gently heart-tugging strings. All that joyful noise, however, doesn't mean faking it until she makes it. Zauner lets herself luxuriate in lyrically dark corners even as the music—at times reminiscent of the Cardigans, Björk, Kate Bush—shines bright. "Tactics" is so lovely and romantic sounding it could almost be from a Disney movie, but she's singing about pulling away from a toxic relationship with her father. The horns of "Posing in Bondage" blow in like smoke; even when the Robyn-like dance beat kicks in, you never forget it's a ballad about being lonely in a relationship. And then there is the absolutely devastating "In Hell." Zauner has described it as being "about putting my dog down and thinking, 'Why couldn't we just have this option when my mom was dying?'" The keyboard is jaunty, the horns are sunny, and Zauner sings "With my luck you'll be dead within the year/ I've come to expect it … Hell is finding someone to love and I can't have you." Earlier this year, Zauner published her bestselling memoir Crying in H Mart, an expansion of the shockingly beautiful and moving New Yorker essay of the same name in which she used the Korean American supermarket chain as an outlet for grieving her mother's death. Both in the pages and in these songs, she is fighting her way back to joy. You can hear it in the second-chance promise of "Be Sweet" and its disco dancefloor pulse, as Zauner croons, "So come and get your woman/ Pacify her rage." And even when the world goes dark, she's reclaiming her sense of humor. "Savage Good Boy" is a deliciously sly commentary on billionaires buying apocalyptic bunkers: "And when the city's underwater/ I will wine and dine you in the hollows/ On a surplus of freeze dried food." Survival, it turns out, is a funny thing. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Recorded in the wake of the global success of Breakfast in America, Paris is a competent but ultimately unnecessary live album that fails to live up to the standards of Supertramp's studio material.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

The Crux of the Biscuit is the fourth installment of the Project/Object series that offers a peek behind the curtain at the making of FZ's albums, in this case, Apostrophe ('). If you don't know Apostrophe ('), there's really no context for this material. The first quarter or so of the album is an early sequence of side one, all with 1973 mixes by Kerry McNabb. However, these versions differ in various ways from the ones used on Apostrophe ('). "Cosmik Debris" is basically exactly the same, with the addition of a very brief additional intro. "Uncle Remus" is exactly the same up until the end of the guitar solo, then we hear some alternate vocal tracks and the backup singers (the Ikettes!) are much higher up in the mix. "Down in de Dew" was first released on the 1987 cassette The Guitar World According to Frank Zappa. Like the tune "Apostrophe'," it began as a studio jam session with Jack Bruce and Jim Gordon, but Frank erased everything but the drum tracks, later overdubbing guitar, fretless guitar, and bass to create "Down in de Dew." After that, we're treated to the track "Apostrophe'" from the album, but this is the original, unedited version! It should be noted that this is FZ's sequencing, but almost certainly not the tracks he would have used or they would have called it a build reel. Next up is a spoken track where Frank describes the original inspiration for the "Don't Eat the Yellow Snow" medley, followed by a 20-plus-minute excerpt of the fantastic 1973 band performing said medley. The 1973 band is always worth hearing, and Frank really puts them through their paces at one point. "Excentrifugal Forz" is a cool, alternate 1973 mix that leads to probably the most interesting part of the album for fans (at least as far as conceptual continuity goes). The three takes of "Energy Frontier" are basically studio tryouts with Jim Gordon and Jack Bruce, sometimes aided by others. The first two takes of "Energy Frontier" are clearly where the drum tracks for "Down in de Dew" were taken from. The song idea is there, but neither take really gels, so it makes sense Frank would scrap everything but the drums and do it himself. Even more interesting is "Energy Frontier (Bridge)," not because it's an amazing performance (it isn't, really) but because a subsequent take of it would be retitled "Apostrophe'" for album inclusion!! The next version of "Cosmik Debris" is a different complete take of the basic tracks (no vocals) that features some wicked guitar work. The rest is a bit anticlimactic: an incomplete alternate take of "Don't Eat the Yellow Snow" and a couple short, rather poorly edited spoken snippets. So Crux is a bit of a mixed bag. If you're not a fan of the album Apostrophe ('), there's no point in buying this one, but there's plenty here for fans, even if you only listen to the spoken tracks and snippets once. © Sean Westergaard /TiVo