While both Liam Gallagher and Noel Gallagher have had some pretty good moments in their hit-or-miss solo careers, neither has been able to match what they had together as brothers in Oasis: the one-upmanship competition that pushed both to be better, yes, but also the us-against-the-world sibling camaraderie. Both need a foil to play off. Liam has been winning the race recently, though. For one thing, he's found the right producer in Greg Kurstin (Adele, Foo Fighters), who pushed him to great heights with 2022's C'mon You Know. But now he's teamed up with one of his hometown heroes: John Squire, legendary guitarist for Manchester's beloved Stone Roses, the band that Liam has said made him want to get behind a microphone. And damn if it's not an absolutely delightful, inspired pairing. (And if it makes Noel jealous, bonus points—right?) He's also brought Kurstin along for the ride, which was a wise decision. The set-up works as Oasis used to: Squire writes the songs, à la Noel, and Liam is just Liam. He sounds terrific here, and unmistakable. So does Squire, who absolutely wails on the excellent, Stone Roses-esque "Just Another Rainbow" and struts his stuff for groovy "Mars to Liverpool"; it's easy to imagine Oasis having gone in that direction had they not split in 2009. But the two don't just nod at their own past bands. Irresistible "One Day At a Time," which practically casts Squire's showy guitar as a duet partner for Liam, lifts a bit of the Rolling Stones' "Paint It, Black." Muscular "I'm So Bored" cribs from the Beatles' "Paperback Writer" (which also means it feels especially Oasis-esque). And "Love You Forever," which puts a psychedelic Madchester effect on Liam's sneer, owes a big debt to Hendrix and "Purple Haze." It's also boosted by monster fills from Joey Waronker—because if you're going to bring two Mancunian legends to Los Angeles to make a record, why not get that town's best studio drummer? Waronker adds a real kick to "You're Not the Only One," which also features great boogie-woogie piano and Squire's snarling runs. Single "Raise Your Hands" is a bit paint-by-numbers, but "I'm a Wheel" is unexpected: Squire and Kurstin, on bass, letting loose on 12-bar blues while an energized Liam delivers goofy lines like "Lock all the doors/ These aren't the droids/ You're looking for." It seems weird on paper—but wow, it works. (Thanks to Squire, too, for giving him lyrics like "Thank you for your thoughts and prayers/ And fuck you too" to gleefully nail.) "Mother Nature's Song" feels the most like a real Oasis-Roses crossover: Mersey paradise meets Beatlemania. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

All the Young Dudes actually brought Mott the Hoople success, but you wouldn't know that from its sequel, Mott. Ian Hunter's songs are a set of road tales fraught with exhaustion, disillusionment, and dashed dreams, all told with a wry sense of humor so evident on Mott's earlier work. This is no ordinary road album where a band whines about the perils of traveling -- it's more of a wry commentary on rock & roll itself, which, as Hunter notes, is a "loser's game." Mott doesn't sound that way, though -- it's as winning and infectious as rock & roll gets. Even with the undercurrents of ironic despair and restrained hostility, this is a fun record (partially because of that despair and hostility, of course). This sounds better, looser, than All the Young Dudes, as the band jives through "All the Way from Memphis" and "Honaloochie Boogie," beats the living hell outta "Violence," swaggers on "Whizz Kid," and simply drives it home on "Drivin' Sister." Apart from the New York Dolls (who, after all, were in a league of their own), glam never sounds as rock as it does here. To top it all off, Hunter writes the best lament for rock ever with "Ballad of Mott the Hoople," a song that conveys just how heartbreaking rock & roll is for the average band. If that wasn't enough, he trumps that song with the closer "I Wish I Was Your Mother," a peerless breakup song that still surprises, even after it's familiar. It's a graceful, unexpected way to close a record that stands as one of the best of its era.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

This 2015 release is the first full-length soundtrack album for the ITV series Broadchurch. Expanding on the 2013 EP of season one highlights, it includes selections from the first two seasons of Icelandic composer Ólafur Arnalds' (Gimme Shelter, The Hunger Games) salient, BAFTA Award-winning score for the popular U.K. murder mystery show. With the exception of "So Close" and "So Far," which feature Arnór Dan on vocals, instrumentation is limited to piano, electronics, and strings, the latter recorded in a Reykjavik church for a natural reverberation. The music is widely considered to be a vital component of the show's foreboding atmosphere. © Marcy Donelson /TiVo

"Theessink's music evokes empathy, warmth, and hope. His roots-inflected delivery and folk musical reference make him the perfect conduit for this uniquely 21st-century spin on the Jedermann story." © TiVo

As the title suggests, this is the definitive edition of Etta James' Tell Mama long-player. For this single-disc release the original album is augmented with five previously unissued tracks -- documented during James' four Muscle Shoals sessions circa '67-'68. The question of why a rural Alabama town became a conduit for some of the most memorable and instantly identifiable grooves may still be up for debate. The evidence exists in droves and Tell Mama could certainly be considered exhibit A. These sessions feature the same impact that would redirect several first ladies of soul. Notable among them are Dusty Springfield's Dusty in Memphis, Aretha Franklin's I Never Loved a Man (The Way I Love You) and to somewhat lesser acclaim, Jackie DeShannon's Jackie. Tell Mama showcases some of the unique and admittedly darker qualities of what might best be described as R&B noir. "I'd Rather Go Blind," "Steal Away," "I'm Gonna Take What He's Got" all exemplify the essence of the blues -- making the best of a bad situation. The flipside of the sombre subject matter is the satisfying conviction in the music -- which is where the remastering becomes particularly noticeable. No longer does the brass section sound alternately muffled or harsh as it has on previous releases. Likewise, the churning Hammond B-3 organ swells with rich textures. Perhaps the most sonically evident improvements are the subtle ones, such as the supple fretwork on "Sweet Dreams," "I'd Rather Go Blind," and the jazzy percussive shuffle of "The Same Rope." © Lindsay Planer /TiVo

Leonard Chess dispatched Etta James to Muscle Shoals in 1967, and the move paid off with one of her best and most soul-searing Cadet albums. Produced by Rick Hall, the resultant album boasted a relentlessly driving title cut, the moving soul ballad "I'd Rather Go Blind," and sizzling covers of Otis Redding's "Security" and Jimmy Hughes' "Don't Lose Your Good Thing," and a pair of fine Don Covay copyrights. The skin-tight session aces at Fame Studios really did themselves proud behind Miss Peaches.© Bill Dahl /TiVo

On 2003's Shootenanny!, Eels frontman and songwriter Mark Oliver Everett seemed to approach his work with fresh ears. He cut through his own trademark lyric and production excesses (very evident on the wonderfully messy and rocked-up Souljacker) and came up with an offering of quirky, sparking tunes that were shot through with American roots music and his trademark power pop hooks, while never compromising his stubbornly iconoclastic way of looking at the world. The same cannot be said for Blinking Lights and Other Revelations. Over 90 minutes and 33 songs, E opens his own, personal Pandora's Box and lets everything out musically, lyrically, and emotionally. This is the most searingly personal album E and his ad hoc stable of cohorts have recorded since Electro-Shock Blues -- though it's not as unremittingly dark. The handsomely designed double digipack is adorned with familial photographs -- including a cover shot of his mother as a child. Strings, brass, tinkling bells, and gauzy layers of sonic textures stream through these haphazard songs. In fact, despite the appearance of family, childhood, changing times, and other concerns of personal narrative, Blinking Lights is not a unified album; its tunes are gathered seemingly willy-nilly conceptually. No matter; it is E's world-weary voice that holds the disparate parts of the album together in a loose, soft web that envelopes him and the listener. It sits dead center, allowing the tensions, textures, and moods to grip and release him at will. He expresses it all honestly, without immersion or unnecessary put-on detachment. It is his voice that gives the record a type of spiritual quality, one that seems to gauge lessons learned -- either with acceptance or rejection -- from the various truths revealed. Family and history are woven together over the entirety to create not only introspection but a sense of time's slippage, emotional and physical displacement, and grief that is offset in places by poignant humor. Disc one's standouts include the glorious "Railroad Man," a country-ish lament for that quickly disappearing way of life, while "Son of a Bitch," with its elegant saxophones, weepy pedal steel, and stately pace, offsets the painful revelation of the protagonist, "Going Fetal," a new dance tune (à la the Twist) features a vocal sample by Tom Waits and a faux, live rave-up setting fueled completely by a loopy Wurlitzer and a lyric that expresses with true irony the perceived joy of escape. "Mother Mary" is a stomping organ and rhythm-driven track that references reggae and carnival music. Its subject matter is offset by the musical attack and the eerie sound of an empty playground swing weaving its way through the mix. The second disc begins with the elegiac yet shimmering "Dust of Ages," which feels like a demo from Peter Gabriel's second album. "I'm Going to Stop Pretending That I Didn't Break Your Heart" is gem-like pop/rock balladry, while "Dusk: A Peach in the Orchard" -- co-written with the Lovin' Spoonful's John Sebastian -- is a modern folk song that comes from the broken heart of memory, and could have been written during the Civil War era. R.E.M.'s Peter Buck co-wrote and performs on the ironic "To Lick Your Boots." The set closes with the bittersweet personal testament "Things the Grandchildren Should Know." It's unfocused and leaky lyrically, but it gets to emotional places most songwriters only dream of. Blinking Lights and Other Revelations is blessed because of -- not in spite of -- its excesses. It's not like anything else out there right now. It makes no apologies, it's shaky in places, and there are cuts that don't seemingly belong on either disc but fit within the context of the album as a whole. It feels like E and his collaborators have made an honest to goodness indie rock record, one that is immediate yet whose depths cannot be fathomed immediately. It's unwieldy, too long, irritating in some places, graceful in others, and sometimes clumsy. But it is utterly original and startlingly beautiful. At this juncture, records like this are almost museum pieces, mistakenly and cynically written off to the delusions of pop grandeur of earlier eras. Thank goodness rock music as we once knew it still exists in the minds and hearts of some of our more perceptive artists. E is one of them; he put everything into making Blinking Lights and Other Revelations, and the payoff is that it shows.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

A live document of the Brian Jones-era Rolling Stones sounds enticing, but the actual product is a letdown, owing to a mixture of factors, some beyond the producers' control and other very much their doing. The sound on the original LP was lousy, and for that matter not all of it's live; a couple of old studio R&B covers were augmented by screaming fans that had obviously been overdubbed. Still, the album has its virtues as a historical document, with some extremely important caveats for anyone not old enough to recognize the inherent limitations in a live album of this vintage. The first concerns the history of this release -- the Got Live if You Want It! album (not to be confused with the superior sounding but much shorter, U.K.-only extended-play single, issued in England in mid-1965) was a U.S.-only release in late 1966, intended to feed a seemingly insatiable American market. As a best-of album had been issued in March 1966 and Aftermath in June of the same year, and the Stones had just come off of a major U.S. tour (which proved to be their last for over three years), another album was needed to bridge the gap in America between the those earlier LPs, the two most recent singles -- "Paint It, Black" and "Have You Seen Your Mother, Baby, Standing in the Shadow?" -- and the Between the Buttons album, which was not going to make it out in time for the Christmas season. The result was Got Live If You Want It!, which was intended to be recorded at a concert at Royal Albert Hall on September 23, 1966, the Stones' first live appearance in England in over a year. The problem was, as was memorably stated by a writer in Rolling Stone magazine a few years later, the Stones in those days didn't play concerts -- they played riots, and that was precisely what happened at Royal Albert Hall, as several hundred fans charged the stage, overwhelming the band before they'd gotten through the opening number "Paint It, Black." The scene was captured in the footage later used in the promotional film for "Have You Seen Your Mother, Baby, Standing in the Shadow?" What was left of the show, once order was restored, was taped, along with at least two other shows on that tour over the next week or so; and it should also be remembered that in those days the group seldom played for more than 30 to 40 minutes, and sometimes less than that, much like the Beatles in concert. And the audience noise, much as it was with the Beatles, was overwhelming in the days before stacks of Marshall amps became routine in a band's equipment; indeed, at some shows, at certain moments, only the tempo of Charlie Watts' drumming could tell you which song the group was playing, and the bandmembers couldn't hear much more than the crowd -- matters such as tuning instruments and precise playing, even down to the most routine changes, became exercises in futility. Add to that the limitations of live recording, and the inevitable sound leakages and other problems, and one can see how this album was easier to conceive than to actually bring off successfully. When all of the tapes were assembled, the producers were left with about 28 minutes of material that was usable to varying degrees, and even that was somewhat wishful thinking by the standards of the day. (Apart from the Kinks' Live at Kelvin Hall [aka The Live Kinks], few groups or record labels in 1967 had the courage to release a concert album that sounded like the real article.) And here, someone -- the Stones' producer, London Records, whoever -- started fiddling around, twirling knobs, changing balances, and making the stuff supposedly sound "better," and bringing in a couple of studio tracks, "I've Been Loving You Too Long" and "Fortune Teller," and laying on some crowd noise to bring the show up to an acceptable length for an LP.© Richie Unterberger & Bruce Eder /TiVo

If you've never heard Blind Willie Johnson, you are in for one of the great, bone-chilling treats in music. Johnson played slide guitar and sang in a rasping, false bass that could freeze the blood. But no bluesman was he; this was gospel music of the highest order, full of emotion and heartfelt commitment. Of all the guitar-playing evangelists, Blind Willie Johnson may have been the very best. Though not related by bloodlines to Robert Johnson, comparisons in the emotional commitment of both men cannot be helped. This two-CD anthology collects everything known to exist, and that's a lot of stark, harrowing, emotional commitment no matter how you slice it. Not for the faint of heart, but hey, the good stuff never is.© Cub Koda /TiVo

Queen guitarist Brian May's first complete attempt at a solo album, Back to the Light, focuses on the hard rock sound that Queen often abandoned in the 1980s. While obviously sounding similar to some of the work by his former band, May's path is far more hard-edged and emotionally punched than the majority of Queen's work. His vocals are sometimes weak for a singer, but they also add a certain tenderness that most hard rock frontmen seem to lack. The album succeeds best on its heaviest tracks such as the cover of "Rollin' Over" or "Resurrection," which features pounding drums courtesy of Cozy Powell and thundering guitar riffs with Queen-like multi-tracked vocals. References to Queen can also be heard in the eccentric humor of such numbers as "Love Token," which includes a back-and-forth dialogue in the middle of the song. Likewise, the low-key country song, "Let Your Heart Rule Your Head," is reminiscent of "'39" off Queen's A Night at the Opera. The ballads are not as strong or as interesting and are not helped by well-meaning but overly sentimental lyrics and light rock arrangements. Unfortunately, the instrumental, "Last Horizon," ends up sounding like Muzak. "Driven By You," the album's biggest hit, was originally written for a Ford commercial, and it shows. That said, it is great to hear May finally get a chance to rock out and while the over-the-top and eccentric stylings of the album might put off some, it is those same traits that will also attract many to this work. [Note: The CD version of the album contains a remix of "Driven By You."]© Geoff Orens /TiVo

Neko Case looks formidable on the cover of Middle Cyclone, brandishing a sword in one hand while crouching low on the hood of a muscle car. It's mostly camp, of course -- the sort of superwoman image that Quentin Tarantino might have used for Death Proof's ad campaign -- but it also draws contrast with Case's past albums, two of which featured moody shots of the songwriter sprawled on the floor, ostensibly knocked out. Middle Cyclone isn't the polar opposite of Blacklisted's downcast Americana; there are still moments of heartbreak on this release, and Case channels the sad cowgirl blues with all the nuance of Patsy Cline. Multiple years in the New Pornographers' lineup have brightened her outlook, though, and Middle Cyclone balances its melancholia with some of the most pop-influenced choruses of Case's career. "I'm a man-man-maneater," she sings on "People Got a Lotta Nerve," a snappy gem of vocal harmonies and jangled guitars. The mammal metaphors continue with "I'm an Animal," where a coed choir hums a wordless, hooky refrain. These songs are still filled with earth tones -- they may even pitch their tent closer to the folk camp than Carl Newman's power pop -- but their venture into brighter territory is a confident one.Of course, Neko Case already explored the animal world with 2006's Fox Confessor Brings the Flood, and Middle Cyclone devotes more time to weather, nature, and the stormy atmospherics provided by her backup band. There are few voices as haunting as Case's alto, and she flaunts her vocal chops over a number of semi-ballads, from the cinematic "Prison Girls" (a country-noir love letter to someone with "long shadows and gunpowder eyes") to the sparse title track. She does a surprise duet with chirping birds during "Polar Nettles" -- a result of the pastoral recording sessions, which took place in a barn -- before tackling a cover of Sparks' "Never Turn Your Back on Mother Earth," whose title very well may be the album's mission statement. There's still room to tackle love from the perspective of different characters -- a man in "Vengeance Is Sleeping," a disbeliever in "The Next Time You Say Forever," a smitten wind vortex in "This Tornado Loves You" -- but nature remains at the forefront of Middle Cyclone, whose 14 songs conclude with a half-hour field recording of noisy crickets and frogs. Moody and engaging throughout, Cyclone is another tour de force from Neko Case, if not as immediately arresting as Fox Confessor.© Andrew Leahey /TiVo

In the age of remixing, sampling and cut-and-paste record-making, leave it to Sparks to beat everyone to the punch and put the '90s spin on their own catalog before someone else did. Nineteen Sparks favorites are tackled here, including a super Hi-NRG version of "The Number One Song in Heaven" and a keenly orchestrated "This Town Ain't Big Enough for Both of Us," both delivered with a hand from their friends in opera-rock: Jimmy Somerville and Faith No More, respectively.© Denise Sullivan /TiVo

Keep the Faith reintroduced Bon Jovi after almost four years of side projects and hiatuses. The musical climate had shifted considerably in that time, a fact that wasn't lost on the band. Faith blatantly brought to the surface the Bruce Springsteen influence that was always lurking in Bon Jovi's sound, and used it to frame Faith's more serious interpretation of the band's pop-metal groove. "I Believe" and "I'll Sleep When I'm Dead" both amped up the blue-collar, gospel revivalist feel of Springsteen's "Tunnel of Love," dropping in triumphant power chord changes to ensure arena readiness. But Bon Jovi also took a page from Springsteen's Big Book of Epic Songwriting, padding Faith's center with ambitious balladry and a nearly ten-minute story-song, "Dry County," that wouldn't be out of place on a '70s rock album. Elsewhere, the hit single "Bed of Roses" wisely aimed for the verdant adult contemporary pastures pointed to by Bryan Adams with 1991's "(Everything I Do) I Do It for You," instead of gripping stupidly to the Aqua-Netted mane of glam rock power balladry. Some of the album's straightforward hard rock songs faltered, since they didn't sizzle like the band's vintage material and fell flat next to more inspired material like "In These Arms." But while miles of open highway separated the songwriting of Jon Bon Jovi and his mates from that of Springsteen, Keep the Faith deserves plenty of points for ambition, and it did succeed in updating the band's sound -- even if the replacement parts were bought used.© Johnny Loftus /TiVo

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The second installment in ABKCO's series of box sets containing CD replicas of the Rolling Stones' singles and EPs, Singles 1965-1967 covers the classic period between "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" and "In Another Land," the time when the Stones started to reach beyond their hard blues base, and created some of their most indelible music. Like the previous box, Singles 1963-1965, each of the group's British and American singles and EPs are represented, reproduced in paper sleeves and pressed on all-black CDs designed to look like a 45. Where that set had some rarities -- including the first release of such classic EPs as The Rolling Stones, 5 X 5, and Got Live If You Want It! -- every cut on this box has been on CD before (all showed up on the triple-disc The Singles Collection: The London Years) and there is a slight tweaking of history here, with certain singles (like "Satisfaction," "Get Off of My Cloud," and "Paint It, Black") containing both the American and British B-sides. This may upset some purists, but it's a clever, efficient way to cover this ground; plus, even with the added song these discs run well under ten minutes, so it's a nice bonus that beefs up the discs slightly and makes them more listenable. Of course, this isn't designed for listenability in the first place, since changing the 11 discs is cumbersome, even with a multi-disc player -- it's really a set to look at and admire, to gaze at each of the picture sleeves. But, if they're listened to a disc at a time, it does reveal what a splendid singles band the Rolling Stones were. There has never been a single as snide and cynical as "Satisfaction" backed by "The Under Assistant West Coast Promotion Man," while there has never been one as nasty and antisocial as "Paint It, Black" b/w "Stupid Girl," and their rebel reputation was cemented by "Get Off of My Cloud" b/w "I'm Free." These are revelations that this set makes clear through its singles replicas, and it helps make this set a necessary purchase for the hardcore.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo