Surprisingly, very few artists can float a digital-age collection of number one singles without resorting to trickery involving foreign countries or obscure charts. The Beatles had little trouble (The Beatles 1) and Elvis Presley managed both a disc of number ones (Elvis: 30 #1 Hits) and one of number twos (2nd to None), but Michael Jackson bent the rules so far that calling his disc Number Ones is tantamount to consumer fraud. Additionally, a collection of number one singles may not be the best representation of an artist's career; the Elvis volume included nothing from his Sun years, and the Beatles' set skipped "Strawberry Fields Forever." The #1's, Motown's collection of chart-toppers by Diana Ross & the Supremes, fares much better. It benefits from two Supremes characteristics: as a pop group through and through, their biggest hits were often their best songs, and, with the help of the solo Diana Ross, they spent a long time on the charts (nearly 20 years separates the Supremes' debut at the top from Ross' last number one single). While Motown's separate volumes on Diana Ross and the Supremes (in the Ultimate Collection series) remain the best source for a single-disc picture of either act, The #1's works remarkably well. It includes 19 number one pop singles (13 from the group, six from the solo Ross), plus various number ones on the R&B and dance charts, and there aren't any glaring omissions. Granted, fans of early Motown can't live without the girl-group chestnuts "Buttered Popcorn" and "Your Heart Belongs to Me," while those who enjoy latter-day Ross won't find "One More Chance" or "Why Do Fools Fall in Love?" -- but of course, this collection wasn't created with them in mind. For the group who recorded more hit singles during the '60s than any other act except the Beatles, and for one of the reigning solo artists of the '70s, The #1's is a worthy tribute.© John Bush /TiVo

Prince was shooting for the top of the charts with Graffiti Bridge, and he missed. The movie was a disaster, causing the soundtrack to sell very poorly. Despite its poor showing, Graffiti Bridge is not a bad album; in fact, it's often very good. Prince wrote all of the songs, but only performed a little over half the tracks, leaving the rest for The Time, Mavis Staples, and Tevin Campbell. With the exception of The Time's slamming "Release It" and Campbell's "Round and Round," the best songs are the ones Prince performed himself. The George Clinton collaboration "We Can Funk," the psycho-blues of "The Question of U," the sinewy single "Thieves in the Temple," and the pop/rock of "Can't Stop This Feeling I Got," "Tick, Tick, Bang," and "Elephants & Flowers" make Graffiti Bridge a thoroughly enjoyable listen.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Uncharted is the sixth studio album by YouTube sensations the Piano Guys. It features eight new songs in addition to their previously posted mash-ups "Fight Song/Amazing Grace," "The Jungle Book/Sarabande," and the Adele-Mozart track "Hello/Lacrimosa." Their version of Coldplay's "A Sky Full of Stars" had also been posted previously. Of note among the new tracks, the original song "Tour de France" by collective member Jon Schmidt skips the EDM beats and electronic additives of the title track, opting instead for solo piano, and "Okay" was provided by Hot 100 alums Dave Bassett and Andy Grammer. (Uncharted did indeed chart, marking their sixth straight number one on Billboard's New Age Albums chart.)© Marcy Donelson /TiVo

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Usually the grooviest and most hip-hop connected of Ninja Tune's acts, the Herbaliser gradually matured into a supremo live band, led by the duo of Ollie Teeba and Jake Wherry but also encompassing dozens of support slots for brass, woodwinds, and percussionists, plus the usual plugged-in instruments. Still, the Herbaliser isn't a chamber ensemble per se, but instead the type of funky big band prominent in the '70s, the kind that could drop a blaxploitation or disco nugget one minute and get all funky over "Sunny" the next. Same as It Never Was, their first record for !K7, is in similar company to Herbaliser's previous Take London from 2005. It's delivered with the help of an excellent roster of musicians; tenor saxman Chris Bowden, bassist Pino Palladino, and multi-instrumentalist Andrew Ross all make multiple appearances. The sound and productions are definitely up to the Herbaliser standard, but the duo may lose a few listeners when they exercise their funny bones, as they do several times here. Instead of hitting at street level, they spend a lot of time indulging in camp instrumentals like "The Next Spot" and "Amores Bongo" (it's not "Sunny," but it's close). As Herbaliser have done since their debut, they excel at bringing vocal features to life; here it's the Jean Grae guest spot "Street Karma (A Cautionary Tale)," with its eerie blaxploitation shadings. Other highlights come with "Can't Help This Feeling" and "On Your Knees," both featuring vocals by the leather-lunged soul-blues belter Jessica Darling. (Obviously Herbaliser have been at it for years, but it's difficult not to hear her and think of Amy Winehouse or Sharon Jones.) There's no doubting the Herbaliser's ability to deliver exactly what they're attempting, but despite the excellent playing and good vocal features (when they occur), the songwriting and choice of material make this record inferior to the usual Herbaliser standard. © John Bush /TiVo

Michael Jackson had recorded solo prior to the release of Off the Wall in 1979, but this was his breakthrough, the album that established him as an artist of astonishing talent and a bright star in his own right. This was a visionary album, a record that found a way to break disco wide open into a new world where the beat was undeniable, but not the primary focus -- it was part of a colorful tapestry of lush ballads and strings, smooth soul and pop, soft rock, and alluring funk. Its roots hearken back to the Jacksons' huge mid-'70s hit "Dancing Machine," but this is an enormously fresh record, one that remains vibrant and giddily exciting years after its release. This is certainly due to Jackson's emergence as a blindingly gifted vocalist, equally skilled with overwrought ballads as "She's Out of My Life" as driving dancefloor shakers as "Working Day and Night" and "Get on the Floor," where his asides are as gripping as his delivery on the verses. It's also due to the brilliant songwriting, an intoxicating blend of strong melodies, rhythmic hooks, and indelible construction. Most of all, its success is due to the sound constructed by Jackson and producer Quincy Jones, a dazzling array of disco beats, funk guitars, clean mainstream pop, and unashamed (and therefore affecting) schmaltz that is utterly thrilling in its utter joy. This is highly professional, highly crafted music, and its details are evident, but the overall effect is nothing but pure pleasure. Jackson and Jones expanded this approach on the blockbuster Thriller, often with equally stunning results, but they never bettered it.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

By 1969 the Beatles' universe had become terminally messy: tensions between the four members were at an all-time high and the band was coming apart. As this collection's producer Giles Martin (son of the band's producer and confidante George Martin) says in the liner notes, by that time the foursome had become "a bit like a married couple trying to go on dates again." The personal struggles and financial tangles they'd been through as a band had done its damage and the magic was ebbing away. In an effort to get the foursome back to what it felt like to perform live—and perhaps foster a return of their famous camaraderie—Paul McCartney came up with the idea of filming the band playing an entirely new batch of songs. Launched at Twickenham Film Studios, the production soon moved to the band's own home studio in the basement of the Apple Corps headquarters on Savile Row. The group even reconvened on the building's rooftop for an impromptu concert that was filmed and recorded but also stopped after less than an hour by the police due to noise complaints. The resulting album, Get Back, with Glyn Johns as engineer and co-producer, was eventually shelved in favor of Abbey Road (released in September 1969). In 1970, after Lennon had officially left the band, the remaining trio finished the album, now known as Let It Be, switching out takes, dropping several songs and resequencing it with help from Phil Spector who overdubbed his usual grandiose orchestral arrangements onto four tracks. (In 2003 McCartney's dissatisfaction with Spector's additions—particularly on his tune "The Long and Winding Road"—led to a stripped-down version of the album closer to John's original concept, called Let It Be…Naked.) Now the Giles Martin-led Beatles reissue program which began in 2017 with Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Band has finally reached Let It Be and the results are once again rewarding for Beatles fans and newcomers alike. The five volumes are yet another tantalizing glimpse into the band's storied creative process. Although the reception for the album was largely mixed on release—some reviewers savaged it—the songs in retrospect are nothing short of amazing; this is by no means bottom-of-the-barrel Beatles. Tunes like "Get Back," "Let It Be," and "The Long and Winding Road" are as good as anything the band ever wrote or recorded. The first volume here contains the original album in a fresh 96 kHz/24-bit remix that like the other Giles Martin-directed mixes is sharper and brighter than the original but not fundamentally different. The biggest aural change has Ringo Starr's drums brought up and forward in the mix, like in the previous reissues in the series. Perhaps most important about this edition of Let It Be is that after years of being bootlegged, Glyn Johns' 1969 Get Back mix has finally been officially released in improved sound and can now be fairly compared to the 1970 version. Deliberately jumbled, with lots of studio patter left in, and meant to be a window into the band's loose, humorous way of making music (or what they hoped to project as such), it still feels sloppy and unfinished, which may be why The Beatles—who waffled throughout the process and initially wanted that ambiance—rejected it in en masse. Johns' mix opens with "One After 909" (written by Paul and John as teenagers) and then proceeds through looser versions of "Don't Let Me Down" (with fabulous accompaniment from keyboardist Billy Preston) "Dig A Pony," and "I've Got a Feeling" with Lennon adding his usual silly, sardonic asides throughout. George Harrison's "For You Blue" opens with the sound of ice cubes swirling in a drink. McCartney's much maligned "Teddy Boy," which didn't make the final cut of Let It Be but became part of McCartney's first solo album, is heard here with Lennon's famous mocking "Do-Si-Do" background comment left intact. Volume two features an exuberant rave up of "Maggie Mae" and "Fancy My Chances with You"—a tune John and Paul wrote together in 1958. The overall vibe in these sessions is not nearly as hostile as history would have it as evidenced by a take of "Let It Be" mashed up with "Please Please Me." A jammy take of "One After 909" is good fun, take 19 of "Get Back" features Paul laughing in rhythm with the tune, and George's instrumental jam up of "Wake Up Little Susie" which transitions into his song, "I Me Mine" with a blues break in the middle is a wonderful reminder of his essential but often forgotten part of the group. Early versions of tunes that were soon to appear on Abbey Road or the member's subsequent solo albums are featured on the third volume. A rehearsal shows George's "All Things Must Pass," the title track of his debut solo album, beginning to take shape. A slow take of "She Came in Through the Bathroom Window," that mixes music with studio patter shows them working through an arrangement. Ringo, who is rarely heard, appears in an early piano-and-voice version of "Octopus's Garden" where teacups can be heard clanking in their saucers. In a jam of "Oh! Darling" Paul speaks a verse before he and Lennon go back to raggedly harmonizing, while Preston adds his spot-on, amazingly instinctual keyboard flourishes. In the same song, John announces that Yoko's divorce has gone through. Preston sings a version of "Without a Song," a tune he'd later release on his 1971 album I Wrote a Simple Song. The passionate unreleased 1970 Glyn Johns mix of "Across the Universe" on volume five is a reminder of the utterly unique pop universe that The Beatles had created. That's further confirmed in the same collection by a sparkling new mix of the single version of "Let It Be." Yet another entry—the last?—in Giles Martin's illuminating efforts to expand on the legacy, the new Let It Be provides deeper insight into the essential question around the Fab Four: How the hell did they do it? © Robert Baird/Qobuz

**Audio for this release has been delivered to us in the highest available resolutions. Discs 1, 2, and 7 are not available in 24-bit Hi-Res but can be be downloaded in CD quality.**

Falling somewhere between the pop sensibilities of Ten Summoner's Tales and the searching ambition of The Soul Cages, Mercury Falling is one of Sting's tighter records, even if it fails to compel as much as his previous solo albums. Though he doesn't flaunt his jazz aspirations as he did in the mid-'80s, Mercury Falling feels more serious than The Dream of the Blue Turtles, primarily because of its reserved, high-class production and execution. Building from surprisingly simple, memorable melodies, Sting creates multi-layered, vaguely soul-influenced arrangements that carry all of the hallmarks of someone who has studied music, not lived it. Of course, there are many pleasures in the record -- for all of his pretensions, Sting remains an engaging melodicist, as well as a clever lyricist. There just happens to be a distinct lack of energy, stemming from the suffocating layers of synthesizers. Mercury Falling is a record of modest pleasures; it's just not an infectious, compulsive listen. © Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Unlike many bands that release notable debut albums and then take years to deliver a follow-up, the Strokes got Room on Fire out as quickly as possible after their lengthy tour for Is This It. Good thing, too; the two years between their debut and this album were long enough for the expectations for -- and the backlash against -- a new Strokes album to reach formidable proportions. And the Strokes sound like they have a lot to prove on Room on Fire, not to their naysayers, but to themselves. On the surface, the album isn't drastically different than Is This It, but it's not predictable. Instead of delivering an album's worth of "Last Nite"s, "Someday"s, and "NYC Cop"s, Room on Fire expands on their debut's off-kilter and complex tracks, like "Is This It?" and "Hard to Explain." The album's first single, "12:51," signals the Strokes' intent: its whistling, synth-like guitars and handclaps are undeniably catchy, but at first, the song seems to be searching for a structure. Eventually, though, it becomes sneakily addictive -- it's a stealth pop song. Likewise, the album opens with "What Ever Happened?," on which Julian Casablancas snarls "I wanna be forgotten/And I don't wanna be reminded" -- not exactly the likeliest start to what should be a triumphant second album from one of the most celebrated rock bands of the 2000s. In many ways, Room on Fire is the Strokes' bid to be taken seriously, which may be why they began this album with producer Nigel Godrich before returning to Is This It producer Gordon Raphael. To his credit, Raphael gives the album its own sound: it's brighter and fuller than Is This It's low-rent production. Room on Fire also has a distinct attitude. Is This It sounded effortless, but it's evident that a great deal of effort was put into Room on Fire. Yet the album's most crafted moments are its most exciting: "Automatic Stop," a playful, poignant look back at a love triangle, lopes along to a reggae beat (and features the witty lyrics "So many fish there in the sea/I wanted her/He wanted me"). "Under Control," an awkwardly gorgeous homage to '60s soul, is possibly the best Strokes song yet. Several songs recapture some of Is This It's exuberance; not surprisingly, they're the ones that the band wrote while on tour. "You Talk Way Too Much" revs on one of their most Velvets-y riffs; "Meet Me in the Bathroom"'s Motown-like bassline and shimmery guitars add some style to its underlying sleaze. However, the Strokes are a different band than when they recorded Is This It, and Room on Fire's best songs acknowledge that. There's a weariness lingering around Room on Fire like stale smoke, especially on "The End Has No End," a loop of a song about a nagging breakup that repeats its seemingly nonsensical title in a surprisingly affecting way. "Reptilia," meanwhile, sounds like a long night of partying turned sour. "Please don't slow me down if I'm going too fast," Casablancas wails (most of Room on Fire's distortion comes from his vocals, which give the impression that he's gargled with turpentine and brushed his teeth with steel wool for the past two years). The motif of moving too fast and not minding it winds through Room on Fire, reflecting its svelte 33-minute running time as well as the swiftness of the Strokes' career. This compressed feel, the precision of the band's playing and arrangements, and the way every song comes to an abrupt stop sometimes make the album sound too closed-off. Room on Fire's best moments fight against this tendency and suggest that the Strokes are continuing to grow, perhaps beyond what their listeners want from them. Some may gripe that it's never as good as the first time, but Room on Fire shows that even after all that happened to the Strokes, they can still surprise.© Heather Phares /TiVo

For their third album, R.E.M. made a conscious effort to break from the traditions Murmur and Reckoning established, electing to record in England with legendary folk-rock producer Joe Boyd. For a variety of reasons, the sessions were difficult, and that tension is apparent throughout Fables of the Reconstruction. A dark, moody rumination on American folk -- not only the music, but its myths -- Fables is creepy, rustic psychedelic folk, filled with eerie sonic textures. Some light breaks through occasionally, such as the ridiculous collegiate blue-eyed soul of "Can't Get There From Here," but the group's trademark ringing guitars and cryptic lyrics have grown sinister, giving even sing-alongs like "Driver 8" an ominous edge. Fables is more inconsistent than its two predecessors, but the group does demonstrate considerable musical growth, particularly in how perfectly it evokes the strange rural legends of the South. And many of the songs on the record -- including "Feeling Gravitys Pull," "Maps and Legends," "Green Grow the Rushes," "Auctioneer (Another Engine)," and the previously mentioned pair -- rank among the group's best.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo