Collecting up the seven albums recorded for the Atlantic label between October 1973 and December 1978 by the double bassist and composer Charles Mingus, as well as an entire album of previously unreleased alternative pieces, this magnificent box set captures the legendary jazz musician’s last major creative period before Charcot's disease would take his life prematurely in January 1979, at the age of just 56. While some of the records in this set have been enshrined in Mingus' discography’s pantheon since their release, others, for years, have been the victims of ignorance and carried less favourable reputations. Everyone respects the twin albums Changes One and Changes Two, recorded by the double bassist in 1974 at the head of a brand new quintet, during the same exact session. Propelled by the drums of the faithful Dannie Richmond, and featuring two newcomers to his galaxy, saxophonist George Coleman and pianist Don Pullen, these are traditionally recognised as his ultimate masterpieces. One of the great virtues of this compilation is that it allows us to appreciate the entire period with the benefit of hindsight, and appreciate the rest of his oeuvre. A few tracks deserve to be singled out: the freshness and bluesy charisma of Three or Four Shades of Blues, recorded by Mingus in 1977 at the head of an expanded band, features the talents of three young guitarists destined for greatness: Larry Coryell, Philip Catherine and John Scofield. The baroque luxuriance of the two long orchestral suites on the album Cumbia & Jazz Fusion, conveys subliminal dialogue between Duke Ellington and Nino Rota in a dreamy Latin context. The musician's last recording, the very moving Me Myself An Eye written and whilst confined to a wheelchair and obliged to accept the dual role of composer and supervisor of the session which, despite the conditions, vibrates throughout with an inextinguishable power of life. © Stéphane Ollivier/Qobuz

After performing his second-to-last selection, "White Light/White Heat," a tune by Lou Reed, the songwriter who most influenced Ziggy Stardust, David Bowie's enduring and indelible persona, Bowie dropped this little nugget on his fans (and bandmates): "Not only is it the last show of the tour, but it's the last show that we'll ever do. Thank you." He then went into a magnificent version of "Rock & Roll Suicide," a song that gives a glimpse of where Bowie could have gone, not to suicide, but to the style of rock & roll that a long-term band can provide. Had Bowie kept the Spiders from Mars together, unique flashes like the version of "Let's Spend the Night Together" or the striking "All the Young Dudes" would have continued, a tight little rock & roll band providing a balance that dissipated when the artist branched out on his own. The other unnerving thing about this double-LP soundtrack of a concert taped in 1973 and finally released in 1982 is that there are bootlegs which have more to offer sonically. The thin recording is shameful: don't expect Pink Floyd's Delicate Sound of Thunder or even the Rolling Stones' wonderfully sludgy "Get Your Ya Ya's Out." The remix of this only official live album from the Ziggy Stardust shows is dreadful. Ziggy Stardust: The Motion Picture doesn't have the electric excitement of the Live in Santa Monica '72 boot, and that's the fault of the remix by Mike Moran, Bruce Tergeson, Tony Visconti, and Bowie. Another bootleg, David Bowie with the Spiders from Mars, London, July 3, 1973, is the exact same Ziggy performance, but it comes across better, much better. According to Pimm Jal de la Parra's book David Bowie: The Concert Tapes, the bootleg was issued from the ABC TV 1974 broadcast. The bootleg also has "Jean Genie and "Love Me Do," which feature Jeff Beck on guitar, Beck's performances being absent from the official RCA soundtrack release. The shame of it all is that this double disc was released after David Live and Stage, and while the upside is it makes for a rare, three double-live sets from one performer, the downside is that the best of those three albums has the worst mix on official record. Also, had RCA released the October 1, 1972 Boston Music Hall show -- which was brilliant, despite Bowie having a cold that night -- or this July 3, 1973 London Hammersmith Odeon program back in the day, it could have had an enormous effect on Bowie's career. At that point in time, the fans wanted more Ziggy, and the timing of this release only shows how important it is to get the material out while it's hot. Just ask Peter Frampton, Bob Seger, and the J. Geils Band, who solidified their audiences with double-live sets at crucial points in their careers. Nonetheless, everything here is essential David Bowie; it is a great performance, and you definitely need it for your Bowie collection. The only thing better would be Lou Reed himself finally releasing the September 1973 first gig of his Rock 'n' Roll Animal Band, which was, as they say, the real thing.© Joe Viglione /TiVo

It's been nearly two decades since MGMT made a lasting mark on the alt-pop landscape with "Time to Pretend" and "Kids"—songs that are still used as short-hand to define an era, most recently in the movie Saltburn. And 2023’s Just Like Heaven festival exploded in joy when the band performed their album Oracular Spectacular. But the problem with creating such memorable songs so early in your career is it doesn’t just define the time, it comes to define you; MGMT has struggled to escape the mid-aughts electroclash hangover, at least in larger public view. In reality, though, the band fronted by co-founders Andrew VanWyngarden and Ben Goldwasser has released several albums of entertaining music with a particular psychedelic bent. Their fifth, Loss of Life, seems to be a keen student of Pink Floyd and Revolver. "Bubblegum Dog" combines elements of both, along with Jeff Lynne-esque chamber pomp, as VanWyngarden appears to lament being seen as a pop-radio star: "The shame of vitriol/ Aimed at the bubblegum dog/ It's finally catching up with me/ And I hate this bubblegum world/ But hate is a very strong word." The closing title track is sweet and spacey, with a nostalgic planetarium-laser show vibe, while opener "Loss of Life Pt. 2" presents the album as a curio—as an old-school BBC programme announcer voice marvels at the wonders of the universe ("Why a cow has horns … Why fishes have scales"). The vocals of twinkly "Phradie's Song" sound transmitted from outer space. Set to a slo-mo rhythm, "Nothing Changes" boasts a vibrant horn section. Perhaps the most Syd Barrett-leaning track, "I Wish I Was Joking" is a dreamy ballad that suggests having seen a lot through the lens of fame—and felt a few regrets: "Here's the thing about drugs/ They sink your mind and steal your friends ... You get in the car/ but don't go, no." There are moments of folk both twee ("Nothing to Declare") and comparatively downbeat ("People in the Streets"), but also of Flaming Lips-akin joyousness on "Mother Nature," an enveloping cut of grandiose neo-psychedelia that tells the story of "one hero attempting to get the other hero to come on the journey," the band has said. (Note that frequent MGMT and Lips producer Dave Fridmann is on hand again here, along with Chairlift’s Patrick Wimberly.) "Unwrap that tourniquet 'round the sun/ Turn those subtle reds into neon/ You'll see the difference when it's done/ But I undеrstand your hesitation," the lyrics go. And for something completely different, MGMT is joined by Christine and the Queens—coming on like Jennifer Warnes—for "Dancing in Babylon," a slightly plastic, slightly sappy, but glorious duet ballad that sounds beamed in straight from Casey Kasem’s American Top 40 circa 1982. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

One of the great new wave/early MTV records, She's So Unusual is a giddy mix of self-confidence, effervescent popcraft, unabashed sentimentality, subversiveness, and clever humor. In short, it's a multifaceted portrait of a multifaceted talent, an artist that's far more clever than her thin, deliberately girly voice would indicate. Then again, Lauper's voice suits her musical persona, since its chirpiness adds depth, or reconfigures the songs, whether it's the call to arms of "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" or the tearjerking "Time After Time." Lauper is at her very best on the first side, all of which were singles or received airplay, and this collection of songs -- "Money Changes Everything," "Girls," "When You Were Mine," "Time," "She Bop," "All Through the Night" -- is astonishing in its consistency, so strong that it makes the remaining tracks -- all enjoyable, but rather pedestrian -- charming by their association with songs so brilliantly alive. If Lauper couldn't maintain this level of consistency, it's because this captured her persona better than anyone could imagine -- when a debut captures a personality so well, let alone a personality so tied to its time, the successive work can't help but pale in comparison. Still, when it's captured as brightly and brilliantly as it is here, it does result in a debut that retains its potency, long after its production seems a little dated.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

A stunning self-reinvention by a band that many had given up for dead, 90125 is the album that introduced a whole new generation of listeners to Yes. Begun as Cinema, a new band by Chris Squire and Alan White, the project grew to include the slick production of Trevor Horn, the new blood (and distinctly '80s guitar sound) of Trevor Rabin, and eventually the trademark vocals of returning founder Jon Anderson. His late entry insured that Rabin and Horn had a heavy influence on the sound. The album also marked the return of prodigal keyboardist Tony Kaye, whose crisp synth work on "Changes" marked the band's definitive break with its art rock roots. "Owner of a Lonely Heart" was a huge crossover hit, and its orchestral break has been relentlessly sampled by rappers ever since. The vocal harmonies of "Leave It" and the beautifully sprawling "Hearts" are additional high points, but there's nary a duff track on the album.© Paul Collins /TiVo

After the freakish hard rock of The Man Who Sold the World, David Bowie returned to singer/songwriter territory on Hunky Dory. Not only did the album boast more folky songs ("Song for Bob Dylan," "The Bewlay Brothers"), but he again flirted with Anthony Newley-esque dancehall music ("Kooks," "Fill Your Heart"), seemingly leaving heavy metal behind. As a result, Hunky Dory is a kaleidoscopic array of pop styles, tied together only by Bowie's sense of vision: a sweeping, cinematic mélange of high and low art, ambiguous sexuality, kitsch, and class. Mick Ronson's guitar is pushed to the back, leaving Rick Wakeman's cabaret piano to dominate the sound of the album. The subdued support accentuates the depth of Bowie's material, whether it's the revamped Tin Pan Alley of "Changes," the Neil Young homage "Quicksand," the soaring "Life on Mars?," the rolling, vaguely homosexual anthem "Oh! You Pretty Things," or the dark acoustic rocker "Andy Warhol." On the surface, such a wide range of styles and sounds would make an album incoherent, but Bowie's improved songwriting and determined sense of style instead made Hunky Dory a touchstone for reinterpreting pop's traditions into fresh, postmodern pop music.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

A year and a half after his supersized ambient album Music for Animals (ten tracks, each lasting around twenty minutes), Nils Frahm has returned to solo piano music with this series of six pieces written at the height of summer 2022. LEITER, the label founded by the German pianist and his manager Felix Grimm, described it as “far from his Funkhaus studio in Berlin.” This is a mark of authenticity for a record on which we can hear traces of the intimate production style that made a success out of his album Felt (2012), with its ambient soundscape and piano mechanics. On Day, it’s a nonchalant Nils Frahm that shows up for “You Name It,” like a teenager who can’t seem to get out of bed. He stays firmly under the covers for “Tuesdays,” while the autumn is more prevalent than the summer on the single “Butter Nuts.” He is more inspired on “Hands On,” which sounds like the faraway echoes of Neil Young’s piano playing, and we are finally reunited with Nils Frahm’s magic, his musical balancing act that is so very intoxicating, on “Towards Zero,” with its hauntingly baroque motif that leaves us in suspense. © Smaël Bouaici/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.**

The history of rock is full of bands that go unnoticed, along with their all-too neglected albums… Love and their record Forever Changes are at the front of the peloton in that category. Released in November 1967, this third studio album by the Californian quintet rivals some of the greatest records by The Beatles, The Rolling Stones or The Kinks because it offers a unique alternative. The ingenious and elusive Arthur Lee mixed together every genre imaginable on the album, from pop, jazz, folk and flamenco to psychedelic rock, psychedelia and classical music. With a touch of baroque, we find rather daring and audacious brass and string arrangements by David Angel. Carried by Lee's whirling voice and Bryan MacLean's clear guitars, Love created a record that is melancholic at some points, cheerful at others, but always very profound. The eclectic sound stems from its authors; Lee veers towards more bluesy rock melodies while MacLean is open to plural sonorities, whether they are classical or world music... The Summer of Love dismantled its tent for a few months and Forever Changes, an album that meanders between baroque pop and psychedelic folk, became the soundtrack of the disillusionment of America and its citizens. They were still dreamers, just perhaps aware of the fact that years to come wouldn’t be quite so multicoloured. In short, this album fuses the sublime with the sinister, and the years slide past this masterpiece without ever eroding its beauty. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

Like its creator, Kamasi Washington's triple album debut, The Epic, is imposing, multi-faceted and aspiring to change music forever. A close collaborator with fellow innovative Angelenos Stephen Bruner (Thundercat), Steven Ellison (Flying Lotus) and Kendrick Lamar, Washington's evolved vision mixes bebop, soul jazz, old school organ trio R&B, space jazz and fusion à la Miles Davis. At the center of this prismatic, conscious-expanding maelstrom is Washington's bodacious horn whose tone and approach can by turns be compared to the playing of Azar Lawrence, Pharoah Sanders and especially John Coltrane. The musical forces assembled to energize Washington's intuitive, spiritual meld are truly Herculean. Supported by Thundercat, keyboardists Cameron Graves and Brandon Coleman, trombones, trumpets and more, Washington, who also served as producer, worked a string section, a 20-voice choir and solo vocalist Patrice Quinn into his futuristic arrangements. Despite overdubbing by the project's six engineers, the sonic results are sleek and uncluttered. The diverse flavors here vary with each tune. Introduced by Coleman's organ, "Final Thought" mixes funk and post-bop with Washington's nimble honking. The swing rhythms and wordless vocal choir of "The Next Step" show the results of his time with innovative big band leader Gerald Wilson. Unadulterated fun is the object of the 70's funk groove, "Re Run Home." For those who doubt his connection to music history there's the one-two punch of the standard "Cherokee" and his soaring re-imagining of a movement of Claude Debussy's "Clair de Lune." While one can quibble that perhaps three discs is too much of a good thing, it's clear from the assured first notes of the aptly-titled opener "Change of the Guard" that Washington is a musical mystic who's fused his wisdoms and exposures into a debut that's not a product of the insular jazz bubble, nor an au courant hip hop-jazz mashup, but three hours that somehow sound old and new in the same moment—a virtuosic musical statement, one constantly verging on genius. © Robert Baird/Qobuz

After the freakish hard rock of The Man Who Sold the World, David Bowie returned to singer/songwriter territory on Hunky Dory. Not only did the album boast more folky songs ("Song for Bob Dylan," "The Bewlay Brothers"), but he again flirted with Anthony Newley-esque dancehall music ("Kooks," "Fill Your Heart"), seemingly leaving heavy metal behind. As a result, Hunky Dory is a kaleidoscopic array of pop styles, tied together only by Bowie's sense of vision: a sweeping, cinematic mélange of high and low art, ambiguous sexuality, kitsch, and class. Mick Ronson's guitar is pushed to the back, leaving Rick Wakeman's cabaret piano to dominate the sound of the album. The subdued support accentuates the depth of Bowie's material, whether it's the revamped Tin Pan Alley of "Changes," the Neil Young homage "Quicksand," the soaring "Life on Mars?," the rolling, vaguely homosexual anthem "Oh! You Pretty Things," or the dark acoustic rocker "Andy Warhol." On the surface, such a wide range of styles and sounds would make an album incoherent, but Bowie's improved songwriting and determined sense of style instead made Hunky Dory a touchstone for reinterpreting pop's traditions into fresh, postmodern pop music.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

This archival mother lode gathers the four complete sets of music Jimi Hendrix and his then-new Band of Gypsys played at the Fillmore East in New York on December 31, 1969 and January 1, 1970. So...there's some guitar. Lots and lots of guitar, some of it initially released on the Band of Gypsys album but presented here in clearer fidelity. There are mind expanding, status-quo-smashing guitar ad-libs, machine-gun precise rhythm guitar riffs, and passages that start out in a mood of hazy reflection, only to swell into fits of heavy, snarling agitation. Where there's guitar there are stoptime guitar breaks, the fireworks-erupting moments rockers have used since the Chuck Berry days to kickstart the soloing. Hendrix was a master of these. To encounter him at peak, cue up the four (!) versions of "Them Changes," (the Buddy Miles tune that's curiously identified here as simply "Changes"). Zoom right to the end of verses, usually around the 2:00 mark. The set 1 break finds him dancing, with balletic precision, in the upper register. For set 2, he hangs expressively on a single note. Set 3 finds Hendrix in high-drama mode, pitchbending like a manic bluesman. Just before the break in set 4, he deviates from the riff in a way that sounds, at first, like a mistake; when the band stops, what follows is two measures of stone-cold diabolical genius. Studying the breaks is, of course, only one way to geek out on Hendrix. You can make like the School of Rock kids do and analyze the beginnings, endings and tempos of multiple versions of "Power Of Soul," "Machine Gun" and others. Of course, you can also just listen in chronological order, and marvel at this incendiary trio's ability to vary the tones and shades and energies of the music during what was clearly an intense, endurance-test run of shows. © Tom Moon / Qobuz

Even as a serious-minded singer/songwriter, Cat Stevens never stopped being a pop singer at heart, and with Teaser and the Firecat he reconciled his philosophical interests with his pop instincts. Basically, Teaser's songs came in two modes: gentle ballads that usually found Stevens and second guitarist Alun Davies playing delicate lines over sensitive love lyrics, and up-tempo numbers on which the guitarists strummed away and thundering drums played in stop-start rhythms. There were also more exotic styles, such as the Greek-styled "Rubylove," with its twin bouzoukis and a verse sung in Greek, and "Tuesday's Dead," with its Caribbean feel. Stevens seemed to have worked out some of his big questions, to the point of wanting to proselytize on songs like "Changes IV" and "Peace Train," both stirring tunes in which he urged social and spiritual improvement. Meanwhile, his love songs had become simpler and more plaintive. And while there had always been a charming, childlike quality to some of his lyrics, there were songs here that worked as nursery rhymes, and these were among the album's most memorable tracks and its biggest hits: "Moonshadow" and "Morning Has Broken," the latter adapted from a hymn with words by English author Eleanor Farjeon. The overall result was an album that was musically more interesting than ever, but lyrically dumbed-down. Stevens continued to look for satisfaction in romance, despite its disappointment, but he found more fulfillment in a still-unspecified religious pursuit that he was ready to tout to others. And they were at least nominally ready to listen: the album produced three hit singles and just missed topping the charts. Tea for the Tillerman may have been the more impressive effort, but Teaser and the Firecat was the Cat Stevens album that gave more surface pleasures to more people, which in pop music is the name of the game. © William Ruhlmann /TiVo

David Bowie's first official compilation album, released in the wake of Station to Station and sharing that album's odd typography, Changesonebowie is a handy one-stop roundup of the last four years of hits, plus "Space Oddity" -- an American smash in 1973, but unavailable on a U.K. single since its first appearance in 1969. It soared to the top of the British chart, dragging Changesone with it -- the album eventually peaked at number two. The album's main charm for confirmed fans was the inclusion of "John, I'm Only Dancing." Never previously included on LP, the song was also making its American debut here, with the excitement soaring even higher when it was discovered that the "wrong" version had been included -- the regular 1972 U.K. single version was omitted in inadvertent favor of a 1973 re-recording. The error was corrected for subsequent pressings of the album. An unadventurous-looking track listing should not deter the keen fan. As with so many pre-CD age Bowie compilations, it's very easy to overlook Changesonebowie in favor of the more-bang-for-your-buck career-spanning collections that have since emerged. It remains, however, a charming time capsule, a reminder of the days when Bowie was as much a chart-topping pop star as an iconic idol.© Dave Thompson /TiVo

The times had certainly changed since Déjà Vu's release in 1970. Nevertheless, there was a hunger in audiences for a return to the harmony-soaked idealism with which the trio had been catapulted to popularity, and CSN consequently reached number two on the charts, behind Fleetwood Mac's megasuccessful Rumours. The music here is very good, though probably not up to the hard-to-match level of Crosby, Stills & Nash or Déjà Vu. Still, the songs showed a great deal of lyrical maturity and compositional complexity compared to those earlier albums (from a far more innocent time). "Just a Song Before I Go" was the latest of Graham Nash's radio-friendly acoustic numbers, and a Top Ten single. "See the Changes" and "Dark Star" ranked with the best of Stephen Stills' work, while David Crosby contributed three classics from his distinctive oeuvre: "Shadow Captain," "Anything at All," and the beautiful "In My Dreams." Nash's multi-part "Cathedral," a recollection of an acid trip taken in Winchester Cathedral on his 32nd birthday, became a staple of the group's live repertoire. CSN was the trio's last fully realized album, and also the last recording on which the three principals handled all the vocal parts without the sweetening of additional voices. It has held up remarkably well, both as a memento of its time and as a thoroughly enjoyable musical work.© Jim Newsom /TiVo

Goodbye sadness, hello sensuality – it’s a brand-new Balthazar! The Belgian band is going off the beaten track and leaving their last three lethargic albums behind them. The new album begins with the thick, groovy bass-line powered by percussion and choirs in the leading single Fever and follows on with the stripped-down synth in Changes, the beat in Grapefruit, the wavering strings in Roller Coaster and the sax solo in Wrong Faces. Even Jinte Deprez’s tone has changed, his voice is weightier. During recording, producer Jasper Maekelberg shaped this ensemble of eleven tracks equipped with a lavish and well-polished orchestration into a well-arranged mix of pop with hints of bossa nova and jazz. The result is an album somewhere between the dandyism of Baxter Dury, the summery funk of Parcels and tropical vibes of Claire Laffut. An awesome come-back. © Charlotte Saintoin/Qobuz