From the outset, Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazelwood were a match made in heaven. Their pop hit These Boots Are Made For Walkin’ (1966) was so huge that it occasionally overshadows their other incredible creations, such as Jackson, Sand, Summer Wine and You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin’ (songs which would later feature on Nancy & Lee, the incredible album that brought together the brilliant Oklahoma producer and Frank Sinatra’s daughter). It was a winning combination: his baritone voice that mixed rock, country, jazz, pop and easy listening, and her sexy, wide-ranging vocals, full of charisma. However, the duo’s momentum was cut short when Hazelwood suddenly moved to Sweden without explanation… When the pair finally returned to the studio in 1972, the world had moved on; nobody was expecting anything from them anymore. The charts were now obsessed with electronic sounds, making Lee Hazelwood’s baroque-esque symphonies seem out of touch, even antiquated. Despite this, Nancy & Lee Again (finally reissued and remastered by the label Light in the Attic) remains a masterpiece that desperately deserves to be (re)discovered. It’s got all the duo’s signature sounds; they’re just more luxurious, more spectacular and more dramatic. This reissue is proof that more really is more! From the opening track Arkansas Coal, Hazlewood creates a stunning cinematographic setting with meticulous and fascinating arrangements. Even the lyrics display real ambition, tackling the suffering of single mothers (the beautiful cover of Dolly Parton’s masterpiece, Down From Dover), and the uneasiness felt by veterans of the Vietnam War, which was still raging at the time of the initial release (Congratulations). With its magnificent orchestral arrangements featuring Larry Muhoberac (a member of Elvis Presley’s band TCB, who also worked with Barbra Streisand, Neil Diamond and Lalo Schifrin) and Clark Gassman (who worked with Hazlewood on the 1970 album Cowboy in Sweden), Nancy & Lee Again will age like fine wine. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

The Diamond Collection is a nine-track compilation from rapper Post Malone. The record features all eight of his diamond-certified singles, from his very first, "White Iverson," through "Congratulations," "Rockstar," and pop smashes "Sunflower" and "Circles." It also features his 2023 single "Chemical" from that year's Austin.© Liam Martin /TiVo

What if some of the late 20th century's most recognizable voices came together for a freewheeling, no-egos goof? The debut by the Traveling Wilburys—George Harrison, Roy Orbison, Bob Dylan, Tom Petty and ELO's Jeff Lynne—is much more than novelty. Although the thematic glue is a love of 1950s rock 'n' roll and skiffle, layered with angelic harmonies and Jim Horn's bruising sax, each artist brings his distinct signature. The best songs (and hits) began with Harrison: perfect single "Handle With Care" and slice of sunshine that is "End of the Line." The Orbison-led "Not Alone Any More" is a pleasant lope that showcases his heartbreaking operatics. Petty's loose-limbed "Last Night" sounds like an outtake from his Full Moon Fever. Dylan's tracks, including the Springsteen-parodying "Tweeter and the Monkey Man" and rave-up "Dirty World," growl with an arched eyebrow. Also unmistakable is Lynne's more-is-more production, especially on Harrison's songs, including the spritely "Heading for the Light," and Petty's majestic-spooky "Margarita." Captured not long before Orbison's 1988 death, this album feels like a joyous gift. © Qobuz

Establishing identity through the lens of cultural appropriation can be tricky business. On Post Malone's studio debut Stoney, the Dallas-raised musician with gold grills and braids does his best to sing-rap his way through an album's worth of woozy R&B-inflected hip-hop. As a fan of rap and its associated culture, Post delivers with moderate respect, careful not to toe the precarious line over which others like Iggy Azalea and Riff Raff have stumbled. Yet, there still seems to be something missing in the calculated white-guy-does-hip-hop formula. Although he plays guitar and is influenced by Tim McGraw as much as Kanye West, Stoney is mostly devoid of that country twang, save for some outlaw grit on "Broken Whiskey Glass" and faint strumming on "Go Flex" (bonus track "Leave" actually captures his true cross-genre nature better than anything here). Mostly, that part of his background only comes through when he chooses to sing. Those tracks -- notably "No Option" and "I Fall Apart" -- work best, featuring strong vocals that quiver when he pushes it to the limit. Guest vocalists and producers like Kehlani ("Feel"), River Tiber ("Cold"), Pharrell Williams ("Up There"), and Quavo and Metro Boomin ("Congratulations") bolster Stoney with both atmosphere and credibility, while tourmate Justin Bieber increases the star power on the sweet "Cha-Cha"/"Hotline Bling"-esque "Deja Vu." Even though most of the songs bleed indistinguishably into one another, the aptly titled album provides an appropriate soundtrack for a certain type of recreational rest and relaxation (even occasionally threatening to sedate the listener). It's competent and listenable, but many others have tread this same path already. Post Malone has a way to go before standing out with his own unique voice, but there are signs on Stoney that it could happen. © Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo

As a way to illustrate the sincerity implied in its title, The Divine Feminine begins and ends with the voices of women. Ariana Grande introduces Mac Miller's first Warner Bros. release, and in its conclusion, Miller's grandmother details with fondness the history of her relationship with her husband. In between the two tracks, to the point of compulsion, Miller frequently notes his aptitude in the bedroom and his insatiable appetite therein, or wherever else the mood strikes. Crass as it frequently is, the bulk of the album nonetheless has more to do with loving relationships than most releases from the manchild R&B classes of 2011-2016. Miller even sings a higher percentage of his words in his limited and sincere drawl, rhapsodizing "You just don't know how beautiful you are" on "My Favorite Part," a clean duet with new flame Grande that sounds like it could be an Anthony Hamilton cover. Miller's producers are in accordance with all the lovestruck sentiments. They outfit the songs with twirling strings, punching horns, and lively pianos, the last of which is provided by Robert Glasper on the woozy, Kendrick Lamar-assisted "God Is Fair, Sexy, Nasty." In the dazed but laser-focused ballad "Skin," there's a recurring impassioned saxophone line, and at one point it punctuates Miller's purr of "I open up your legs and go straight for your heart." The album's first half is highlighted by another Anderson Paak collaboration, "Dang!," a sharp hybrid of horn-flecked funk and spangly house. It's surpassed during the second half by the combination of "Soulmate," a sticky/slippery Dâm-Funk production, and "We," a beatific mellow groove elevated by the harmonious voices of CeeLo Green and Thundercat. At all times, Miller and his associates are on the same page. Another aspect that makes this the rapper's most fulfilling album is that all the lines about being saved and in awe seem to be expressed with as much ease as the anatomical references, like they're plain facts, not wrenching confessions.© Andy Kellman /TiVo

Bridges can be underrated, if not outright ignored or forgotten, in modern pop music. But Australian artist Alex Lahey approaches them as marvels of engineering, there to not only buttress a song but take it from one place to the next along the most scenic, sonically glorious route possible. She builds one up via soft-loud dynamics on "Congratulations," a slice of aughts-era indie rock joy about hating that you still care about an ex who’s moved on: "There's no mistaking/ That I'm shaken/ By your lightning/ Change of heart/ And my obsessing/ Means regressing." The bridge is pretty and bittersweet—like a pivotal movie scene that shows the main character has had a change of heart—on "The Sky Is Melting." The folky "Permanent" erupts into a grand, strings-propelled emo bridge reminiscent of Electric Owls, and Lahey’s Aussie accent comes through strong on lines like "I am at home on my own/ Wishing that I wasn't alone/ But I've been here before/ Playing the same three fucking chords"— then mocks herself with some gingerly strumming. There is no denying the similarities between Lahey and fellow Aussie Courtney Barnett on that track as well as the conversational speak-sung verses and jagged guitar honk of the excellent "Good Time," but on the latter Lahey gleefully makes the decision to run toward the kind of big, layered pop-radio chorus Barnett typically resists. Indeed,  Lahey knows her way around a big power-pop chorus, like on the giddy "You’ll Never Get Your Money Back" (written with Jenny Owen Youngs and Jess Abbott of Now, Now, it sound like Lahey is having the time of her life) and the insistent, Sahara Hot Nights-esque pogo-punk of "On the Way Down." (Credit due, too, to producer Jacknife Lee, known for glossy work with U2, the Killers and Snow Patrol.) "Shit Talkin'" is both a soap bubble of Cheap Trick-worthy ’70s power pop and a misanthrope’s lament ("You know, the thing about seeing people/ Is deciding what you want them to see/ Will they wish that I could stay forever/ Or will they want me to leave … I bet you when they're on their own/ They're shit talkin' all the way home"). "They Wouldn't Let Me In" packs in a slinky groove, hyperactive beat and careening guitar that takes a sharp New Wave turn, creating a Paramore song that might be better than anything on Paramore’s last record. Gentle and tentative, closer "The Answer Is Always Yes" plays like it’s on the brink before the ground gives way and the song opens in a big, chaotic, beautiful bride of revelation: "I don’t want it all to be the way before it changed." © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

It's often unfair to compare the Rolling Stones to the Beatles but in the case of the group's mono mixes, it's instructive. Until the 2009 release of the box set The Beatles in Mono, all of the Fab Four's mono mixes were out of print. That's not the case with the Rolling Stones. Most of their '60s albums -- released on Decca in the U.K., London in the U.S. -- found mono mixes sneaking onto either the finished sequencing or various singles compilations, so the 2016 box The Rolling Stones in Mono only contains 56 heretofore unavailable mono mixes among its 186 tracks. To complicate things further, the box -- which runs 15 discs in its CD version, 16 LPs in its vinyl incarnation -- sometimes contains both the British and American releases of a particular title (Out of Our Heads and Aftermath), while others are available in only one iteration (Between the Buttons is only present in the U.K. version). All this is for the sake of expedience: this is the easiest way to get all the mono mixes onto the box with a minimal amount of repetition. To that end, there's a bonus disc called Stray Cats -- with artwork that plays off the censored plain white cover art for the initial pressing of Beggars Banquet -- collecting the singles that never showed up on an official album, or at least any of the albums that made the box. Along with the odd decision to have the CD sleeves be slightly larger than a mini-LP replica (they're as big as a jewel box, so they're larger than a shrunk vinyl sleeve, a size that's rarely seen in other releases), this is the only quibble on what is otherwise an excellent set. The sound -- remastered again after the 2002 overhaul for hybrid SACDs -- is bold and colorful, with the earliest albums carrying a wallop and the latter records feeling like they're fighting to be heard in two separate channels and all the better for it. If nothing here provides a revelation -- none of the mixes are radically different, the way that some Beatles mono sides are -- this nevertheless is the best the Rolling Stones have sounded on disc (or on vinyl) and there's considerable care in this package, from the replications of the sleeves to the extensive notes from David Fricke. Plus, hearing the Stones in mono winds up being a hot wire back toward the '60s: this feels raw and vibrant, as alive as the band was in the '60s.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Following on from four past single disc collections of hits collections, Cliff Richard's first ever U.K. double album offered a straightforward recounting of, not necessarily his 40 greatest hits, but certainly his 40 best known. No statistical ground rules set out its contents. Rather, the compilers went by instinct and, perhaps, a well-developed sense of the mystic point where musical immortality departs from commercial superiority. Of the artist's eight number ones to date, one, 1960s "I Love You," was absent. Of 12 Top Ten hits scored between 1966-79, three were replaced by lower ranking, but infinitely more memorable efforts. It seems incredible that such mid-1970s gems as "Miss You Nights" and "My Kinda Life" were outperformed by the likes of "Big Ship" and "It's All Over," but that's the mystery of the pop charts for you. The bulk of the album, of course, is concentrated on the years when Richard didn't simply dominate British rock, he epitomized it. The whole of the first album (the first disc on the CD reissue) is dedicated to the 1958-63 period; the remainder of the 1960s consume more than half the rest of the record -- 1970s "Goodbye Sam, Hello Samantha," famously celebrated at the time as the artist's 50th single, doesn't arrive until the 33rd track, while the five years which divided that from his "Devil Woman"-led rebirth are summed up in just three songs. And that is precisely how it should have been. 40 Golden Greats slammed to the top of the U.K. chart in November 1977, his first number one since 1963's Summer Holiday, and was it mere chance -- or wry fate -- which decreed that when it was dislodged from that lofty peak, it was the Sex Pistols who did it. Twenty years earlier, after all, Richard himself had been Public Enemy #1, with "Move It," a blast of brutal punk rock as potently shocking to listeners of the time as all of Johnny Rotten's patent outrage. The difference is, in 1977, "Move It" still bristled with all its original passion. One could not help but wonder whether the Pistols would prove so enduring.© Dave Thompson /TiVo

Alphabetical is Phoenix's second album, trailing their debut by nearly four years. It's much less of a mishmash than its predecessor, basing itself around the group's soft, cunningly arranged pop that occasionally reaches beyond '70s AM and '80s sophisti-pop to slip in discreet traces of hip-hop. During their time away, Phoenix became much more proficient as synthesists; certain moments on 2000's United seemed to signal, "Here's where we declare our love of country music," or "Here's the song where we try to sound exactly like Todd Rundgren." This issue has been fixed; the seams that bind their inspirations are now less visible. They're also much better songwriters now, but the lack of variation -- in tempo and in sound -- nearly wipes out the positives by leaving the album with a sluggishness. It's particularly troublesome if you're not in a very specific mood (not simply laid-back, but a kind of laid-back) and want to stay there for the duration of the listen. The album would've benefited from a song or two with the vigor of United's "Too Young" and "If I Ever Feel Better" to break up the monotony; and tracks three through 11 are nowhere near the high level of tracks one and two, making the album drag all the more as it plays out. If not a qualified across-the-board improvement, Alphabetical is at least a good record by a group with plenty of unrealized potential. Perhaps they should stick to singles.© Andy Kellman /TiVo

Generational Southern rockers the Allman Betts Band return to the roots-rock well for their second album in as many years. Formed by Devon Allman (vocals, guitar) and Duane Betts (vocals, guitar) to carry the torch lit in the 1970s by their famous fathers, Gregg Allman and Dickie Betts, the new group's prime initiative was essentially to pay direct homage to the Allman Brothers Band's legacy, playing that group's classic material live while writing some new songs of their own in the now-familiar vernacular. To that end, the Allman Betts Band are an absolute success; they made their recorded debut in 2019 with Down to the River, a warmly captured sonic tribute to the Southern-fried blues-rock/country-soul amalgam the original Allmans made famous decades earlier. It was even recorded in glowing analog at Alabama's legendary Muscle Shoals Sound Studios, notable for being one of the Allman Brothers Band's original points of origin. Released one year later, the Allman Betts Band's sophomore LP, Bless Your Heart, follows more or less the same formula as its predecessor. Recorded live to tape at Muscle Shoals, Bless Your Heart is a reliable and often-pleasing romp down the muggy dirt roads of soulful Southern rock that hits its mark squarely without making any real attempts to rock the boat. Given the group's M.O., that's not necessarily a bad thing. Allman, Betts, and bassist Berry Duane Oakley -- son of Allman Brothers Band founding member Berry Oakley and another key player in this mix -- are all fluid, capable musicians with deep knowledge, personal history, and an inherent chemistry well-suited to this type of music. If tracks like "Carolina Song" and "Magnolia Road" sound like not-so-distant echoes of the music their fathers made, then perhaps they are simply doing their heritage a service. Probably the most adventurous cut here is the sprawling 12-minute instrumental "Savannah's Dream" which at times crashes into psych or prog rock -- albeit distinctly Southern, of course -- territory with its nimble arpeggios and near-telepathic trading of licks. Whether or not the Allman Betts Band will make any hard left turns from their chosen path remains to be seen, but two albums in, their dogged adherence to family and cultural traditions remains their defining feature.© Timothy Monger /TiVo

Fashions pass, God stays. Whatever we think of the man, he's still there, even where we don't expect it. Just like on Kevin Morby's fifth solo recording. The concept-album of this great American indie rock guru is neither a soundtrack for devout church-goers, nor an exalted symphony blind to the glory of the great bearded man sitting up there on his cloud... Former bass player of the band Woods and singer of The Babies, Morby takes the word of God by the collar and takes it a little bit everywhere. It is both the God of gospel as well as the God of oh my god. The album has a lot of gospel to offer. It quickly becomes chamber rock that slips into poisonous Lou Reed style rock (Velvet era), preacher-ish like Bob Dylan or disillusioned like Leonard Cohen, three of the iconic craftsmen. The instrumentation follows the forms of the minute and the songwriter unveils the flute, the saxophone and Wurlitzer if necessary. The fourteen songs of Oh My God are especially tight because of their lavish form and the sequences always being well thought-out. As always with Kevin Morby, the classicism of his music does not match the speed of time. For this, you just have to take it in, to follow him in his inner wanderings. Believer, agnostic or atheist, just close your eyes and let yourself be rocked by the unique style of this unique modern rock band. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

The evolution from blues to rock accelerated with the Rolling Stones' second American LP. They turned soul into guitar rock for the hits "It's All Over Now" and "Time Is on My Side" (the latter of which was their first American Top Ten single). "2120 South Michigan Avenue" is a great instrumental blues-rock jam; "Around and Around" is one of their best Chuck Berry covers; and "If You Need Me" reflects an increasing contemporary soul influence. On the other hand, the group originals (except for the propulsive "Empty Heart") are weak and derivative, indicating that the band still had a way to go before it could truly challenge the Beatles' throne.© Richie Unterberger /TiVo