The maelstrom of hype surrounding self-modeled Hollywood pop star Lana Del Rey's 2012 breakthrough album, Born to Die, found critics, listeners, and pop culture aficionados divided about her detached, hyper-stylized approach to every aspect of her music and public persona. What managed to get overlooked by many was that Born to Die made such a polarizing impression because it actually offered something that didn't sound like anything else. Del Rey's sultry, overstated orchestral pop recast her as some sort of vaguely imagined chanteuse for a generation raised on Adderall and the Internet, with heavy doses of Twin Peaks atmosphere adding a creepy sheen to intentionally vapid (and undeniably catchy) radio hits. Follow-up album Ultraviolence shifts gears considerably, building a thick, slow-moving atmosphere with its languid songs and opulent arrangements. Gone are the big beats and glossy production that resulted in tracks like "Summertime Sadness." Instead, Ultraviolence begins with the protracted, rolling melancholia of "Cruel World," nearly seven minutes of what feels like a sad, reverb-drenched daydream. The song sets the stage for the rest of the album, which simmers with a haunted, yearning feeling but never boils over. Even the most pop-friendly moments here are steeped in patient, jazz-inflected moodiness, as with the sad-eyed longing of "Shades of Cool" or the unexpected tempo changes that connect the slinky verses of single "West Coast" to their syrupy, swaying choruses. Production from the Black Keys' Dan Auerbach might have something to do with the metered restraint that permeates the album, with songs like "Sad Girl" carrying some of the slow-burning touches of greasy blues-rock Auerbach is known for. A few puzzling moments break up the continuity of the album. The somewhat hooky elements of "Brooklyn Baby" can't quite rise above its disjointed song structure and cringeable lyrics that could be taken either as mockery of the hipster lifestyle or self-parody. "Money Power Glory" steps briefly out of the overall dreamscape of the album, sounding like a tossed-off outtake from the Born to Die sessions. Despite these mild missteps, Ultraviolence thrives for the most part in its density, meant clearly to be absorbed as an entire experience, with even its weaker pieces contributing to a mood that's consumptive, sexy, and as eerie as big-budget pop music gets. Del Rey's loudest detractors criticized her music as a hollow, cliché-ridden product designed by the music industry and lacking the type of substance that makes real pop stars pop. Ultraviolence asserts that as a songwriter, she has complete control of her craft, deciding on songs far less flashy or immediate but still uniquely captivating. As these songs shift her sound into more mature and nuanced places, it becomes clear that every deadpan affectation, lispy lyric, and overblown allusion to desperate living has been a knowing move in the creation of the strange, beguiling character -- and sonic experience -- we know as Lana Del Rey.© Fred Thomas /TiVo

Scaled smaller than 2012's double-album Privateering, Tracker also feels suitably subtle, easing its way into being instead of announcing itself with a thunder. Such understatement is typical of Mark Knopfler, particularly in the third act of his career. When he left Dire Straits behind, he also left behind any semblance of playing for the cheap seats in an arena, but Tracker feels quieter than his new millennial norm. Some of this is due to the undercurrent of reflection tugging at the record's momentum. Knopfler isn't pining for the past but he is looking back, sometimes wistfully, sometimes with a resigned smile, and he appropriately draws upon sounds that he's long loved. Usually, this means some variation of pub rock -- the languid ballad "River Towns," the lazy shuffle "Skydiver," the two-chord groove of "Broken Bones" -- but this is merely the foundation from which Knopfler threads in a fair amount of olde British folk and other roots digressions. This delicate melancholy complements echoes of older Knopfler songs -- significant stretches of the record are reminiscent of the moodier aspects of Brothers in Arms, while "Beryl" has just a bit of the "Sultans of Swing" bounce -- and this skillful interweaving of Knopfler's personal past helps give Tracker a nicely gentle resonance.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Eurythmics followed their 1982 breakthrough album Sweet Dreams with the superior Touch, which yielded three hit singles and kept the innovative duo at the forefront of the 1980s British new wave explosion and MTV phenomenon. Mixing cold, hard, synthesized riffs with warm, luscious vocals, the duo crafted some of the most unique and trendsetting music the 1980s had to offer. Subsequent albums found the duo leaning heavier toward straightforward rock -- this album found them at the height of their electronic incarnation. The lead single, "Here Comes the Rain Again," is a melodramatic opus, complete with pre-techno beats, sweeping strings, and Annie Lennox' rushing, cool vocals. The soulful "Who's That Girl" is an icy, steamy throwback to the torch songs of yesteryear, with Lennox oozing sensuality from every syllable emitted from her lips. The final hit, "Right by Your Side," finds the duo in a cheerful, Caribbean-inspired mode. Other standouts include the seven-and-a-half-minute disco trance of "Paint a Rumour," the driving "The First Cut," and the icy, spellbinding, and sparse "No Fear No Hate No Pain (No Broken Hearts)." The cool, sophisticated musical experimentalism all over Touch cemented Eurythmics' reputation as one of the most innovative duos of their time; the hit singles solidified their reputation as dependable 1980s hitmakers and MTV mainstays. Touch is a testament to what Eurythmics were at the height of their electronic-techno phase and, without doubt, is a milestone in 1980s pop music.© Jose F. Promis /TiVo

The surprise success of Beauty and the Beat meant that the Go-Go's were expected to remain hitmakers, so perhaps it shouldn't have come as a surprise that their second album, Vacation, is a considerably slicker affair than their debut. Sporting a glossy yet alluring finish, the album has an appealing, radio-ready sound, but it's at the expense of the giddy sense of fun that made Beauty and the Beat such a vibrant record. However, Vacation is far from a washout. Although half the album is padded with filler, the very best moments are terrific pop songs, highlighted by the bouncy "This Old Feeling" and the classic title track. © Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Rebounding after a difficult debut, Squeeze hunkered down with producer John Wood -- the engineer of U.K. Squeeze -- and cut Cool for Cats, which for all intents and purposes is their true debut album. More than U.K. Squeeze, Cool for Cats captures the popcraft of Chris Difford and Glenn Tilbrook, while also sketching out a unique musical territory for the band, something that draws deeply on '60s pop, the stripped-down propulsive energy of pop/rock, and the nervy style of new wave. Although this is considerably less chaotic and aggressive than U.K. Squeeze, Cool for Cats feels like it belongs to its time more than its predecessor, partially due to the heavy emphasis on Jools Holland's keyboards and partially due to the dry British wit of Difford, whose best work here reveals him as a rival to Elvis Costello and Ian Dury. Chief among those is "Up the Junction," a marvelous short story chronicling a doomed relationship, but there's also the sly kinky jokes married to deft characterizations on "Slap and Tickle," the heartbroken tale of "Goodbye Girl," and the daft surrealism of "Cool for Cats." These are subtle, sophisticated songs that are balanced by a lot of direct, unsophisticated songs, as Difford picks up on the sexually charged vibe of John Cale and gets even kinkier, throwing out songs about masturbation and cross-dressing, occasionally dipping into how he's feeling slightly drunk. Tilbrook pairs these ribald tales to frenzied rock & roll, equal parts big hooks and rollicking rhythms, including a couple of showcases for Holland's boogie-woogie piano. It's all a bit scattered but in a purposeful way, as the impish wit lends the pub rockers a kinky kick while Tilbrook's tunefulness gives it all an identity. Cool for Cats winds up being wild and weird, angular and odd in a way only a new wave album from 1979 could possibly be, but this is a high watermark for its era with the best moments effortless transcending its time.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

The Rolling Stones' 1967 recordings are a matter of some controversy; many critics felt that they were compromising their raw, rootsy power with trendy emulations of the Beatles, Kinks, Dylan, and psychedelic music. Approach this album with an open mind, though, and you'll find it to be one of their strongest, most eclectic LPs, with many fine songs that remain unknown to all but Stones devotees. The lyrics are getting better (if more savage), and the arrangements more creative, on brooding near-classics like "All Sold Out," "My Obsession," and "Yesterday's Papers." "She Smiled Sweetly" shows their hidden romantic side at its best, while "Connection" is one of the record's few slabs of conventionally driving rock. The best tracks on the American edition were the two songs that gave the group a double-sided number one in early 1967: the lustful "Let's Spend the Night Together" and the beautiful, melancholy "Ruby Tuesday," which is as melodic as anything Mick Jagger and Keith Richards would ever write.© Richie Unterberger /TiVo

The maelstrom of hype surrounding self-modeled Hollywood pop star Lana Del Rey's 2012 breakthrough album, Born to Die, found critics, listeners, and pop culture aficionados divided about her detached, hyper-stylized approach to every aspect of her music and public persona. What managed to get overlooked by many was that Born to Die made such a polarizing impression because it actually offered something that didn't sound like anything else. Del Rey's sultry, overstated orchestral pop recast her as some sort of vaguely imagined chanteuse for a generation raised on Adderall and the Internet, with heavy doses of Twin Peaks atmosphere adding a creepy sheen to intentionally vapid (and undeniably catchy) radio hits. Follow-up album Ultraviolence shifts gears considerably, building a thick, slow-moving atmosphere with its languid songs and opulent arrangements. Gone are the big beats and glossy production that resulted in tracks like "Summertime Sadness." Instead, Ultraviolence begins with the protracted, rolling melancholia of "Cruel World," nearly seven minutes of what feels like a sad, reverb-drenched daydream. The song sets the stage for the rest of the album, which simmers with a haunted, yearning feeling but never boils over. Even the most pop-friendly moments here are steeped in patient, jazz-inflected moodiness, as with the sad-eyed longing of "Shades of Cool" or the unexpected tempo changes that connect the slinky verses of single "West Coast" to their syrupy, swaying choruses. Production from the Black Keys' Dan Auerbach might have something to do with the metered restraint that permeates the album, with songs like "Sad Girl" carrying some of the slow-burning touches of greasy blues-rock Auerbach is known for. A few puzzling moments break up the continuity of the album. The somewhat hooky elements of "Brooklyn Baby" can't quite rise above its disjointed song structure and cringeable lyrics that could be taken either as mockery of the hipster lifestyle or self-parody. "Money Power Glory" steps briefly out of the overall dreamscape of the album, sounding like a tossed-off outtake from the Born to Die sessions. Despite these mild missteps, Ultraviolence thrives for the most part in its density, meant clearly to be absorbed as an entire experience, with even its weaker pieces contributing to a mood that's consumptive, sexy, and as eerie as big-budget pop music gets. Del Rey's loudest detractors criticized her music as a hollow, cliché-ridden product designed by the music industry and lacking the type of substance that makes real pop stars pop. Ultraviolence asserts that as a songwriter, she has complete control of her craft, deciding on songs far less flashy or immediate but still uniquely captivating. As these songs shift her sound into more mature and nuanced places, it becomes clear that every deadpan affectation, lispy lyric, and overblown allusion to desperate living has been a knowing move in the creation of the strange, beguiling character -- and sonic experience -- we know as Lana Del Rey.© Fred Thomas /TiVo

Steve Miller was always catchy and tuneful, but he never turned out an unabashed pop album until 1982's Abracadabra. This isn't just pop in construction, it's pop in attitude, filled with effervescent melodies and deeply silly lyrics, perhaps none more noteworthy than the immortal couplet "Abra-Abracadabra/I wanna reach out and grab ya." Those words graced the title track, which turned out to be one of his biggest hits, and if nothing else is quite as irresistibly goofy as that song, there still is a surplus of engagingly tuneful material, all dressed up in the psuedo-new wave production so favored by AOR veterans in the early '80s. All of that may not make this one of Miller's definitive albums, especially in the view of hardcore space blues heads, but it's pretty damn irresistible for listeners who find "Abracadabra" one of the highlights of faux-new wave AOR. © Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

After the frankness of songs like "Habits (Stay High)" and "Talking Body," it's not surprising that Tove Lo named her second album after a term for a female erection. Even her collaboration with Alesso, "Heroes (We Could Be)," kept some of Queen of the Clouds' dark, rebellious charisma, which she refines on Lady Wood. Building on the success of that song and "Talking Body," Lo takes her music in a sleeker direction informed by EDM and R&B. The former single "Cool Girl" sets the tone for the rest of the album: Over sparse synths and beats, Lo adopts the perspective of Gone Girl's fantasy woman, using indifference as armor against any threat of heartache or vulnerability. This aloofness informs Lady Wood's first half -- like Queen of the Clouds, the album is presented in chapters -- as Lo juxtaposes smooth sounds with a viewpoint that's anything but. Sometimes this combination works well; when Lo sings "I'm gonna get hurt" on "True Disaster," the sweet melody adds a thrill of anticipation. On the brooding title track, however, it feels too subdued. Lady Wood's second half is more consistent, in large part because the painfully honest -- and relatable -- drama queen of Queen of the Clouds is given a wider berth. On the smoldering "Don't Talk About It," Lo gets as much mileage from keeping secrets as she did confessing them on her debut. Meanwhile, on "Imaginary Friend," she devises a different form of escapism than she did on "Habits (Stay High)." Songs like these and "Keep It Simple" make the most of Lo's big voice and personality on an album that, despite its provocative title, often feels more straightforward than Queen of the Clouds did.© Heather Phares /TiVo

Two decades after his untimely death at the age of 50, Joe Strummer is still synonymous with the Clash, a band that notoriously dissolved in 1986 leaving behind one of rock's most influential legacies. During the years that followed their demise, Strummer's output was an uneven, if interesting hodgepodge of one-off projects, soundtrack contributions, production gigs, and the lone 1989 solo album Earthquake Weather. Often considered his wilderness years, this period was the primary subject of 2018's Joe Strummer 001, a surprisingly generous box set that also paid homage to his formative pre-Clash years. While the Clash may have been "the only band that matters," Strummer's final band, the Mescaleros, were pretty damned great. A sequel to the aforementioned collection, Joe Strummer 002: The Mescaleros Years makes the case that at the time of his death, he was making some of the most vibrant music of his career. In the late '90s, a newly invigorated Strummer had fallen in with a younger crowd that included acid house producer Richard Norris. The lawless nature of Britain's rave culture meshed with Strummer's own ideals and a project began to take shape that fused the roving campfire scene he'd been promoting with the spirit of the electronic underground. Although Norris' involvement faded out, a proper crew of young, like-minded rogues soon coalesced, feeding Strummer's inherent need for union and off-the-cuff collaboration. Unlike Earthquake Weather, 1999's Rock Art and the X-Ray Style -- credited to Joe Strummer and the Mescaleros -- revived the searching rebel spirit and spontaneity that was so integral to his best work with the Clash. Adding to this was a renewed commitment to multicultural sounds and the adoption of contemporary production techniques to further spur his interest. Follow-up album Global a Go-Go was an even wilder dive into world music with a sharp folky edge that yielded one of Strummer's best latter-day songs, the rousing "Johnny Appleseed." Writing with renewed purpose and playing with youthful vigor, he was about three-quarters of the way through the third Mescaleros album when a heart attack suddenly ended his life in December 2002. Core bandmates Martin Slattery and Scott Shields were left to finish the album from the existing sessions. Far from being a posthumously assembled curiosity, Streetcore is, in fact, magnificent, a fiery and cohesive collection widely considered to be Strummer's best work since London Calling. In hindsight, going out in such a blaze of glory seems an almost inevitable outcome for one of rock's greatest firebrands and his legacy has only benefited in the years hence. Joe Strummer 002 is worth its weight simply for containing remastered versions of all three Mescaleros albums, but the copious liner notes, ephemera, and bonus disc of demos and rarities make it essential.© Timothy Monger /TiVo

When her sophomore album, Future Nostalgia, was greeted with overwhelming acclaim at the start of 2020, English pop diva Dua Lipa decided to gift fans with a bonus remix LP, Club Future Nostalgia. With American electronic artist the Blessed Madonna at the helm, the disco-kissed pop perfection of the original receives a sweaty, thumping update in the form of an extended DJ mix. Seamlessly throbbing from track to track, the set revisits each of the impeccably produced songs from Future Nostalgia, sometimes improving them ("Boys Will Be Boys") and other times not quite hitting the highs that the crew targeted, like on the Madonna and Missy Elliot update of "Levitating." The Blessed Madonna goes deep on "Hallucinate" with Mr. Fingers and Paul Woolford and on "Pretty Please" with Midland and Masters at Work, which offer the most interesting takes on the album. Unreleased session cuts "Love Is Religion" and "That Kind of Woman" make their official debuts here, both highlights in their own right. The former, a joyous romp that soars during the choir-backed chorus, could have been a single, while the latter gets Stuart Price's Jacques Lu Cont treatment as a pulsing gem that's woven with Stevie Nicks' "Stand Back." Additional surprises pop up elsewhere in the mix, bringing samples by Jamiroquai ("Canned Heat") and Neneh Cherry ("Buffalo Stance") to the party alongside guest vocalists Gwen Stefani and Blackpink and producers Yaeji and Mark Ronson. Like the original, this is a nonstop party. However, without the boundaries of an official studio release, Club Future Nostalgia transforms Dua's party for one into a full-on collaborative celebration. While first-timers to this era would be best served listening to the parent album first, existing fans who can't get enough of that LP will find Club Future Nostalgia to be an absolute blast.© Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo

The first in a series of three double-CD sets of previously unreleased and rare Beatles material, released in conjunction with the mammoth Anthology video documentary. This covers the late '50s to the end of 1964, mixing studio outtakes, live performances, primitive recordings from the Quarrymen/Silver Beatles days, excerpts from the famous 1962 Decca audition, the most notable 1961 Tony Sheridan-era recordings, and brief spoken bits from interviews. Although this material is undeniably of vast historical importance, it can't be placed in the same company as the Beatles' proper albums, in either cohesion or quality. While the studio outtakes (many never even heard on bootleg) are the most enticing items, these are almost exclusively alternate versions of songs they placed on their official releases (the most notable exceptions being the 1964 R&B cover "Leave My Kitten Alone," the 1962 demo "How Do You Do It," and the unimpressive 1964 Harrison original "You Know What to Do"). Sometimes the differences are quite interesting (a much more electric-oriented version of "And I Love Her," for example), but the alternates also illustrate how the group were virtually unerring in selecting the best arrangement and take of their songs for the final versions. The pre-1962 items are sometimes taken from private rehearsal tapes of primitive fidelity and are really of archival value only. One could go on at great length about the many curiosities and finds unearthed by this compilation, but for most general consumers, two observations may suffice. It does not stand up to the Beatles' fully conceived albums (even Live at the BBC), but the Beatles' scraps and leavings are more interesting than over 95 percent of other performers' best work. By that standard, this must be judged a worthwhile collection, especially (but not solely) for dedicated Beatles fans.© Richie Unterberger /TiVo

Above all, Squeeze were a great singles act -- among the finest of the era -- and Singles 45's and Under offers proof of that fact, giving a chronological survey of their biggest hits from their early, pre-breakup period. Most of the songs can be found on the actual albums, aside from the slightly different single version of "Goodbye Girl" and the new "Annie Get Your Gun," but with a perfect collection like this, even those with the albums should purchase this one as well. © Chris Woodstra /TiVo