Sat at the table of contemporary blues-rock, these two are having an absolute feast. On the one hand, Samantha Fish is a singer and guitarist from Kansas City, full of typical Southern banter and eclecticism. On the other, Texan guitarist and singer, Jesse Dayton, is the pistolero of the series B Americana, an artist who is equally as comfortable with Rob Zombie as on an album of Kinky Friedman covers or on stage with X. They met a decade ago (Samantha Fish was a fan of Jesse Dayton) and released their first single together in 2022 (the EP Stardust Sessions). For this new album-length duet recording, it's the excited Jon Spencer, of the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, who acts as the go-between in his role as producer and artistic adviser. It would not be an unfair comparison to say that his mediation was reminiscent of a dynamite stick in a bowl of chilli. The basic premise (of festive electric blues-rock, which makes you thirsty and makes you want to tap your feet, and maybe even take your clothes off) is boosted and refined by the production of Jon Spencer, an eternal magician of sexy gimmicks and killer details. This augmented duo doesn't invent anything, but yet it triggers a firework display of crazy guitars and vocal interjections based on "yeah !!!!” and “ oh oh oh !!!!” (and often both in the same sentence). Everyone seems to be having a lot of fun on this album which celebrates the simple joys of funky rock 'n' roll and its bluesy roots. Purists probably won't like it, but everyone else will really enjoy this burger and fries kind of album. @Stéphane Deschamps/Qobuz

Her sensual voice is irresistible. Elizabeth Grant, aka Lana Del Rey, could sing the instruction manual for a wireless vacuum cleaner and she would still have our full attention. Even when she invites the whole world to join her (A$AP Rocky, The Weeknd, Stevie Nicks and Sean Lennon all featured on Lust For Life, her album released in 2017), she lives in her own little world where time moves slow and melancholy reigns supreme. Making music is her way of talking about her era, her contemporaries, the American Dream and, as far as we can tell, herself... With its shocking title, stylised album cover (featuring Duke Nicholson, Jack Nicholson’s grandson, aboard a boat sailing away from a burning coast) and her particularly slow tempos (only ballads here), Norman Fucking Rockwell! is largely rooted in folk. Del Rey roams around this great soundscape, more melancholic and evanescent than ever. She closely collaborated with Jack Antonoff on this album (a sought-after producer for pop stars such as Taylor Swift, St. Vincent, Lorde, Carly Rae Jepsen and Pink) and the producer shapes her melancholy with equal amounts of sobriety and slickness. The slow rhythms on this beautiful record offer a welcome break from the turbulence of today. One of the tracks that stands out is a cover of Sublime’s Doin’ Time (1996), itself a new interpretation of Gershwin’s Summertime, offering further proof of Lana Del Rey’s originality, something which is much more complex than some would have us believe... © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

A sequel to Nicki Minaj's 2010 debut Pink Friday, this super-stuffed album (22 tracks, 70-plus minutes) finds the rap queen defending her throne and showing off her diverse range of skills. It kicks off with a slow jam, "Are You Gone Already"—a lullaby for her dad, killed in a hit-and-run in 2022—that interpolates large, sped-up chunks of Billie Eilish's "When the Party's Over." But right after that is "Barbie Dangerous" highlighting Minaj's signature rapid-fire precision on inventive verses that reference her young son (nicknamed Papa Bear): "Name a rapper that can channel Big Poppa and push out Papa Bear/ Ho, I'm mother of the year." Moody "Nicki Hendrix," featuring an Auto-Tuned Future serves as a reminder tha Minaj can sing with real emotion. Excellent "Let Me Calm Down" shines with a '90s throwback feel—delivering silky-smooth R&B balladry, hard-spitting from Minaj and a breathtaking, roller-coaster guest turn from J. Cole as he defends the queen. Indeed, Minaj flexes her power via the big names she's able to enlist. Drake brings the sexy come-ons for dance-floor ready "Needle," with its island-breeze vibes and references to Minaj's Trinidadian origin story. On twinkly "RNB," Lil Wayne goads and Tate Kobang croons, while Minaj swears her ride-or-die devotion. As usual, Minaj seemingly takes swipes at rivals, including Megan Thee Stallion on bombastic "FTCU." She also pulls out her notorious alter egos, such as Harajuku Barbie on "Cowgirl"—which also shines with dreamy singer-songwriter guitar and Lourdiz singing sweetly about a sex position. Minaj's other selves mostly stay in the closet, though new addition Red Ruby gets introduced via irresistible "Red Ruby da Sleeze," a spicy dancehall-flavored track that samples Lumidee's 2003 hit "Never Leave You." Pop hits are put to good use on bass-booming "My Life" (Blondie's "Heart of Glass") and "Pink Friday Girls," which borrows all the best part of Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" and is sheer exuberance in the vein of Minaj's 2012 classic "Starships." Divisive "Everybody" turns the madness up to 11, sampling the Junior Senior earworm "Move Your Feet" and layering on a tongue-twister verse from Lil Uzi Vert. Minaj sprays her lyrics in short spurts and cleverly uses the sample: "Pretty face with a Barbie doll (Body)/ 'Nother year, 'nother Vince Lom' (Body)." Get ready, because it's going to be blasting from cars and TikTok videos for months to come. Super fun "Super Freaky Girl" samples Rick James and leans hard into a cheerleader chant ("F-R-EEEE-A-K"), with lines that range from cartoon double-entendres to plainspoken raunch. Minaj completely switches gears on "Blessings," featuring gospel singer Tasha Cobbs Leonard, and sincerely thanks God for all she has in life. Finally, she switches to a deeper, T-Boz-like register and reggae feel for "Just the Memories"—a sincere-sounding reminder of how Minaj got here: "I remember when I was the girl that everybody doubted/ When every label turned me down, and then they laughed about it/ I 'member goin' home and writin' fifty more raps." © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

In a word, stunning. Perhaps an odd word to use given that Violator continued in the general vein of the previous two studio efforts by Depeche Mode: Martin Gore's upfront lyrical emotional extremism and knack for a catchy hook filtered through Alan Wilder's ear for perfect arrangements, ably assisted by top English producer Flood. Yet the idea that this record would both dominate worldwide charts, while song for song being simply the best, most consistent effort yet from the band could only have been the wildest fantasy before its release. The opening two singles from the album, however, signaled something was up. First was "Personal Jesus," at once perversely simplistic, with a stiff, arcane funk/hip-hop beat and basic blues guitar chords, and tremendous, thanks to sharp production touches and David Gahan's echoed, snaky vocals. Then "Enjoy the Silence," a nothing-else-remains-but-us ballad pumped up into a huge, dramatic romance/dance number, commanding in its mock orchestral/choir scope. Follow-up single "Policy of Truth" did just fine as well, a low-key Motown funk number for the modern day with a sharp love/hate lyric to boot. To top it all off, the album itself scored on song after song, from the shuffling beat of "Sweetest Perfection" (well sung by Gore) and the ethereal "Waiting for the Night" to the guilt-ridden-and-loving-it "Halo" building into a string-swept pounder. "Clean" wraps up Violator on an eerie note, all ominous bass notes and odd atmospherics carrying the song. Goth without ever being stupidly hammy, synth without sounding like the clinical stereotype of synth music, rock without ever sounding like a "rock" band, Depeche here reach astounding heights indeed.© Ned Raggett /TiVo

Eight years separate 2005's A Bigger Bang, the Rolling Stones' 24th album of original material, from its 1997 predecessor, Bridges to Babylon, the longest stretch of time between Stones albums in history, but unlike the three-year gap between 1986's Dirty Work and 1989's Steel Wheels, the band never really went away. They toured steadily, not just behind Bridges but behind the career-spanning 2002 compilation Forty Licks, and the steady activity paid off nicely, as the 2004 concert souvenir album Live Licks proved. The tight, sleek, muscular band showcased there was a surprise -- they played with a strength and swagger they hadn't had in years -- but a bigger surprise is that A Bigger Bang finds that reinvigorated band carrying its latter-day renaissance into the studio, turning in a sinewy, confident, satisfying album that's the band's best in years. Of course, every Stones album since their highly touted, self-conscious 1989 comeback, Steel Wheels, has been designed to get this kind of positive press, to get reviewers to haul out the cliché that this is their "best record since Exile on Main St." (Mick Jagger is so conscious of this, he deliberately compared Bigger Bang to Exile in all pre-release publicity and press, even if the scope and feel of Bang is very different from that 1972 classic), so it's hard not to take any praise with a grain of salt, but there is a big difference between this album and 1994's Voodoo Lounge. That album was deliberately classicist, touching on all of the signatures of classic mid-period, late-'60s/early-'70s Stones -- reviving the folk, country, and straight blues that balanced their trademark rockers -- and while it was often successful, it very much sounded like the Stones trying to be the Stones. What distinguishes A Bigger Bang is that it captures the Stones simply being the Stones, playing without guest stars, not trying to have a hit, not trying to adopt the production style of the day, not doing anything but lying back and playing. Far from sounding like a lazy affair, the album rocks really hard, tearing out of the gate with "Rough Justice," the toughest, sleaziest, and flat-out best song Jagger and Richards have come up with in years. It's not a red herring, either -- "She Saw Me Coming," "Look What the Cat Dragged In," and the terrific "Oh No Not You Again," which finds Mick spitting out lyrics with venom and zeal, are equally as hard and exciting, but the album isn't simply a collection of rockers. The band delves into straight blues with "Back of My Hand," turns toward pop with "Let Me Down Slow," rides a disco groove reminiscent of "Emotional Rescue" on "Rain Fall Down," and has a number of ballads, highlighted by "Streets of Love" and Keith's late-night barroom anthem "This Place Is Empty," that benefit greatly from the stripped-down, uncluttered production by Don Was and the Glimmer Twins. Throughout the album, the interplay of the band is at the forefront, which is one of the reasons the record is so consistent: even the songs that drift toward the generic are redeemed by the sound of the greatest rock & roll band ever playing at a latter-day peak. And, make no mistake about it, the Stones sound better as a band than they have in years: there's an ease and assurance to their performances that are a joy to hear, whether they're settling into a soulful groove or rocking harder than any group of 60-year-olds should. But A Bigger Bang doesn't succeed simply because the Stones are great musicians, it also works because this is a strong set of Jagger-Richards originals -- naturally, the songs don't rival their standards from the '60s and '70s, but the best songs here more than hold their own with the best of their post-Exile work, and there are more good songs here than on any Stones album since Some Girls. This may not be a startling comeback along the lines of Bob Dylan's Love and Theft, but that's fine, because over the last three decades the Stones haven't been about surprises: they've been about reliability. The problem is, they haven't always lived up to their promises, or when they did deliver the goods, it was sporadic and unpredictable. And that's what's unexpected about A Bigger Bang: they finally hold up their end of the bargain, delivering a strong, engaging, cohesive Rolling Stones album that finds everybody in prime form. Keith is loose and limber, Charlie is tight and controlled, Ronnie lays down some thrilling, greasy slide guitar, and Mick is having a grand time, making dirty jokes, baiting neo-cons, and sounding more committed to the Stones than he has in years. Best of all, this is a record where the band acknowledges its age and doesn't make a big deal about it: they're not in denial, trying to act like a younger band, they've simply accepted what they do best and go about doing it as if it's no big deal. But that's what makes A Bigger Bang a big deal: it's the Stones back in fighting form for the first time in years, and they have both the strength and the stamina to make the excellent latter-day effort everybody's been waiting for all these years.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Facing the third album blues, the Arctic Monkeys turned to Josh Homme, the Queens of the Stone Age mastermind renowned for his collaborations but heretofore untested as a producer. On first glance, it's a peculiar pair -- the heirs of Paul Weller meet the heavy desert mystic -- but this isn't a team of equals, it's a big brother helping his little siblings go wayward and get weird. Homme doesn't imprint his own views on the Monkeys but encourages them to follow their strange instincts, whether it's a Nick Cave obsession or the inclination to emphasize atmosphere over energy. Wading into the murk of Humbug it becomes clear that the common ground between the Monkeys and Homme is the actual act of making music, the pleasure of not knowing what comes next when an entire band is drifting inside a zone. Since so much of Humbug is about its process, it's not always immediately accessible or pleasurable to an outside listener, nor is it quite the thickly colored freakout Homme's presence suggests. The Monkeys still favor angular riffs and clenched rhythms, constructing tightly framed vignettes not widescreen epics, but they're working with a darker palette and creating vaguely abstract compositions, sensibilities that extend to Alex Turner's words too, as he trades keen detail for vivid scrawled impressions. Every element of the album reflects a band testing its limits, seeing where they could -- not necessarily will -- go next; it's a voyage through territory that's new to them as musicians (which doesn't necessarily mean that it's also new to their audience), offering at a peek at what lies beyond via three songs cut after the desert sessions, songs informed by what they learned during their sojourn with Homme. This trio of tunes, highlighted by "Cornerstone," aren't as darkly as evocative as the rest of the dense, gnarled Humbug but they're among the best songs the album has to offer suggesting that the record may mean more in the long-term that it does on its own. Nevertheless, Humbug makes two things clear: Arctic Monkeys are serious about being in a band, about making music, and they are the first major British band in generations unencumbered by fear or spite for America. Humbug was not done with hopes of breaking the American market or reacting spitefully against it, it is solely about big, loud, dark noise. No wonder Josh Homme sensed he had a band of little brothers in Arctic Monkeys. © Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

While Madison Beer got personal on her full-length debut, Life Support (2021), an album that tackled grief, breakups, and struggles with mental health, she gets even more vulnerable on the more restrained, ballad-heavy follow-up, Silence Between Songs. Working with around a dozen producers and co-writers, among them Life Support's Leroy Clampitt and One Love, its more intimate character was at least partly inspired by Lana Del Rey, who received her own advanced copy of the record. Jazz pianist and music polymath James Francies and Grammy-winning songwriter Tobias Jesso, Jr. were among the behind-the-scenes contributors to the lyrical "Dangerous," one of many strings-embellished (and sometimes rock-injected) ballads here that deal with relationships gone wrong. Also included in the 14-song set are the pulsing "Home to Another One" and "Sweet Relief," whose thumping bass rhythms are nonetheless accompanied by a wispy, introspective vocal delivery, and the '60s pop-inflected "I Wonder," which was written by Beer, Clampitt, Norwegian producer/songwriter Fred Ball (Rihanna, Jessie Reyez), and Lucy Healey (Chelsea Cutler, Delacey). Appearing soon after that song in the track list is the Turtles-sampling "Showed Me (How I Fell in Love with You)." For anyone who missed it in the meantime, she finally does deliver diva-styled pop with final kiss-off track "King of Everything" ("You're the king of nothing now"). Silence Between Songs became Beer's second straight album to debut in the U.K. Top 30 and the top half of the Billboard 200.© Marcy Donelson /TiVo

The sixth studio long-player from Netherlands-based symphonic rock outfit Within Temptation picks right up where 2011's generally well-received conceptual outing Unforgiving left off, expanding on the group's penchant for stylistic elasticity while maintaining a foundation of solid songwriting and engaging narrative. The appropriately named Hydra (the multi-headed monster of myth reflects the group's ability to juggle multiple musical genres) includes guest appearances from Killswitch Engage vocalist Howard Jones, rapper Xzibit, ex-Nightwish vocalist Tarja Turunen, and Soul Asylum vocalist Dave Pirner, and features the singles "Paradise (What About Us?)" and "Dangerous."© James Christopher Monger /TiVo

The most American of British rappers, 21 Savage is certainly among those who most successfully transmits sadness and the past through their voice. Seeming constantly forlorn, he nevertheless delivers intense albums, without exaggerated complexity, going from one track to another bluntly, without real transitions. So, in one block, he’s come out with american dream, which doesn’t break this rule. Always genuine, 21 Savage tells of his hectic, grief-stricken childhood, as he tends to do, but he also brings levity by inviting Doja Cat on the calm track “n.h.i.e.”, Summer Walker on the mesmerising “prove it”, and Burna Boy on “just like me”. This last track was unsurprisingly produced by Metro Boomin, who leaves his mark on american dream by anchoring it, despite some welcome tangents, in the sound of Atlanta. The first American rap blockbuster of 2024, this album is closed out by a superb side step towards R&B with “dark days”, in a duo with Mariah The Scientist that is overflowing with echoes of 90s guitars and with chants of “Even gangsters cry” as the closing words. © Brice Miclet/Qobuz

Ariana Grande took her first tentative steps into adulthood with My Everything, the 2014 album that tempered her retro-diva stance with modern R&B. Released two years later, Dangerous Woman consolidates this soulful shift while offering a snazzier, sophisticated spin on the '90s pop that provides the foundation of Grande's music. Much of the latter comes from a fruitful partnership with producer Max Martin and his colleague Ilya, a team responsible for over half of the standard album's tracks (they also have their hands in several of the deluxe edition's bonus cuts). Tommy Brown and Mr. Franks are the other chief collaborators here, shepherding many of the cuts with a heavier R&B influence -- the stuttering "Let Me Love You," featuring a verse from Lil Wayne, the slow-burning torch of "Leave Me Lonely" -- but their productions aren't far removed from the Martin/Ilya cuts. "Everyday," a heavy thrumming jam featuring Future, is helmed by Ilya alone and the Rihanna-copping "Side to Side" bears a Martin credit. What all the producers do is keep the focus on the individual track, carving it into a seamless sculpture of rhythm and melody where Grande winds up as the accent to the song. Restraint serves her well: there are times she lets go with a full-throated roar, but she spends most of Dangerous Woman at a simmer that reinforces the sultry seduction of the title. A fair chunk of the album is devoted to cinematic ballads, which makes the bright blasts of disco -- "Be Alright," "Greedy" -- so alluring, but the entire record benefits from this single-minded concentration. Track by track, Dangerous Woman has sly, subtle distinctions -- a little bit of torch gives way to some heavy hip-hop only to have frothy pop surface again -- and while some of these cuts work better than others, the range is impressive, as is Grande's measured, assured performance.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

On her debut studio album, 2010's Pink Friday, Nicki Minaj made it clear she could do it all. The bloodthirsty rap powers she'd displayed on her earlier mixtapes were so abundant she had to organize them as separate characters, but she also had no problem singing sugary hooks or following scandalous diss tracks with bouncy pop tunes designed for the charts. Thirteen years later, Minaj is still striking out in all directions on Pink Friday 2, a sequel to her breakthrough that sees her continuing to stretch her range, but it feels a little different coming from an established superstar than Pink Friday felt coming from a relative newcomer. First, there's the pop; several tracks reiterate a formula that's resulted in multiple hits for Minaj, that of building out on ubiquitous songs from the past. Her hypersexual rhymes on "Super Freaky Girl" are a tailored fit for the familiar groove of Rick James' "Super Freak" that the song is based on, while "Pink Friday Girls" leans heavily on Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" and "My Life" samples Blondie's biggest song, "Heart of Glass." The seething rap tracks happen mostly in the album's first act, with concise burners like "Barbie Dangerous" and "FTCU" leading to more nuanced production on the moody J. Cole-aided "Let Me Calm Down" and the infectious meanness of "Big Difference." Minaj imprints herself onto bumpy, island-tinged R&B on "Needle" (featuring Drake, naturally), boisterous club on "Everybody," deep trap on the Future duet "Nicki Hendrix," and banging dancehall on "Forward from Trini," with help from Jamaican artists Skillibeng and Skeng. The swings between genres are less jarring than when Minaj lets her guard down emotionally. The album begins on a surprisingly mournful note with "Are You Gone Already," a song that reframes Billie Eilish's vaporous "when the party's over" as a vulnerable expression of loss. The album's closing moments are similarly glum, with the slogging devotional track "Blessings" giving way to melancholic pop on the indie-flavored "Last Time I Saw You" and ending with the yearning sadness of "Just the Memories." The way Minaj moves between disparate genres and polar extremes of puffed-up flexing and grief makes Pink Friday 2 a disjointed ride. In one way, it harkens back to the scattershot energy of her mixtapes, trying on new styles and sounds like different outfits. For a star of Nicki Minaj's caliber, however, the roller-coaster approach makes the album feel inconsistent and sometimes even randomized, like some stretches of the 70-minute, 22-track playlist are just experiments being presented in the order in which they were conducted. While Minaj is still a masterful rapper, charismatic pop presence, and stunningly talented artist, Pink Friday 2 lacks the cohesion and self-editing that would make it a rightful follow-up to her 2010 mainstream arrival. As it stands, Pink Friday 2 is another collection of Nicki Minaj songs, most of them exhilarating and fun, but some forgettable or awkwardly placed.© Fred Thomas /TiVo

High school bands can last. Little Dragon proves this as they release their seventh album in twenty-five years. Perhaps the secret is stability, as the Swedish quartet have once again based themselves in their studio in their hometown of Gothenburg.Stability has also prevailed on the musical front, even if things didn’t always go to plan. The band originally wanted to embark on a triple album, with a romantic record, another of dance music and a third of mystical forest folk. They changed their minds when they recognised the unfeasible scale of the project, and toned it down to "an old-fashioned album", as Little Dragon's lead singer Yukimi Nagano puts it. The album showcases the full range of the Swedish combo's sound: it starts out with groovy R&B (notably Frisco and its irresistible 90's feel) before arriving on the decisive single Slugs of Love, which is more raw; a real find, with its infectiously energetic bass line. After that, there's a short, 80s inflected, tunnel between disco and electro-funk (Disco Dangerous, Stay), then a soul/funky turn (with the exceptional Kenneth) and a climax on Glow featuring Damon Albarn (who launched them into orbit in 2010 by inviting them on the Gorillaz album Plastic Beach). The Swedes and the Englishman combine on a synth ballad that's a little psychedelic and a little dark, before concluding on a pop-folky note. The result is an album with no mistakes and no downtime, and songs that stick in your head; stability pays off. © Smaël Bouaici/Qobuz