Amidst the whirlwind that came in the wake of her 2021 Mercury Prize-winning debut Collapsed in Sunbeams, Arlo Parks took time off—from performing, social media and generally being in the public eye—for her mental health. The reward for that space is My Soft Machine, an album that Parks, 23, has said is about navigating life in her 20s, the "anxiety, the substance abuse of friends … the viscera of being in love for the first time, navigating PTSD and grief and self-sabotage and joy." And for all those stressful words that come before it, there is the sound of so much joy here. Jazz-rap drums and the slightest of an Asian riff bring sunniness to romantic "Impurities," about letting yourself be happy with someone else, even if you're not picture-perfect. "My chest is buzzing like a bluebird caged/ Love like Juliette Binoche/ You touch my leg to make sure I'm still there/ I radiate like a star, like a star, star, star … When you embrace all my impurities." Bouncy, dubbing "Blades" is the sound of summertime roller disco. "Dog Rose" is delightful late '90s breeziness that underscores how much Parks sounds like the Cardigans' Nina Persson (whose own sunny songs, including solo works and in A Camp, often contain a darker shadow). "Pegasus," featuring the ubiquitous Phoebe Bridgers, is dreamy and gauzy but with percussive spikes added to keep things from going too soft: "I span 'round and screamed, 'I feel elated when you hold me/ And you got shy and beamed, 'I think it's special that you told me,'" sings Parks, who has said the song is about both "experiencing the warmth and lightness of good love for the first time" and how the "presence of real connection can be a little bit terrifying after a long time of not having it." On the flipside, coolly skittering "Weightless" probes what it's like to be more into someone than they are into you—and finds a deeper, distorted voice shadowing Parks' own, like some interior pain slipping out. The title of "Devotion" echoes the copy of naturalist Mary Oliver's poetry collection Devotions that Parks discovered in the studio ("I don't know who left it. A gift from the universe," she told The Guardian) and which influenced her as much as the flora and fauna, the lightness, of her new home in Los Angeles. But there's a surprise there, too, as the song shifts from a languid shuffle, bass undertow tugging all the while, to a wall of big, crunchy, grunge guitars. "Purple Phase" kicks back and stretches out, all sultry bass and golden splashes of cymbal, as Parks promises, "I would find all and I'd give it to you" before a sudden burst of thunder threatens the mood. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

British chanteuse Ellie Goulding returns with her highly anticipated third studio album, 2015's expertly produced Delirium. Goulding's previous effort, 2012's Halcyon, was a hypnotically ambient, lightly experimental album that balanced catchy pop hooks with textural electronic soundscapes. While Delirium isn't devoid of this electronic atmosphere, it's somewhat more mainstream in its tone, and finds Goulding expanding her sonic palette with a melodically catchy set of more R&B-infused songs. Helping Goulding to achieve this are a handful of uber-pop producer/songwriters, including Sweden's Max Martin (Britney Spears, Taylor Swift) and Carl Falk (One Direction, Nicki Minaj), Savan Kotecha (Ariana Grande, One Direction), Greg Kurstin (Sia, P!nk), and others. Halcyon also benefited from a similarly collaborative approach, but Delirium feels less distinctly personal, bigger in scope, and brimming with a pressurized commercial energy. But that's not necessarily a bad thing. Whereas Halcyon may have required several listens to grow on you, Delirium grabs you with immediately hooky, danceable tracks like "Something in the Way You Move," "Keep on Dancin'," and "Don't Need Nobody." Some of the more R&B-leaning cuts like the Police-meets-Rihanna single "On My Mind" seem at first like an odd fit for Goulding's highly resonant, throaty chirp of a voice. That said, Goulding's voice has always fit well in the contemporary pop landscape and even when you get the sense that she's trying on someone else's sound, as in the CeeLo-esque "Around U" and the swoon-worthy "Codes" with its '90s Brandy-meets-M83 vibe, the sheer craftsmanship of the material alone keeps you listening. There are also enough passionately heartfelt EDM anthems, like the effusive "Army" and bubbly, Ibiza-ready "Devotion," to please longtime Goulding fans. Ultimately, it's the unexpectedly appealing combination of Goulding's distinctive voice and the melismatic R&B bent of the songs on Delirium that makes for such an ecstatic listen.© Matt Collar /TiVo

In between Violator and Songs of Faith and Devotion, a lot happened: Nirvana rewrote the ideas of what "alternative" was supposed to be, while Nine Inch Nails hit the airwaves as the most clearly Depeche-influenced new hit band around. In the meantime, the band went through some high-profile arguing as David Gahan turned into a long-haired, leather-clad rocker and pushed for a more guitar-oriented sound. Yet the odd thing about Songs of Faith and Devotion is that it sounds pretty much like a Depeche Mode album, only with some new sonic tricks courtesy of Alan Wilder and co-producer Flood. Perhaps even odder is the fact that it works incredibly well all the same. "I Feel You," opening with a screech of feedback, works its live drums well, but when the heavy synth bass kicks in with the wailing backing vocals, even most rockers might find it hard to compete. Martin Gore's lyrical bent, as per the title, ponders relationships through distinctly religious imagery; while the gambit is hardly new, on songs like the centerpiece "In Your Room," the combination of personal and spiritual love blends perfectly. Outside musicians appear for the first time, including female backing singers on a couple of tracks, most notably the gospel-flavored "Condemnation" and the uilleann pipes on "Judas," providing a lovely intro to the underrated song (later covered by Tricky). "Rush" is the biggest misstep, a too obvious sign that Nine Inch Nails was a recording-session favorite to unwind to. But with other numbers such as "Walking in My Shoes" and "The Mercy in You" to recommend it, Songs of Faith and Devotion continues the Depeche Mode winning streak.© Ned Raggett /TiVo

2020 was to be a big year for Rone. In March he had launched a series of prestigious concerts for his album Room With a View at the Théâtre du Châtelet in Paris, but these were soon cut short by Covid. Quarantined along with everyone else, the French producer decided to fight isolation by embarking on the first collaborative album of his career. This is a real producer's album, with the Rone touch, and a five-star cast. It probably owes a lot to the artists' empty schedules in 2020, but it also says a lot about Erwan Castex's growing reputation on the French scene. It is the rappers of Odezenne who open on Sot-l'y-laisse and its huge wall of apocalyptic sounds, followed by the English dance/pop phenomenon Georgia with Waves of Devotion, on which we hear Rone successfully leaving his comfort zone. Next, he offers the first track sung in French in Savages' singer Jehnny Beth's career, the aquatic electronic ballad Et le jour commence, on which she adopts accents reminiscent of Aznavour. A l'errance with Dominique A playing a cheery arpeggiator is not bad either. Camélia Jordana is bewitching on La Nuit venue and Melissa Lavaux brings a bit of grace with Closer. Rone's final touch is even classier, with the diva Roya Arab on Twenty 20, which sounds like a prayer for 2021.  © Smaël Bouaici/Qobuz

After two albums of generally finely crafted symphonic metal, Dutch ensemble Epica decided to indulge their orchestral kinks to the fullest with 2005's metal-free The Score: An Epic Journey, but they are back to their usual, genre-meshing stomping grounds with 2007's The Divine Conspiracy, which many fans will likely consider their proper third opus. Whatever the case may be, the album gets under way with the entirely symphonic "Indigo" prologue, before slamming into the metallic portion of the program with "The Obsessive Devotion." This, in typical Epica fashion, showcases not only the angelic soprano of Simone Simons, but also a manly baritone choir and ever more demonic death grunts from bandleader Mark Jansen -- all of them juggling lyrics in English and Latin! As with all of The Divine Conspiracy's -- and indeed Epica's -- best tracks (here including "Fools of Damnation" and "Sonata Terra"), the attraction ultimately hinges on exploring the sonic contrasts of light and dark; the punishing intensity of those elephantine guitar riffs and hyperactive drumming cast against the soaring, layered sweetness of the orchestrated strings and keyboards. Remove these contrasts and the fireworks they ignite, and largely uniform offerings like the ballads "Safeguard to Paradise" and "Chasing the Dragon" (overlong, featuring a brief black metal freak-out, and not about a great big lizard, believe it or not) simply leave one wanting more. Similarly, Epica still struggle to compete with hit-penning machines like Nightwish or Within Temptation when it comes to commercial singles with overpowering hooks (see the merely serviceable "Never Enough"). And just when you think Epica had escaped the shadow of the band that spawned them, After Forever, along comes the ambitious but uneven four-song suite titled "The Embrace That Smothers," which, actually originated in Jansen's former group (even though its first five installments appeared on Epica's debut). All that being said, give Epica credit for staying the course (winding as it may be) long enough to deliver the crowning achievement of their career thus far in The Divine Conspiracy's colossal, multi-faceted, 14-minute title track, which closes this LP. Now, if they can only maintain that stellar form for the duration of their next album, things could get really interesting. © Eduardo Rivadavia /TiVo

In between Violator and Songs of Faith and Devotion, a lot happened: Nirvana rewrote the ideas of what "alternative" was supposed to be, while Nine Inch Nails hit the airwaves as the most clearly Depeche-influenced new hit band around. In the meantime, the band went through some high-profile arguing as David Gahan turned into a long-haired, leather-clad rocker and pushed for a more guitar-oriented sound. Yet the odd thing about Songs of Faith and Devotion is that it sounds pretty much like a Depeche Mode album, only with some new sonic tricks courtesy of Alan Wilder and co-producer Flood. Perhaps even odder is the fact that it works incredibly well all the same. "I Feel You," opening with a screech of feedback, works its live drums well, but when the heavy synth bass kicks in with the wailing backing vocals, even most rockers might find it hard to compete. Martin Gore's lyrical bent, as per the title, ponders relationships through distinctly religious imagery; while the gambit is hardly new, on songs like the centerpiece "In Your Room," the combination of personal and spiritual love blends perfectly. Outside musicians appear for the first time, including female backing singers on a couple of tracks, most notably the gospel-flavored "Condemnation" and the uilleann pipes on "Judas," providing a lovely intro to the underrated song (later covered by Tricky). "Rush" is the biggest misstep, a too obvious sign that Nine Inch Nails was a recording-session favorite to unwind to. But with other numbers such as "Walking in My Shoes" and "The Mercy in You" to recommend it, Songs of Faith and Devotion continues the Depeche Mode winning streak.© Ned Raggett /TiVo

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After his high-profile duet with Guru on the first Jazzmatazz project, French rapper MC Solaar proved himself a major contender for international rap stardom with his U.S. debut. With the rapid-fire rhyme flow of Souls of Mischief and the smooth delivery of Q-Tip, the young MC conveys more moods in French than most rappers can in English. The extremely subtle grooves supplied by DJ/producer Jimmy Jay provide velvety smooth cushions that wrap around Solaar's warm voice tighter than O.J Simpson's glove, with jazzy, funky samples that prove perfectly suited for the fluid rhymes. One of the few bright spots in a year when the alternative rap scene was largely devoid of originality, MC Solaar came across as refreshing as a cool Parisian breeze.© Bret Love /TiVo

The title of pianist Tord Gustavsen's sixth offering for ECM is, like his compositions, elusive on the surface but imparting multiple shades of meaning. His first three albums with the label showcased a trio; his last three the expanded setting of a quartet. Gustavsen's pianism is distinct and was developed over time while backing vocalists. The subtlety and lyricism from that time are embedded in his compositional DNA. His music as a bandleader has moved ever outward from a still -- not static -- center. This was especially prevalent on the trio recordings, where an intentional emphasis of restraint was placed on timbre, texture, and space (and can be heard on the bookend trio pieces here, "Right There" and "The Prodigal Song"). Over the quartet albums, his work has embraced a wider palette of colors and dynamics with a considerably expanded harmonic field. With saxophonist Tore Brunborg, bassist Mats Eilertsen, and drummer Jarle Vespestad, Gustavsen pushes at the boundaries of the circle and expands its reach. The traditional Norwegian hymn, "Eg Veit I Himmerik Ei Borg," showcases elegant chord voicings balanced by a turbulent, rhythmic undercurrent led by Vespestad's simmering drums, and woody dynamic support from Eilertsen that adds tension and dynamic. Brunborg's solo moves to the edges, nearly free of melodic constraints as Gustavsen's changes become more percussive to accommodate him. "Staying There" is an excellent showcase for Brunborg on a nearly funky blues groove. "The Gift" finds his rumbling tenor utterance in the tune's head, deep, warm, and soulful above a spacious, circular piano vamp and a rhythm section whose playing alternates between procession and shuffle. "Devotion" features lovely arco playing from Eilertsen in a rubato tone poem; its melody is based on Christian sacred music. The elliptical group playing at its center is especially appealing and connected. "The Embrace" is a canny modern jazz meld of gospel themes and soul music. On the midtempo "Glow," Gustavsen's vulnerability shines through as Brunborg answers his lines with emotive assent and encouragement. On Extended Circle, the pianist's roots remain contemplative, but the maturity of the communication among these players provides a more fluid and physical sense of motion, revealing a multi-faceted approach to both playing his tunes and improvising.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

A hopelessly misunderstood record in its time by Santana fans -- they were still reeling from the radical direction shift toward jazz on Caravanserai and praying it was an aberration -- it was greeted by Santana devotees with hostility, contrasted with kindness from major-league critics like Robert Palmer. To hear this recording in the context of not only Carlos Santana's development as a guitarist, but as the logical extension of the music of John Coltrane and Miles Davis influencing rock musicians -- McLaughlin, of course, was a former Davis sideman -- this extension makes perfect sense in the post-Sonic Youth, post-rock era. With the exception of Coltrane's "Naima" and McLaughlin's "Meditation," this album consists of merely three extended guitar jams played on the spiritual ecstasy tip -- both men were devotees of guru Shri Chinmoy at the time. The assembled band included members of Santana's band and the Mahavishnu Orchestra in Michael Shrieve, Billy Cobham, Doug Rauch, Armando Peraza, Jan Hammer (playing drums!), and Don Alias. But it is the presence of the revolutionary jazz organist Larry Young -- a colleague of McLaughlin's in Tony Williams' Lifetime band -- that makes the entire project gel. He stands as the great communicator harmonically between the two very different guitarists whose ideas contrasted enough to complement one another in the context of Young's aggressive approach to keep the entire proceeding in the air. In the acknowledgement section of Coltrane's "A Love Supreme," which opens the album, Young creates a channel between Santana's riotous, transcendent, melodic runs and McLaughlin's rapid-fire machine-gun riffing. Young' double-handed striated chord voicings offered enough for both men to chew on, leaving free-ranging territory for percussive effects to drive the tracks from underneath. Check "Let Us Go Into the House of the Lord," which was musically inspired by Bobby Womack's "Breezing" and dynamically foreshadowed by Pharoah Sanders' read of it, or the insanely knotty yet intervallically transcendent "The Life Divine," for the manner in which Young's organ actually speaks both languages simultaneously. Young is the person who makes the room for the deep spirituality inherent in these sessions to be grasped for what it is: the interplay of two men who were not merely paying tribute to Coltrane, but trying to take his ideas about going beyond the realm of Western music to communicate with the language of the heart as it united with the cosmos. After three decades, Love Devotion Surrender still sounds completely radical and stunningly, movingly beautiful.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

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