Recorded between 1968 and 1972, The Rolling Stone’s Beggars Banquet is a real rock’n’roll feast. One of the biggest feasts in history no doubt! Right from the first few shamanic bars of Sympathy For The Devil, it’s evident that Mick Jagger and Keith Richards were trying to summon demons with their wickedly raw music. Blues, violence, rhythm'n'blues, sex, country, African music, revolt, soul, drugs and lust – there’s nothing missing from this electric frenzy. With its satanic prose, the album is carried by haunted guitars and minimalist rhythms. Here, the blue note either sweats buckets (Parachute Woman) or appears completely stripped down (Prodigal Son and Factory Girl). Rock had never been so poisonous and fascinating (Street Fighting Man). Richards releases bursts of demented guitar riffs while Jagger sings with unprecedented power and sincerity. The Stones would continue to build on this momentum with three other masterpieces: Let It Bleed, Sticky Fingers and Exile On Main Street. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

Deutsche Grammophon presents expanded new editions of The Blue Notebooks by Max Richter, which are released in celebration of its 15th anniversary. Originally written in 2003 and remarkably recorded in just three hours, The Blue Notebooks was released in 2004 to minimal fanfare. Since then the world has caught up, with the album steadily growing from cult classic, to trend-setting influencer, to cannon-defining masterpiece that’s paved the way for a generation of successful young composers. New features include brand new artwork, a previously unreleased track and new arrangements of compositions written at the same time as the album. © Deutsche Grammophon

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

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Before getting into music, American Kara Jackson got her start in the world of poetry. To write poetry is (more or less) to make one’s unique voice heard, to distance oneself from commonplace thought and expression, to arrange words so that they sound like they never have before. Kara Jackson does all of this with music as well. At its essence, it’s modern folk music, with a good old acoustic guitar, a lot of singing, and arrangements that are developed according to the song. Yet it’s in the details where Kara Jackson is rather unique.First of all, she has this dark, velvety voice, heavy, that melts over the melodies like syrup. She’s not a diva, sometimes singing only ever so slightly, closer to slam poetry or spoken word. But she always puts her soul into it, so then upon closer listen, with headphones, her songs reveal fascinating details that drive you crazy, or at least get you hooked. Layered vocals, country guitars, choirs that come out of nowhere…you might think of a cross between Roberta Flack (for the singing, the free-spirited soul, and the tempo of the songs) and Sparklehorse (for the fragility of the post-psych pop structures). Or you might think of nothing at all, captivated and carried away by this singer who is like none other. © Stéphane Deschamps/Qobuz

Recorded between 1968 and 1972, The Rolling Stone’s Beggars Banquet is a real rock’n’roll feast. One of the biggest feasts in history no doubt! Right from the first few shamanic bars of Sympathy For The Devil, it’s evident that Mick Jagger and Keith Richards were trying to summon demons with their wickedly raw music. Blues, violence, rhythm'n'blues, sex, country, African music, revolt, soul, drugs and lust – there’s nothing missing from this electric frenzy. With its satanic prose, the album is carried by haunted guitars and minimalist rhythms. Here, the blue note either sweats buckets (Parachute Woman) or appears completely stripped down (Prodigal Son and Factory Girl). Rock had never been so poisonous and fascinating (Street Fighting Man). Richards releases bursts of demented guitar riffs while Jagger sings with unprecedented power and sincerity. The Stones would continue to build on this momentum with three other masterpieces: Let It Bleed, Sticky Fingers and Exile On Main Street. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

Problems with the Mushroom label delayed the release of Magazine, which eventually went platinum and peaked at number 17 on the album charts. Only the hard-rocking "Heartless" made it into the Top 40, and the album didn't really live up to Heart's last few efforts. 1976's Dreamboat Annie showed stronger songwriting, while Little Queen had a lot more bite to it. Magazine lacks in energy and, to a much greater extent, fluency. The songs sound careless and scrambled together, and while some of the blame can be placed on the label controversy, it's apparent that the Wilsons seem unconcerned, for the most part. "Here Song," "Just the Wine," and the predictable "Without You" all have weak seams in both the writing and the articulateness of the tracks as a whole. 1978's Dog & Butterfly shows more interest and rock & roll vitality than its predecessor, making Magazine an album even the band likes to forget about.© Mike DeGagne /TiVo

The debut effort by Eric Burdon and War was an erratic effort that hinted at more potential than it actually delivered. Three of the five tunes are meandering blues-jazz-psychedelic jams, two of which, "Tobacco Road" and "Blues for Memphis Slim," chug along for nearly 15 minutes. These showcase the then-unknown War's funky fusion, and Burdon's still-impressive vocals, but suffer from a lack of focus and substance. "Spill the Wine," on the other hand, is inarguably the greatest moment of the Burdon-fronted lineup. Not only was this goofy funk, shaggy-dog story one of the most truly inspired off-the-wall hit singles of all time, it was War's first smash -- and Eric Burdon's last. The odd closing track, a short piece of avant-garde sentimentality called "You're No Stranger," was deleted from re-releases of this album for years.© Richie Unterberger /TiVo

Randy Crawford's and Joe Sample's musical paths have been intertwined for 36 years; they began with his keyboard work on her debut album Everything Must Change in 1976. She returned the favor a couple of years later with her vocal on the Crusaders' 1978 smash "Street Life." The pair have worked together intermittently since then, but only formally recorded as a dual entity on 2007's Feeling Good, a collection of (mostly) jazz tunes and standards. They followed it with No Regrets in 2008, a collection of blues, soul, and pop tunes. Both albums were highly regarded critically. Sample's piano was aided by drummer Steve Gadd and bassist Christian McBride. Live was recorded on various European stages between October and December of 2008, immediately prior to and just after the release of No Regrets. Gadd is present here, but it is Sample's son Nicklas in the upright bass chair. The impeccably recorded program is drawn from both albums and then some. Beginning with an in-the-pocket read of "Everyday I Have the Blues," and continuing with standards from the jazz, blues, and soul books, the set is well-sequenced and feels very much like a seamless live date. There's an excellent, jazzed-up reading of "Street Life" surprisingly enough, and a shimmering take on Tony Joe White's "Rainy Night in Georgia" (that features Sample quoting from the Crusaders' "Hard Times" in his vamps and fills. There's also moving a version of Clyde Otis' "This Bitter Earth" (first recorded by Dinah Washington in 1960). The tunes that reflect the depth of Crawford's and Sample's musical relationship best, however, are in her "Almaz," and Sample's "One Day I'll Fly Away." On the former, Crawford's vocal is haunting, spare, intimate; it is underscored by Sample's elegant playing with its restrained harmonics and Spanish tinge. The latter tune was more risky. Given that the song was a hit for Crawford and is her best-known tune, the bubbling bassline and lush strings are parts of its signature. Stripping all that back for this piano-trio setting meant letting the tune's simple melody be the sole anchor for its smoldering emotion. Crawford deliberately understates it. Sample responds by filling the spaces with poetic economy and a new version emerges that is every bit as resonant. While Live is a further inscription in the collaborative book authored by Crawford and Sample, it is more, too: a classy, soulful example of inspired musicmaking.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

DJs like Gilles Petersen have been hip to the seven-piece wonder band Demon Fuzz for years, and as of the 21st century -- now that everybody's put away their James Brown records for sampling -- other club jocks are getting into the act of sampling this incredibly rare LP. Afreaka! was the only release by Demon Fuzz. Released in 1970, Afreaka! is a wild mash of Afro-Latin funk, breakbeats, tripped-out soul, jazz fusion, and psychedelic journeying. These seven black musicians took on everything that was happening, and were musicians enough to make it work for them. Most tracks run in the eight- and nine-minute range and get down with tough drums at the core, with rhythmic shifts happening on a grooved dime. Killer horns, Hammond B-3s, electric guitars, and deep tough slinky funky bass all wind together to create a mix so utterly intoxicating and fluid that it's difficult to take in one listen -- check out the Eastern mode sax solo on "Another Country" or the stomp-and-slide greasiness of "Past Present and Future." There's also a fine extended voodoolicious psych-soul cover of Ray Harris' R&B classic "Mercy" (subtitled "Variation No. 1"). This is the real deal -- solid, freaky-deaky, and groove-centric. Not to be missed.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

Barclay James Harvest had streamlined their sound considerably after leaving the Harvest label, culminating (so many felt) in the mellifluous music of Gone to Earth. Their pretensions to progressive rock all but abandoned, BJH here invites comparison to contemporaries like Supertramp, REO Speedwagon, and Fleetwood Mac (some of whom were similarly tagged with the prog rock label early on). Even at their most ornate, songwriters John Lees and Les Holroyd were simple balladeers at heart, and the decision to unclutter their arrangements allows the material's intrinsic beauty to shine through with clarity. For this reason, Gone to Earth is regarded by many as the band's best album, and judged on a song-by-song basis, it's hard to argue against it. Lees' "Hymn" and "Poor Man's Moody Blues" swell from simple beginnings to majestic heights, while Holroyd provides a cache of catchy rock songs, incorporating Beach Boys' harmonies on "Spirit of the Water" and "Taking Me Higher," soaring with the Eagles on "Friend of Mine," and even dabbling in reggae on the popular "Hard Hearted Woman." Again, the album's lone orchestral moment comes from Woolly Wolstenholme, the transcendent "Sea of Tranquility." (The keyboardist, whose once-omnipresent Mellotron now played a diminished role in the band's sound, left after the subsequent tour, releasing the first of several solo albums in 1980.) Although the songs are almost uniformly light on their feet, the lyrics reveal some heavy thoughts: Lees' "Lepers Song" laments "The end of the line's where I'm at/'Cos there's nothing left to be," and "Spirit of the Water" deals with killing seals for coats. Fortunately, it's not the uneasy alliance you might expect. Rarely has the band sounded so comfortable in the studio, and the result is as lovely a record as they've made.© Dave Connolly /TiVo

The songs on Fin de Siècle, though pleasant, don't quite scale the heights Neil Hannon has before: nothing is as arresting as A Short Album About Love's "In Pursuit of Happiness," though "Commuter Love," the grandiose, wind-swept "The Certainty of Chance," and especially the rainy-day funeral song "Life on Earth" make attempts, as does the song that jumps out at you the most, in line with Hannon's past work, "Sweden." Its '60s-movie oom-pah pomp and bombast that introduces each verse is fabulous. But otherwise, Hannon's done better. More unfortunate, Jon Jacobs' engineering seems fine, but his mix is convoluted, muted, as if Hannon's wry voice and the various lugubrious blends of sounds Jobi Talbot scores -- of woodwinds, brass, strings, guitar, and timpani-like drums -- were all trapped in a sandwich bag, fighting to get out where ears are. Where such mellifluous tones should tickle, tease, dazzle, and sometimes outright startle, outside of those yelping parts of "Sweden," it's all a little muffled. Still, it's hard to stop laughing at Hannon's suit-wearing, minor send-up of the storied English gentleman, like a man who is a playboy jet-setter but also affects uptight, fastidious manners. And there's still much to swing on here. Talbot is a fabulously imaginative arranger -- surely the LP's biggest saving grace -- and Hannon's songs thus seem to spiral toward dramatic conclusion no matter what. Best of all, Fin de Siècle largely diminishes the Scott Walker whispers that have shadowed his every move, if not actually erasing them. In the end, Hannon is the one you want at your party, sitting at an end table, smoking, drinking your most expensive booze, slyly winking at the ladies, and sizing up the crowd like an international spy. Give the man his due, style is his middle name. You can bet he's got unbelievable chat-up lines. © Jack Rabid /TiVo

Once again, director Ridley Scott has employed composer Hans Zimmer to score a motion picture, following their collaboration on Gladiator (2000) and Hannibal (2001). From ancient Rome to the world of a serial killer, Scott's settings vary considerably, and Black Hawk Down presents yet another musical challenge, set in Mogadishu, Somalia, during a failed mission by UN peacekeeping (i.e., U.S. military) personnel in 1993. Zimmer has done his homework on traditional North African music as it meets the late 20th century; his work combines identifiably Middle Eastern strains with elements of techno. The key to the approach is the use of vocalists Baaba Maal ("Hunger," "Still") and Rachid Taha (Taha's own co-composition "Barra Barra"). Although the music is quite aggressive early on, the later tracks reflect the mission's troubles. Denez Prigent and Lisa Gerrard's "Gortoz a Ran -- J'Attends" is distinctly elegiac, and the symphonic "Leave No Man Behind" toward the end makes it clear that, even if men haven't been left behind, they haven't necessarily been brought back alive. This sadness is given its final expression in a new recording of the traditional song "Minstrel Boy" by Joe Strummer and the Mescaleros (an earlier version is on their 2001 album Global a Go-Go) that plays over the credits. Zimmer used an unusual method to play this score, putting together the BHD Band, consisting of himself on keyboards, guitarists Michael Brook and Heitor Pereira, and string players Craig Eastman and Martin Tillman, and in effect jamming on much of the music, with orchestral scoring added later. He has achieved a style that works well for the downbeat, if suspenseful, tone of the film and its exotic setting.© TiVo

Randy Crawford and Joe Sample go back a long way; Crawford was featured on the Crusaders' 1979 hit "Street Life," a gem that held up pleasingly well 30 years later. And even though Crawford has generally been more of an R&B singer than a jazz singer, she is certainly quite capable of singing jazz -- which is what she does to a large degree on No Regret, a session Crawford co-leads with pianist Sample. It would be inaccurate to say that this 2009 release, which Sample produced with Tommy LiPuma, is the work of jazz purists. The musical recipe is jazz meets soul meets the blues -- in other words, soul-jazz -- and Crawford and Sample (who are joined by bassist Christian McBride and drummer Steve Gadd) enjoy a strong rapport on material that ranges from Memphis Slim's "Every Day I Have the Blues" and Clyde Otis' "This Bitter Earth" to the Staple Singers' "Respect Yourself" and Mel & Tim's "Starting All Over Again." There are some interesting surprises on No Regret; Crawford and Sample also tackle Sarah McLachlan's "Angel" with memorable results, and they even find the soul-jazz possibilities in Charles Dumont's Edith Piaf-associated "Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien." That French classic, which was a major hit for Piaf in 1960, has a lot of history attached to it; it is considered Piaf's anthem (much like "My Way" was for Frank Sinatra), it has been adopted as an anthem by the French Foreign Legion -- and of course, it's a great song to crank when you want to give the middle finger to all the racist, wacky neo-cons who have an obsessive and downright irrational hatred of France (evidently, neo-cons forget where the Statue of Liberty came from). But Crawford doesn't try to emulate Piaf; she embraces an English-language version, and a song that came out of French pop works surprisingly well in a soul-jazz setting. No Regret is a consistently rewarding follow-up to Crawford and Sample's previous collaboration Feeling Good. © Alex Henderson /TiVo

Sweden’s Kristian Matsson, aka the Tallest Man on Earth, keeps it sparse with a summertime EP of fingerpicked acoustic guitar and vocals, written on the road just after the release of The Wild Hunt. Comparisons to a young Bob Dylan are common, and in a rustic, intimate setting such as this, the similarities are hard to ignore. Sometimes the Blues Is Just a Passing Bird, Matsson's quietest EP, demonstrates just how powerful a man can be alone with a guitar and a voice. “Little River” and “Thrown at Me” find him at his most near and dear, further validating that there is no need for added frills when someone can perform this tender-heartedly. For a change of pace, there's "The Dreamer," where Matsson trades in his acoustic for an electric, plugged into a reverby amp, without ever breaking from his austere style. © Jason Lymangrover /TiVo