There are words that inevitably come to mind with a new Foo Fighters record: pummeling, shredded, heavy. But the band's 11th album, But Here We Are, also bears the weight of grief. The release date marks just over a year since the shocking death of the band's seminal drummer Taylor Hawkins while on tour. "Someone said I'll never see your face again/ Part of me just can't believe it's true/ Pictures of us sharing songs and cigarettes/ This is how I'll always picture you," leader Dave Grohl (who, no surprise, also handles drumming duty this time around) sings on "Under You," a glorious power-pop blast of anguish—the best kind of tribute to a musician who was unparalleled in his explosive joy. But there's more confusion than sentimentality on the album, which teams the band once again with producer Greg Kurstin and is dedicated to both Hawkins and Grohl's mother, who also died in 2022. "I've been hearing voices, none of them are you," Grohl sings on the slinky, mysterious "Hearing Voices," boasting a killer bass line from Nate Mendel. "Where are you now?/ Who'll show me how," he wonders on "Show Me How," moody in the vein of Mendel's old band Sunny Day Real Estate and featuring duet vocals by Grohl's teenage daughter Violet. "I'll take care of everything from now on," he resolves by the end. And then there is "The Teacher," an ambitious 10-minute toss-and-turn dream. "Who's at the door now?/ Wake up," Grohl sings, his drums pounding like someone at the door with bad news as he howls "wake up" over and over. There is excellently mercurial guitar work by Chris Shiflett and a haunted break—"You showed me how to grieve/ Will you show me how to say goodbye?"—before the whole thing breaks down into static. Kicking in with fury and working its way to a headbanging, heart-pumping build, opener "Rescued" is an instant classic along the lines of "Everlong" or "The Pretender." The band delves into power ballads with "The Glass" and  "Beyond Me." And "Nothing at All" is an intriguing surprise, the verses adorned with rocksteady two-tone guitar blasts and slippery-smooth bass before it all turns into raw screamo, its chorus a hair-pulling tantrum: "Everything or nothing at all!" It all ends with "Rest," a stripped-down heartbreaker about putting a loved one to rest: "Laying in your favorite clothes/ Chosen just for you," Grohl sings, sounding so vulnerable without the usual flash and squall. It's almost impossible to imagine how they'll get through playing these songs live, but with the release comes relief. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

If you’d told David Gahan and Martin Gore a year before the release of this latest album (which was still in the making at that time) that its title would be somewhat foreboding, the pair would likely have agreed, but for a rather different reason. Memento Mori roughly translates to ‘remember you’re going to die’—that’s what was on Gahan’s mind having just entered his sixties, whilst also remembering his stepfather, the man who raised and cared for him, who had died at just 61. But fate would prove both twisted and cruel when, without warning, it would take the life of Andy Fletcher on 26th May 2022. Depeche Mode’s third man was just 60 years old.However, this sudden death was not what primarily guided the somber, melancholic content of the record. Most of it was composed during the pandemic, which must have forced the band to ask themselves countless questions about their existence, their future and how these doubts would be manifested within their music (though Fletcher’s death would inevitably alter their approach to these same compositions). This all gives rise to a record which, whilst rejecting any semblance of ‘joie-de-vivre’, is a real return to more gothic, vintage and organic sounds. The album’s quasi-industrial opener, ‘My Cosmos is Mine’, sets the tone for the darker journey to come. The album takes a more stripped-back approach to the melodies, where Gahan’s sobering voice steers clear of all excess.In the midst of this darkness, the emphasis on synthesized sounds from a seemingly bygone era strikes a nostalgic chord without losing its edge (‘Wagging Tongue’, ‘Never Let Me Go’). These textures are accompanied by more saturated tones, taking us right back to their flirtations with rock in the 90s (‘My Favourite Stranger’). Memento Mori sounds like a kind of condensed version of the band’s more delicate songs without becoming a simple reconstruction of them. It has a subtle beauty which surely highlights the expertise of the musicians behind it, despite being somewhat overshadowed by the erratic nature of their discography over the last twenty years. Light filters through the cracks here and there on this album however, like the song ‘People are Good’, reminiscent of the classic ‘People are People’ released almost forty years ago. Remember that you’re meant to enjoy it… © Chief Brody/Qobuz

Moving from punk to symphonic music, even if it takes thirty years, isn’t something just anyone can do. Especially if, along the way, you zig-zag between techno, house, rock, ambient and even punk revival (with the album Animal Rights in 1997).  In 2021, Moby is still twisting and turning to avoid any and all labels that people might try to stick on him. The man who has become the image of the stereotypical "bedroom producer" is once again taking the world by storm with this collaborative album of covers featuring the likes of Gregory Porter, Jim James of My Morning Jacket, Mark Lanegan, Víkingur Ólafsson and the Budapest Art Orchestra. What's more, this album is being released with the most prestigious of classical music labels: Deutsche Grammophon.  It all started in 2018, when Venezuelan conductor Gustavo Dudamel took Moby to see the Los Angeles Philharmonic. This concert took him back to his childhood days, when he was raised on classical music. It reminded him of the ability that orchestras have of expressing nuance, depth, and emotions in much greater detail than a pop song can. And we have to pay tribute to the talent of the Budapest Art Orchestra, which successfully reframes Moby's radio hits. Natural Blues takes on an unsuspected breadth, thanks to the ensemble's backing vocals and Gregory Porter's soulful voice. Jim James' contribution renders Porcelain more poignant than ever.On Go, the Hungarian string section does most of the work, lending the song an even more epic quality. For the soaring, serene rendition of Heroes, a tribute to his personal hero David Bowie, Moby invites his favourite singing partner, Mindy Jones, with whom he has worked on Everything Was Beautiful, and Nothing Hurt and Innocent.  The Lonely Night also deserves special mention. The deep and comforting timbre of Kris Kristofferson’s voice makes this a perfect song for evenings by the fireside. It is just one more stylistic innovation in an album that's stuffed full of them. Despite the star-studded cast and the emotional richness of the material, this track sees Moby enjoying the simple things. © Smaël Bouaici/Qobuz

The second in a series of catalog re-recordings and revisions, Red [Taylor's Version] finds Taylor Swift revisiting her self-styled pop breakthrough Red. Released nine years after the original album, Red [Taylor's Version] does bear a few signs of maturation, notably on the explicitly pop moments, such as "I Knew You Were Trouble," "22," and "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together," which seem ever so slightly muted when compared to the 2012 versions. Nevertheless, much of the point of the re-recordings is to get these new versions as close to the original versions as possible so they can be easily licensed and to that end, Swift succeeds admirably. The more interesting part of Red [Taylor's Version] arrives in the second half when Swift records songs left in the vault, including "Better Man" -- a song she gave to Little Big Town, who won a Grammy for Best Country/Duo Group Performance in 2018 for their recording -- and duets with Phoebe Bridgers ("Nothing New"), Chris Stapleton ("I Bet You Think About Me"), and Ed Sheeran ("Run"). The highlight of these is a ten-minute version of "All Too Well," a bitter ballad that was already one of the peaks of Red and is now turned into an epic kiss-off. This, along with excavated songs, are reason enough for Swift to revisit Red and they, not the re-recordings, are the reason to return to Red [Taylor's Version].© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Joshua Redman makes his Blue Note debut with his nuanced 2023 travelog where are we. Along with being his first studio album for the storied jazz label (and his 16th overall), where are we is also his first primarily vocal-oriented production, featuring singer Gabrielle Cavassa. Also joining him is pianist Aaron Parks, bassist Joe Sanders, and drummer Brian Blade. Vocally, the California-born/New Orleans-based Cavassa has a warm sound that bridges the gap between the relaxed style of alt pop artists like Billie Eilish with jazz and R&B luminaries like Billie Holiday and Phyllis Hyman. She fits nicely alongside Redman, whose own burnished tone has always evinced a vocal-like quality. There's a sense throughout the album that Redman is pulling songs from an array of influences. Most emblematic of this broad palette is "Chicago Blues," a heady cross-stitch of Count Basie's "Goin' to Chicago" and indie singer/songwriter Sufjan Stevens' "Chicago" that also features Chicago-bred vibraphonist Joel Ross. Redman returns to the hometown concept throughout the album, bringing along several special guests who each play a song associated with the place they grew up. Crescent City-born trumpeter Nicholas Payton jumps on board for a boldly reharmonized take on "Do You Know What It Means," while guitarist Kurt Rosenwinkel sprinkles his fusion-influenced lines on a convincingly reworked rendition of Bruce Springsteen's "Streets of Philadelphia." We also get New York guitarist Peter Bernstein for an urbane and swinging take on the Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart standard "Manhattan." Elsewhere, Cavassa settles into warm readings of "By the Time I Get to Phoenix," "That's New England," and "Stars Fell on Alabama," all of which bring to mind the relaxed, '50s jazz of singers like June Christy, albeit with a modern creative jazz and classical-inflected artfulness that longtime Redman fans will be familiar with.© Matt Collar /TiVo

Geopolitics, uprisings and ominous warnings for the future are nothing new for Muse. But what a ripe time it is for a record that is the rock and roll equivalent of doom-scrolling. (If you're anxiety prone, you might want to move on.) The title track sounds so much like Marilyn Manson's "The Beautiful People" you'll do a double take—and it's not a great time to ape Manson—but also mixes in high-camp glam rock in satirizing the January 6, 2021, US Capitol riots: "Welcome to the desecration, baby/ We'll build you right up and we'll tear you down/ Welcome to the celebration, baby/ The chances are turning, this future is ours." It's grotesque and catchy as hell. Synth-heavy "Compliance" likewise seems like a parody recruitment anthem for the QAnon crowd: "Come join our clique, we'll keep you safe from harm/ Our toy soldier, you'll do the dirty work." Frontman Matt Bellamy recently predicted to NME that the "End is coming …You're talking about an economic collapse, shift and reinvention, total energy transition. That's really what we're dealing with here: a disruptive transition." So why not write the soundtrack, right? There's sincerity in the Freddie Mercury-esque (think: operatic backing vocals and Broadway-worthy power chords) "Liberation," with its focus on how Black Lives Matter inspired a movement to reinvent the present and future. On the glowing "Verona"—as in the hometown of Romeo and Juliet—Bellamy's falsetto reaches for the rafters as he sings about romance at the height of the COVID era: "We're running away/ Take off your clothes and take off your mask/ It's not over now, I won't leave you in the dark/ Because I need you so/ Can we kiss, contagion on our lips." "You Make Me Feel Like It's Halloween," meanwhile, employs fright-show organ, '80s Cheez Whiz synth and a heavy-handed vocal filter to, according to Bellamy, portray pandemic lockdown domestic violence as a real-life horror movie. Fuzz-heavy "Won't Stand Down" evolves into a nü-metal like bridge, "Euphoria" lives up to its name with Eurovision grandiloquence, and "Kill or Be Killed" finds Bellamy doing his best Thom Yorke against a backdrop of battering-ram guitars. The band shifts the bombastic dynamics on "Ghosts (How Can I Move On)," a fluttering piano ballad about being haunted by regrets after losing someone. But in the end, they're ready to remind you that "We Are Fucking Fucked"—a nervous and claustrophobic number that should be subtitled "The Californian's Lament": "We're at death's door, another world war/ Wildfires and earthquakes I foresaw/ A life in crisis, a deadly virus/ Tsunamis of hate are gonna find us." © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

"Mosquitoes can enjoy me/ I can't go inside," Mitski sings—lulls—on "Buffalo Replaced," a bottom-heavy grunge ballad from her seventh album that finds the singer revealing a nagging self-vexation. "I have a hope/ Though she's blind with no name/ She shits where she's supposed to feed herself when I'm away/ Sometimes I think it would be easier without her." Like Tori Amos, Kate Bush, or Frank Ocean, Mitski has a tendency to reveal so much wildness via a calming presence. Not that the weight isn't heavy; back in 2019, she announced her "last show indefinitely," later admitting that she was worn down by physical and mental exhaustion caused by the music business and its "super-saturated version of consumerism," but also the demands of representation. She has criticized always having her Asian American heritage pointed out; "It's like racism masked in progressive thought … I'm a symbol." Last year she told the BBC: "I needed to step away to get out of that mechanism and just learn how to be human again, I think." That break led Mitski to what she calls "my most American album … This land, which already feels inhospitable to so many of its inhabitants, is about to feel hopelessly torn and tossed again—at times, devoid of love. This album offers the anodyne." Drawing from influences including Ennio Morricone's high-drama spaghetti western scores and Carter Burwell's "tundra-filling Fargo soundtrack," The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We finds Mitski pairing her sometimes dark thoughts with music and sounds—an orchestra arranged and conducted by Drew Erickson, and a 17-voice choir—that convey turmoil. On "When Memories Snow," both piano and Mitski's vocals determine a marching pace while she presents a haunting internal scenario:  "When memories snow/ And cover up the driveway/ I shovel all those memories ... and when memories melt/ I hear them in the drainpipe/ Dripping through the downspout/ As I lie awake in the dark." Then the orchestral tension builds and explodes, horns and strings and choral voices elbowing each other for space. Opener "Bug Like an Angel" starts off like an acoustic campfire nod-along as Mitski sings, "As I got older, I learned I'm a drinker/ Sometimes a drink feels like family"—then, out of nowhere, a full-throated, big as Broadway choir trills "family!" She remains on even keel for "The Deal" as the music swirls like an atmospheric weather system, finally picking up to tornado strength, grabbing everything in its path and tossing it. It's not all chaos, though, as the anodyne settles in. Countrified "Heaven" is light with strings and Cowboy Junkies-esque. "My Love All Mine" is swoony romance, rich and full. And "Star" twinkles and explodes into a supernova, as Mitski convinces that lost love is never completely lost. At the end, "I Love Me After You," there is majesty—big buzz, crashing cymbals—as she performs a self-care routine (hydration, toner, brushing her hair) only to proclaim, "I love me after you/ King of all the land." © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Could Feist, the Canadian singer, have read Marcel Aymé? Nothing could be less certain, and yet the concept of this sixth album by the Canadian singer has false airs of Les Sabines, one of the most famous short stories by the Montmartre author, published in 1943. Sabine “could, at will, multiply herself and exist simultaneously, in both body and mind, in as many places as she pleased.” In the aptly named Multitudes, Feist realises Marcel Aymé's fantasy, by displaying vocal layering in some of the album’s songs, in particular in Become The Earth. This original concept is also applied in the project visuals (see the Hiding Out In The Open clip). It was during concerts performed after the Covid pandemic that the artist wrote the Multitudes songs, a recording characterised by a wide gap between minimalist folk ballads (Forever Before, Love Who We Are Meant To) and more powerful and exalted tracks like Borrow Trouble. The themes of the songs revolve around a struggle for the search for truth. According to Feist, by digging into the past we can begin to find answers, undoubtedly illustrating why certain pieces have an ancestral flavour: David Ralicke’s traditional flute in Martyr Moves, the questions posed to her ancestors in Calling All The Gods (in which she quotes Homer's Odyssey). Produced by Mocky and Robbie Lackritz, Multitudes is, ultimately, a vocal feat: whether alone facing the microphone or in multiple layers, Feist's timbre has lost none of its original charm, even six years after his previous opus, Pleasure. © Nicolas Magenham/Qobuz  

Simon & Garfunkel's second album, Sounds of Silence, was recorded 18 months after their debut long-player, Wednesday Morning, 3 AM -- but even though the two albums shared one song (actually, one-and-a-half songs) in common, the sound here seemed a million miles away from the gentle harmonizing and unassuming acoustic accompaniment on the first record. In between, there had been a minor earthquake in the pop/rock world called "folk-rock," which resulted in the transformation of their acoustic rendition of "The Sound of Silence" into a classic of the new genre, complete with jangling electric guitars and an amplified beat that helped carry it to the top of the charts. The duo hastily re-formed, Paul Simon returning from an extended stay in England with a large song bag (part of which he had already committed to vinyl, on his U.K. album The Paul Simon Songbook). Simon & Garfunkel rushed into the studio in the fall of 1965 to come up with a folk-rock album in a hurry: fortunately, they'd already recorded two sides, "Somewhere They Can't Find Me" (actually, Simon's rewrite of their first album‘s title track) and "We've Got a Groovey Thing Goin'," both featuring a band accompaniment. Davy Graham's bluesy "Anji," a rare instrumental outing by Simon, filled another slot, and "Richard Cory" filled another. The latter, Simon's adaptation of poet Edwin Arlington Robinson‘s work, was a sincere effort at relevance -- Richard Cory has every material thing a man could want but still takes his own life, a hint at one aspect of middle-class teenaged angst of the mid-'60s; high school English teachers were still using it to motivate students in the '70s. Though a rushed effort, this was a far stronger album than their debut, mostly thanks to Simon's compositions; indeed, in one fell swoop, the world learned not only of the existence of a superb song-poet in Paul Simon, but, in Simon's harmonizing with Art Garfunkel, the finest singing duo since the Everly Brothers. But it also had flaws, some of which only became fully apparent as their audience matured: the snide, youthful sensibilities of "I Am a Rock" and "Blessed" haven't aged well. And the musical concessions, on those tracks and "Richard Cory," to folk-rock amplification have also worn poorly; even in 1966, the electric guitars, piano, organ, and drums, sounded awkward in context with the duo's singing, like something grafted on, though in fairness, those sounds did sell the album. The parts that work best, "Kathy's Song" and "April Come She Will," two of the most personal songs in Simon's output, were similar to the stripped-down originals Simon had cut solo in England, and among the most affecting (as opposed to affected) folk-style records of their era; similarly, Simon's rendition of the folk-blues instrumental "Anji" is close to composer Davy Graham's original, just recorded hotter, while "Leaves That Are Green" is pleasantly if unobtrusively ornamented with electric harpsichord, rhythm guitar, and bass.© Bruce Eder /TiVo

The only true Purcell opera – the others considered to be semi-operas, a format closer to musical theatre – Dido & Aeneas is a masterpiece that offers such musical density that the piece was destined to radically influence the tastes of English society, which quickly embraced the arrival of entirely sung operas. The work was created in London in 1896, in a version that was surely more complete than the one that we possess today, according to the libretto by Nahum Tate which mentions a prologue of music that has since been lost. Taking on the myth of The Aeneid, the opera is a loose adaptation of Book IV of the work by Virgil. The British ensemble La Nuova Musica – whose recording of Couperin’s “Tenebrae Readings for Holy Wednesday” on harmonia mundi we so admired in 2016 – offers us a luminous and balanced version of the work, accompanied by a cast of top-notch soloists, Fleur Barron and Matthew Brook being first in line. A record released by PentaTone, this sneak preview is presented exclusively by Qobuz for download until September 21, 2023. © Pierre Lamy/Qobuz