Note to Clapton lovers: here comes the Super Deluxe edition of an expanded compilation of his best tracks, played at the Royal Albert Hall, in London, in 1990 and 1991. It was released in the form of a double LP of fifteen tracks at the time. London’s prestigious concert hall hosted 32 of his Slowhand concerts, 18 of which were performed in succession - breaking his own record - and with four different groups. This new box set of 47 titles, three-quarters of which were previously unreleased, is this time divided into three parts (the first edition was divided into four parts); “Rock”, “Blues”, and “Orchestral”. At the time, Clapton had been accompanied by some high-flying musicians. On the first record, we find Phil Collins on drums for covers of Bob Marley’s I Shot The Sheriff , and Bob Dylan’s Knockin' On Heaven's Door. On the second record, we find Buddy Guy, Robert Cray, and Jimmy - on guitar. Jimmy is the older brother of Stevie Ray Vaughan, who died in a helicopter crash in August 1990. More reserved, performed with the National Philharmonic Orchestra, and conducted by Michael Kamen, the third record offers 10-minute-long scintillating and highly-charged versions of Crossroads, by Robert Johnson, and Layla. Almost six hours of enjoyable listening. © Charlotte Saintoin/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

Turning away from the sweet pop of Out of Time, R.E.M. created a haunting, melancholy masterpiece with Automatic for the People. At its core, the album is a collection of folk songs about aging, death, and loss, but the music has a grand, epic sweep provided by layers of lush strings, interweaving acoustic instruments, and shimmering keyboards. Automatic for the People captures the group at a crossroads, as they moved from cult heroes to elder statesmen, and the album is a graceful transition into their new status. It is a reflective album, with frank discussions on mortality, but it is not a despairing record -- "Nightswimming," "Everybody Hurts," and "Sweetness Follows" have a comforting melancholy, while "Find the River" provides a positive sense of closure. R.E.M. have never been as emotionally direct as they are on Automatic for the People, nor have they ever created music quite as rich and timeless, and while the record is not an easy listen, it is the most rewarding record in their oeuvre.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

There’s a ‘before and after’ Out Of Time in the life of R.E.M. This ‘before’ for Michael Stipe’s band is mainly found on university campuses where the group gained a cult following in the ‘80s… How then did R.E.M. manage to sell 12 million copies of Out Of Time to the world? The answer is that this record was both sublime and austere. An uncompromising album, like the chamber rock such as Nirvana and the Pixies that you’d blast out without caring about pissing off the neighbours in that year of 1992… Always virtuosic, Peter Buck goes from the mandolin to the acoustic guitar with great ease, John Paul Johns from Led Zeppelin sublimely arranges refined chords and Michael Stipe shines with his melancholic and tortured prose with the candor of a man with self-assured belief. Cinemascope ballads prevail, peaking with Everybody Hurts. It must be said, Automatic For The People is not the most easy-flowing album by R.E.M. but it is one of the most beautiful. Released in 2017, this 25th anniversary edition also offers, alongside the remastered album, a live recording from the 40 Watt Club in Athens on the 19th November 1992 with some cover versions like Funtime by Iggy Pop and Love Is All Around by The Troggs. © MD/Qobuz

Best known as the leader of Dinosaur Jr., a trio addicted to monstrous levels of volume, J Mascis has another side to his musical character. Inside this apostle of ear-shredding noise lurks a sensitive indie rock balladeer, whose creaky, minor key voice—often compared to Neil Young—is the perfect accent to his opaque songs of loss and doubt.  Strip out the guitars of many Dino Jr. songs and it's clear that Mascis has always written multi-layered songs. Like What Do We Do Now's "It's True," where he's in a state—"I'm just lying here, lost in fear, it's rising/ It's not the worst, but how bad could it get?"—and reluctantly implores, "Let me find the way to go/ Let the cracks begin to show." The opener "Can't Believe We're Here" is nearly a pop single, or what his Byron Coley-penned bio calls a "full blown post core power ballad." Further along, "Right Behind You" is one of the most tuneful originals of his career. The worry ballad, "I Can't Find You," where Mascis broods, "Feeling so obscure/ Drifting through my head/ It's made me insecure/ I'm begging you instead," is the kind of sensitive indie rock wondering that his Dinosaur Jr. persona would have hidden under sonic intensity. Mascis's arranging has reached a new level of mastery; the mix of acoustic guitars, nearly-too-busy drumming, extended guitar solo and pleading voice on "Right Behind You" is nearly perfect. He ramps up his singing to a stronger and more confident height in the anthemic, pop-leaning title track. Mascis recorded this fifth solo album at his Western Massachusetts home studio; the detailed sound excels at sharply defined borders between instruments. He handles almost all the instruments except for piano, played by frequent collaborator Ken Mauri, and the pedal steel guitar, played by Matthew "Doc" Dunn. Willing to tone down the clamor as a solo act, J Mascis shows what was behind the volume all along. © Robert Baird/Qobuz

For two decades now, the Texas-reared and California-based sultry-voiced singer-songwriter Jolie Holland has perfected a folk/country hybrid with a distinctive singing style deeply rooted in blues and jazz. On her sixth studio album, she fearlessly encompasses even more genres and styles, but with a forceful ease and downright dreamy tempos. Guitars slither awake and bark distorted tones over percolating ambient tones. Fiddles and cellos drone from classical realms into Appalachian territory and back. It’s all collaged together with the clarity of a great soundtrack.Holland's always strong songwriting is helped in parts by Big Thief's Buck Meek, who adds his own verse to the title track. (And yes, that’s the same Meek who included a version of the song on his own 2023 album, which he named … Haunted Mountain.)  His contributions to "Highway 72" are such that you have to listen over and over again. The term "instant classic" has been used to death, but the song (which references one of Hank Williams' best) just seems to have been there forever. If only Deadwood was still filming, so that it could close out an episode.This release is no sell-out, by any means. It's Holland's most ambitious, clear-sounding, and overtly political recording to date. Its themes tackle what Naomi Klein has termed disaster capitalism, the onus of patriarchy, the legacy of colonialism, and the onset of fascism across the world. It's so strong and so real that one cannot imagine a world where such music might be released and not resonate with the larger world. Haunted Mountain matches its thematic cohesion with a slower tempo that's at times—as with the whistle-and-strum closer "What It's Worth"—downright somnambulant. This is very powerful stuff; don't drive at night or operate heavy machinery while under its influence. © Mike McGonigal/Qobuz

Let’s face it: Amon Amarth is divisive. Like Sabaton or Five Finger Death Punch, they’re one of those bands that enjoy undeniable popularity and success despite being met with derision by purists. Yet, on closer inspection, Amon Amarth’s death metal has never been a lesser form of the genre. At worst, you could say it has the finesse of a bull in a china shop, but it certainly doesn’t betray its cause. More than anything, it’s the band’s set design that might make its audience smirk: in the world of augmented reality, five proud Vikings in a papier-mâché longboat don’t impress crowds much. However, when it comes to their recorded material, the Stockholm band has absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, even less so with The Great Heathen Army. Produced by Andy Sneap (Accept, Exodus, Judas Priest…), this new collection of hymns praising the glory of Odin proves to be masterfully conceived, cleverly avoiding the sense of redundancy that could sometimes mar the experience of listening to an entire album by the band. The subject matter is much more varied here too: there’s the rocky rhythm of ‘Heidrun’, the devastating ‘Oden Owns You All’, and ‘Find a Way or Make One’, which sounds like it could go on to become a pillar of the band’s repertoire. Whether you’re a fan of the band or you’ve only recently discovered them, this album is for you. The highlight is, of course, ‘Saxons and Vikings’, which sees Amon Amarth cross swords with Saxon’s ‘godfathers’ Biff Byford, Doug Scarratt and Paul Quinn on a brilliant up-tempo track. The presence of these heavy metal legends is not the only treat in store either. Purists might claim ‘they were better before’, that their 1994 demo sounds more authentic than their first studio album, which sounds less commercial than their second etc, etc… the usual. The fact remains that Amon Amarth’s twelfth album does everything right, and it is anything but mundane. Those waiting for them to slip up might be waiting a long time; you’ll never crush a Viking’s spirit.  © Charlélie Arnaud/Qobuz

More than a quarter-century after Tom Petty's Wildflowers was first released, it can finally be heard the way the singer-songwriter intended. When he turned in 25 songs, hoping for a double album, Warner Bros. asked him to pare it down to one. But just three years past his death, his family and Heartbreakers bandmates Benmont Tench and Mike Campbell (technically a solo release, Wildflowers features most of the band) have restored the record to its original glory and added in a trove of home demos, alternate takes and live tracks—some 70 songs in all. Produced by Rick Rubin while Petty's decades-old marriage was crumbling and he was reportedly battling heroin addiction, the 1994 release remains one of the all-time great break-up records; heard all together, the extended LP (the All The Rest part is produced Petty's longtime engineer Ryan Ulyate) Petty is a deeper devastating beauty. "New" tracks like the Byrds-y "Leave Virginia Alone," tender "Something Could Happen" and psychedelic Beatles-meets-Wall of Sound "Somewhere Under Heaven" are a comfortable coda to classics such as "You Don't Know How It Feels" and "It's Good to Be King." Extra track "Hope You Never" is a gorgeous, direct complement to old favorite "Only a Broken Heart." As perfect as the original album has always played, it's hard to imagine not including the swaying After the Gold Rush-esque "Hung Up & Overdue" (with backing vocals by Beach Boy Carl Wilson) or sunny, jangling "California" (which also shows up in a demo version, with a telling extra verse: "Don’t forgive my past/ I forgive my enemy/ Don’t know if it lasts/ Gotta just wait and see"). Dig into the home recordings, and it's an even bigger mystery why the harmonica-inflected "There Goes Angela" and plaintive "There's a Break in the Rain (Have Love Will Travel)" weren't contenders over, say, the Celtic-flavored "Don't Fade on Me." Chalk part of that first-listen awe up to the intimacy of these solo demos, which also cast a new, revelatory light on the gently folksy title track and "You Don't Know How It Feels." Live non-album favorites "Girl on LSD" and "Drivin' Down to Georgia" are captured here, along with a blistering "Honey Bee" and lovely takes on "You Wreck Me" and "Crawling Back to You." Tench has recalled Petty calling Wildflowers "the best record we ever made." Now it's even better. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

With 25 years of experience and 12 albums under their belt since the release of the eponymous Korn in 1994, what can we expect from the famous band from Bakersfield in 2019? Rightly considered as pioneers of neo-Metal, Korn has experienced many ups and downs. Following a decade at the top of the charts, when their iconic guitarist Brian “Head” Welch left the group it became more experimental, dabbling in pop and dubstep (like The Path of Totality) which left many fans feeling a little bewildered. But Head’s return in 2013 undoubtedly gave the band a new lease of life as they returned to their more conventional style of music. And if the two albums that followed were a sign that they had returned to their high standards, The Nothing goes one step further. From the very first note of the bagpipes in The End Begins, it’s clear that Korn is well and truly back in the game. The album is dedicated to tradition as all the group’s characteristics can be heard throughout the album, (the scat in Cold that is reminiscent of Twist, the sound of the guitar in The Darkness is Revealing, the chorus of “disco” drums in Idiosyncrasy and so on). But The Nothing itself is not immune from trying new things and includes the track Finally Free which has hints of trip-hop as well as the particularly manic H@rd3r, which is a something a bit different altogether. And even if the band hasn’t reinvented itself in this particular album, their knack for riffs and catchy choruses, the manic performances by Jonathan Davis (and the very talented Ray Luzier on drums), combined with a solid production team and just the right amount of experimentation makes The Nothing the go-to album for this ‘third-generation’ Korn. There’s no doubt about it, Korn is still on top form! © Théo Roumier/Qobuz

On Black Radio 2, the Robert Glasper Experiment attempts the near impossible: create a sequel that delivers fully on the promise of its groundbreaking, Grammy-winning predecessor. Glasper's group -- bassist Derrick Hodge, Casey Benjamin on vocoder and synth, and drummer Mark Colenburg -- again enlists a stellar cast of vocalists. Instead of relying on covers, this set is almost entirely comprised of originals. There is an organic feel as well: there are no programmed loops on the record; everything was played live. Standout "I Stand Alone" juxtaposes hip-hop and pop as Common raps about growing up in Chicago, with a sung refrain by fellow Illinoisian Patrick Stump of Fall Out Boy. Michael Erik Dyson adds an inspiring spoken word outro. The set's first single, "Calls," features vocals by Jill Scott. It’s a dreamy, repetitive, nocturnal, neo-soul groover with Glasper's Rhodes and Benjamin's synths sparkling above the clipped rhythm. The RGE weds neo-soul to hip-hop to very fluid jazz on "Worries" with Dwele. The popping snare and toms are accented by Glasper's acoustic piano and a bumping, bubbling bassline from Hodge, as the vocalist alternately sings and raps. Anthony Hamilton offers an exquisite, deeply moving vocal on "Yet to Find," a tune that weds adult contemporary R&B to modern gospel seamlessly and convincingly. Faith Evans underscores the pop/R&B notion on "You Own Me," a track illustrated by Glasper's crystalline middle-register piano, Benjamin's winding, circular synth line, and Colenburg's ticking, in-the-pocket hi-hat. The set's most bracing cut is "Let It Ride." It was written by Glasper and Munsinah, and driven by Colenburg's dazzling breakbeat snare, which is so accurate it could be a loop. It's mixed far above the acoustic piano vamp, an atmospheric Rhodes, layered synths, and a sparse, seductive bassline. Norah Jones' slippery, slurry, vocal phrasing rises over the top, making the track an expansive, syncopated meld of dubstep, jazz, and pop. The set closer is a cover of Stevie Wonder's "Jesus Children." Introduced by the RGE in a nearly modal mélange of acoustic piano, electric bass, and skittering snare, vocalist Lalah Hathaway finds the melody and adds her signature utterance, which is equal parts gospel, old-school soul, and bluesy jazz. She trades verses with Malcolm Jamal Warner, who delivers a searing, spoken tribute to the victims of the Sandy Hook Elementary shooting, thereby exiting the set on a poignant note. Black Radio 2 is much more subtle than its predecessor. While it's true that it possesses fewer standout performances, it's wholly consistent, and on some level, it's braver for relying on original material to carry it. It requires more listening to appreciate fully. Taken as a whole, however, it serves and fulfills the role of a sequel: the album deepens the band's music-making aesthetic, and further establishes their sound not only as a signature, but even, perhaps, as its own genre.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

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The triumphant third LP from Seattle-born Kassa Overall sees the drummer/rapper/producer catapulted into the farthest reaches of his creativity, spiritedly showcasing his seemingly limitless capacity for experimentation, stylistic agility and technical prowess. Much like on his sophomore record, I Think I'm Good (2020), Overall avoids any pigeonholed interpretation of his art. "What does it sound like to you? ... I just want to make the dopest shit," he quips, as if to say, who cares? Why bother with these labels? He operates on his own terms, that's for sure.At face value, it is still jazz-hop's extension and brazen fusion which drives the musicality. These aspects are complemented in equal measure by Overall's deftness as an emcee, with internal mental health struggles and an array of wider social issues forming the thematic basis. A strong musical and lyrical voice interlinks all excursions through volatile musical and verbal terrains, elevating the work to lofty echelons of conceptual and performative sophistication—qualities which the Warp imprint is only too keen to sponsor. As ever, it is fortified by a rich catalogue of collaborators new and old, who feature in absorbing and unprecedented ways.Animals finds its footing with "Ready to Ball": a modal jazz/hip-hop workout, complete with masterful keys improv from Sullivan Fortner and ultra catchy, pitch-shifted vocal hooks ("It got a shine to it/ I could get it if I put my mind to it"). Hip-hop styles continue into "Clock Ticking," which sees crunchy MPC percussion, choppy piano licks and an eerie likeness between Danny Brown's tone of voice, and that of namesake Bootie Brown (The Pharcyde) circa Bizarre Ride II era—that ain't passin' no one by. Ever the fusionist, Overall even sneaks in a few impromptu borrowings from jazz-adjacent, South American styles: quasi-bossa nova guitar flavours in "The Lava Is Calm" and the futurist tango of "So Happy." The album reaches the zenith of its maximalism in the dubby ensemble production "Still Ain't Find Me," a 1:46 whirlwind crammed full of jolty metric shifts, fizzing electronics and sprawling saxophone lines courtesy of Tomoki Sanders. To top it all off, the closer ("Going Up") is a real gem, with a wistful Francis and The Lights crooning confessions to lost loves over an emotionally charged instrumental. It's a perfect conclusion to what must surely be his most accomplished effort yet. Overall—a master stroke. © Finn Kverndal/Qobuz