The follow-up to 2022's excellent, Grammy-winning album Crooked Tree, Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway's latest continues the youthful, feminine-but-not-girly bluegrass thread woven by Alison Krauss and Sara Watkin; it would be wrong to call Tuttle's femininity incidental. It's fascinating to hear a woman's point of view about the butch and burly California gold rush, as on "El Dorado." "I'm Gold Rush Kate from the Golden State/ With a nugget around my neck/ I keep the red lights burning bright/ from here to Hell and back," she sings against fleet banjo, clear-as-a-bell dobro and her own spirited guitar; it's true-blue mountain music recast for dusty goldfields. Tuttle also celebrates her home state on "San Joaquin," a spritely number about riding the rails out west written with Old Crow Medicine Show's Ketch Secor, a frequent collaborator on City of Gold. Loose and meandering in a comfortable way, "Yosemite" is inspired by Tuttle's true story of taking a cross-country road trip with her partner and breaking up along the way: "When all that remains is the gas in the tank/ The tread on the tires/ What's left in the bank," she sings alongside duet partner Dave Matthews. There's what Tuttle calls "a love song about death" (ballad "When My Race Is Run") about wanting a romance so big it carries over to the afterlife and one about falling in love with yourself: the Jerry Jeff Walker-esque "The First Time I Fell in Love," which finds Tuttle delivering a quick tongue-twister ("topsy-turvy wild and whirly in a hurry full of worry roller coaster ride"). "Next Rodeo'' is a cowgirl romp, "Down Home Dispensary"—a plea to Tennessee legislators to legalize marijuana—turns on the boogie-woogie charm, and "More Like a River" flirts with a gentle jug-band melody. Stomper "Alice in the Bluegrass" reorients Alice in Wonderland in a backwoods country setting. Erie, swampy-sounding "Stranger Things" showcases band member Bronwyn Keith-Hynes' keening fiddle alongside hummingbird dobro by bluegrass legend Jerry Douglas, who also produced the record. And it's a bracingly cold creekwater shock to hear Tuttle spin the gothic tale of "Goodbye Mary," a ballad about a man encouraging his girl to cause a miscarriage she doesn't want. It all leads to her death which, viewed through a modern lens and told by a woman, feels like a frightening survey of a post-Dobbs world. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

On Paramore's first album in five years, singer Hayley Williams is worn out by the world—but weariness has never sounded more appealing. Opener "This Is Why" serves up disco-diva vocals and liquid-gold Chic-style bass for a tune about paranoia ("This is why I don't leave the house/ You said the coast is clear/ But you won't catch me out") and the encroaching dangers of social media. "If you have an opinion/ maybe you should shove it … might be best to keep it to yourself," sings Williams, who stepped away from Instagram a while back with the intention of  "looking up and out, rather than down." The suck of screen time—and how modern-day doom scrolling both brings us together as a community but also causes dissociation—is also the theme of "The News:" "So far from the faultline … I'm safe inside/ But I worry and I give money/ And I feel useless behind this computer," she sings, while the percussion skitters. Deliciously, it would've fit right in on the band's 2007 classic Riot! But they've learned a lot since that album, including how a velvet hammer is just as effective as nonstop thunderous bludgeoning. Songs like "Figure 8" and angular "You First" (featuring the great line "I'm both the killer and the final girl") mix emo hallmarks and more subtle, even lush dynamics. "Running Out of Time"—with its lament of there never being enough time to do everything you want or feel obligated to do—finds Williams trying on silky, Lisa Stansfield-style vocals on the verses and pure agitation elsewhere, against funky guitar and drum splashes. She also gets playfully experimental with "C'est Comme Ça," a punky track that finds the singer trying on an affect that is a little bit goth and a little bit Rockwell á la "Somebody's Watching Me:" "In a single year, I've aged one hundred/ My social life, a chiropractic appointment/ Sit still long enough to listen to yourself/ Or maybe just long enough for you to atrophy to hell." (That said, the singer has admitted that "I'm trying to get un-addicted to a survival narrative.") There's a floaty ballad ("Liar"), tense post-punk guitars contrasted with disco-ball dreaminess ("Big Man, Little Dignity") and a plush Cocteau Twins moment ("Crave"). Uneasy listening at its best. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

What is immediately striking when listening to this new record (her fifth on the ECM label, and the second at the head of this quartet after they already released the very fine Lost Ships in 2020) by Elina Duni, the Swiss singer of Albanian origin, is the deep aesthetic coherence of a collective discourse brought to maturity. Immersed in the precious setting of this extraordinary organic arrangement, featuring Rob Luft on guitar, Matthieu Michel on flugelhorn, and Fred Thomas on percussion and piano, Elina Duni’s voice is deep, sensual, and constantly expressive, yet lacking the slightest trace of affected sentimental mannerisms. Like a hyper-sensitive instrument, we are treated to a repertoire as eclectic as it is masterfully balanced, which pulls at the very essence of music and emotion. Progressing with ease from traditional Albanian and Kosovar tunes to a carefully selected selection of American songs (the Broadway standard I'll Be Seeing You, Stephen Sondheim's ballad Send In The Clowns, and the magnificent Charlie Haden theme, First Song ), while simultaneously using her natural talent to remain resolutely committed to the composition of original pieces that she co-authored with Rob Luft, Elina passes effortlessly from one language to another, allowing herself to be carried by the poetry of sophisticated and dreamlike arrangements that ride the edge of folk, jazz, and pop. A real work of art. © Stéphane Ollivier/Qobuz

Produced by Rick Rubin, Johnny Cash’s legendary American recordings are not only among his major musical statements, but also its moving final will. Released in November 2002, American IV – The Man Comes Around is the last volume of the collection that was released while Cash was still alive (He passed away 10 months after its release). Using the famous “cover” recipe, Johnny Cash managed in this record to turn other musicians’ compositions, sometimes recent work, into his own unique style. Nine Inch Nails, Depeche Mode, and Sting are all covered, and when listening to Cash’s rendition of their songs it is sometimes difficult to recall their original versions. As usual, Rubin’s work on the soundboard is devoted to Johnny Cash’s voice. Caught it its last whispers, the voice is haunting, yet never morose.Indeed, the voice is key in “American IV”.  The material can bring chills (the video clip of Hurt is deeply moving and, after listening to the track, Trent Reznor proclaimed “It’s like I have lost my girlfriend. This song doesn’t belong to me anymore…”), Give My Love To Rose evokes a sadness that is a strike at the heart, and I Hung My Head expresses an innocence that is profoundly tender. Even when he deals with the classic repertoire of country music, many that he recorded in the past (Sam Hall, Give My Love To Rose, I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry, Streets of Laredo, Danny Boy) the Man in Black brings to his interpretation the sorrow and sensitivity of his dying condition, always with grace and dignity. A sad yet festive funeral, the record includes many featured guest artists: Fiona Apple and Nick Cave sing, John Frusciante of the Red Hot Chili Peppers and Marty Stuart strum their guitars, old partner Cowboy Jack Clement pulls out his dobro, Joey Waronker abandons Beck and Air to join in the rhythm section, and Benmont Tench brings in an array of keyboards including an organ, harmonium, Mellotron, vibraphone and even a Wurlitzer. Music lovers from all over the world recognized what a masterpiece American IV – The Man Comes Around had been created, and its reception led it to be a gold record, which was Johnny Cash’s first in thirty years. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

West Coast rapper ScHoolboy Q's sixth album, Blue Lips, is unrelentingly daring, branching out in multiple stylistic directions but kept cohesive and strong throughout by Q's personality and artistic drive. He effortlessly moves through relaxed, loop-based hip-hop and nostalgic flows on "Cooties," directly into soul-jazz atmospherics on the Freddie Gibbs duet "oHio," and then unexpectedly brings in drum'n'bass breaks on the Ab-Soul-assisted "Foux." In addition to masterfully transitioning between production modes and genre experiments (the horror movie trap of "Back n Love," featuring Devin Malik, is born of an entirely different world than the golden-age funk strings and Jozzy-sung hook of "Lost Times," the song that comes immediately after it), Q tackles heavy lyrical content throughout the album, reflecting on the pitfalls of fame, the fallout of a childhood spent in a fractured family, and navigating depression and loss even while at the top of his game as a rap star. ScHoolboy Q flexes just how easy his craft is for him throughout Blue Lips, switching his styles without blinking while telling some of his most difficult truths.© TiVo Staff /TiVo

T-Bone Burnett is blunt: "Rhiannon is the next in a long line of singers that includes Marian Anderson, Odetta, Mahalia Jackson and Rosetta Tharpe." After hearing Tomorrow Is My Turn, her 2015 debut solo album that revisited such wonders as Elizabeth Cotten, Dolly Parton, Hank Cochran and even Aznavour, the famous producer's opinion sounded obvious. The journey into the timeless Americana of folk, jazz, gospel, blues, soul and country continues for the former member of the Carolina Chocolate Drops with Freedom Highway, the title of which is that taken from a civil rights anthem composed by the Staple Singers for the famous Selma marches in Montgomery, Alabama in March 1965. This album is much less rooted in the past than it seems, at a time when America is living through some of its most turbulent moments. With her truly stunning voice, Rhiannon Giddens stirs up the ghosts of slavery and the civil rights struggle, and makes them more modern and alive than ever. Even when she sings Joan Baez's Birmingham Sunday, you could swear you're hearing a tune from 2017! Rhiannon Giddens' strength is that she never does taxidermy. Superbly produced and interpreted, this album is not merely a sepia coloured memory to decorate the conscience and the mind. No, this is a strong and magnificent record that perpetuates a musical, spiritual and ideological tradition that can never die, especially when it is interpreted in this way. © MZ/Qobuz

In 1992, British indie label Imaginary put together Brittle Days, a Nick Drake tribute album featuring a wonderfully diverse slate of acts ranging from Shelleyan Orphan and the High Llamas to Loop and Nikki Sudden. While this was a full eight years before an ad agency placed "Pink Moon" in a Volkswagen Cabrio commercial and made Drake one of the most well-known "undiscovered" artists around, it was right in the middle of a then-current craze for tribute albums that alternative acts used to make explicit their roster of influences. And among indie and alternative artists of that late '80s/early '90s era, Nick Drake was a widely shared touchstone, thanks to the 1986 Fruit Tree box set that packaged up the entirety of his recorded output at an affordable price. So it wasn't terribly surprising that Brittle Days was one of a few Drake tributes that would emerge over the next few years. As his legacy has become more required reading rather than sui generis discovery, it's been a while since another truly inspiring collection of Drake covers has been released. Endless Coloured Ways ends that drought in an exceptional manner. Spearheaded by the Drake estate, this sprawling collection features 23 of Drake's songs reimagined by a wildly broad selection of artists, from likely candidates such as David Gray, Skullcrusher, Ben Harper, and Feist to more surprising appearances from the likes of Craig Armstrong, Liz Phair, and Emeli Sandé. The lineup is even more rewarding than it would appear at first, kaleidoscopic sight: Instead of getting all these unique voices to bend their musical style in homage to Drake's sound, the approach is refreshingly catholic, resulting in two albums' worth of Nick Drake songs that sound nothing like Nick Drake. While the original spirit of the tunes is largely respected—no death metal "Parasite"—and the lyrics and melodies are intact, each artist delivers their own unique arrangements, sonic predilections, and particular weirdnesses to the proceedings. To be sure, there are a few artists who just kinda sound like a '70s singer-songwriter (looking at you Ben Harper), but for the most part, things are much more adventurous and unexpected, as this album unfolds across its "four seasons" of material. Whether it's Fontaines D.C.'s epic, ripping sonics on "Cello Song," the sensitive glitch-folk of Radiohead's Philip Selway doing "Fly," or Norwegian electropop artist Aurora turning "Pink Moon" into atmospheric synth futurism, the material here often veers far away from Drake's sonic approach. Instead, it manages to stay tightly connected to the original's aesthetic truth, a true hallmark of a successful tribute album. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

Billy Joel teamed with Phil Ramone, a famed engineer who had just scored his first producing hits with Art Garfunkel's Breakaway and Paul Simon's Still Crazy After All These Years for The Stranger, his follow-up to Turnstiles. Joel still favored big, sweeping melodies, but Ramone convinced him to streamline his arrangements and clean up the production. The results aren't necessarily revelatory, since he covered so much ground on Turnstiles, but the commercialism of The Stranger is a bit of a surprise. None of his ballads have been as sweet or slick as "Just the Way You Are"; he never had created a rocker as bouncy or infectious as "Only the Good Die Young"; and the glossy production of "She's Always a Woman" disguises its latent misogynist streak. Joel balanced such radio-ready material with a series of New York vignettes, seemingly inspired by Springsteen's working-class fables and clearly intended to be the artistic centerpieces of the album. They do provide The Stranger with the feel of a concept album, yet there is no true thematic connection between the pieces, and his lyrics are often vague or mean-spirited. His lyrical shortcomings are overshadowed by his musical strengths. Even if his melodies sound more Broadway than Beatles -- the epic suite "Scenes From an Italian Restaurant" feels like a show-stopping closer -- there's no denying that the melodies of each song on The Stranger are memorable, so much so that they strengthen the weaker portions of the album. Joel rarely wrote a set of songs better than those on The Stranger, nor did he often deliver an album as consistently listenable.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

The storied reggae artist (and heir to the throne as Bob Marley's second son) Stephen Marley takes a new turn on his fifth solo album Old Soul. After years as a supporting player and behind-the-scenes producer, Marley emerged with solo work in the late 2000s as a powerful hybrid of roots reggae and modernized hip-hop, sometimes speckled with moments of dancehall fun for good measure. Born from nightly acoustic jams at the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, Old Soul is considerably mellower, matching soft sentiments on love, family, and the circle of life with spare arrangements that float out of the speakers like a gentle breeze. Tunes like the autobiographical title track and the lover's rock-influenced "Standing in Love" (which features a cameo from Slightly Stoopid's Kyle McDonald) keep the percussion and electric instruments to a minimum, making acoustic guitar melodies and sweet vocal harmonies the main focus. Buju Banton contributes to the perky ska number "Thanks We Get (Do Fi Dem)" and there's a reggae foundation to the brooding "Cast the First Stone" (aided by brother Damian Marley), but even these tracks are lighter readings of traditional reggae and reggae-adjacent sounds. Elsewhere, Marley curiously explores whatever style he feels, drifting through jazz standards like "Georgia on My Mind" and "These Foolish Things (Remind Me of You)" and covering the Beatles' "Don't Let Me Down" before inviting Eric Clapton to join in on lead guitar as they revisit a cover of Marley's father's 1973 hit "I Shot the Sheriff." The lazy ramble of "Winding Roads" closes Old Soul out, sounding more like a folksy, amber-hued jam band tune than anything reggae related. Assistance from the Grateful Dead's Bob Weir and the perpetually affable Jack Johnson enhance the song's laid-back essence, and it's a lovely way to let the thoughtful, even-keeled album naturally decompress. Marley maintains a relaxed energy and a light touch throughout Old Soul, but the songs are built well enough that they feel refreshing and never sleepy. It's a pendulum swing from some of his more intense moments, but the strong material shows his depth as an artist, regardless of the muse he's pursuing.© Fred Thomas /TiVo

Still on the Dead Oceans label, Khruangbin releases Mordechai, which is set to become one of the flagship albums of 2020. Khruangbin (pronounced "Kroongbin", which means "plane" in Thai and which they chose simply by saying “why does it matter, nobody’s going to care”) is a wig-wearing Texan trio with Laura Lee on vocals and bass, the central element of their music. The two other members, Mark Speer and Donald Johnson, met in Houston in a Methodist church where the former played guitar while the latter played the organ. A fascination for the Middle East led them to Laura and after a tour where Speer and Lee opened for Bonobo, the three decided to jam in a barn in Burton, a small town of 300. There, the insatiable diggers recorded the extraordinary album The Universe Smile Upon You, which drew on 60s Thai funk with long psychedelic instrumentals, then Con Todo El Mondo with its Caribbean sounds and Middle Eastern harmonies. On closer inspection, their name seems appropriate, as Khruangbin flies from one place to another at a confounding speed. For the third album, the trio goes full throttle. Less hypnotic than the first, less eclectic than the second but still as deep in sound research. Mordechai gives pride of place to its singer whose muffled voice reverberates over the ten tracks. From the Spanish Pelota and its rumba scents and the pop-funk of Time (You And I) to the jazz-dub of One to Remember, from Africa to Korea via Pakistan. It would be futile to label the musical richness of the opus. Sculpted by bass, nourished by sounds from all over the world, the atmosphere reigns supreme; primordial and always soaring. Mordechai is, for Khruangbin, “a celebration of Houston, the eclectic city that had nurtured us, and a cultural nexus where you can check out country and zydeco, trap rap, or avant-garde opera on any given night.” © Charlotte Saintoin/Qobuz

Paramore take a boldly inventive approach to the remix album on 2023's Re: This Is Why. A companion album to their Billboard 200 number two-charting seventh studio album, This Is Why, Re: This Is Why features all of the songs from the original, either remixed in the classic sense or re-recorded and reworked by other artists. This is the band's first album of the remix kind and nicely straddles the line between the dance traditions from which remix culture was born and the pop covers trend that emerged with the rise of social-media platforms. In this spirit, Paramore picked bands and artists who influenced them, or who were in turn influenced by them, or who they simply really like. Of the former group, British indie rock outfit Foals take on the title track, remixing the flagship single into a atmospheric club anthem that brings out even more of the '60s-style psychedelia at the core of the song. Yet more dance-oriented is DJ Zane Lowe's remix of "Running Out of Time." Lowe is a longtime supporter of the band, having interviewed them in-depth several times, and his spiraling, '80s-house-infused remix feels particularly celebratory. Of the re-recorded tracks, we get a fittingly post-punk version of "C’est Comme Ça" from England's Wet Leg that evokes their own "Chaise Longue." Equally inspired is Claud's intimately rendered acoustic take on the ballad "Crave" that brings out all of the song's yearning qualities. Also included is a previously unreleased demo of "Sanity," a song Paramore recorded during the This Is Why sessions but left off the album. That track, as with much of Re: This Is Why, is as artfully hooky and emotionally compelling as anything on the original album.© Matt Collar /TiVo

Not too much has changed since we last left blink-182. You might hear the same snap, crackle, and pop that the trio has prided themselves on for almost ten years. There's even the continual cabbage-patch screech of Tom Delonge and support for rampant teen angst. But five albums later, these San Diego natives grab their rosy-cheek punkadelics and add a bit more of a flamboyant, passionate maturation on Take Off Your Pants and Jacket. When Enema of the State leaped onto the charts in 1999, the lyrical direction was 90 percent party-boy mentality, leaving little room for traces of a growth spurt. And while we're still feeling the continual back-drip of tracks from Enema, the fresh plethora of tunes from these rambunctious Toys-R-Us rockers have more purpose than ever. With a fight-for-your-right joviality that's often irresistible, songs like "Anthem Part 2" and "Stay Together for the Kids" house a indomitable school-kid voice where a surging vapor of knockout speed chords meet wrecking-ball percussion. The meanings are bucketed and spilled, with lines like "If we're f*cked up/You're to blame" ("Anthem Part 2"). And forget about escaping lyrics such as, "I'll never talk to you again/Unless your dad 'ill suck me off," which stems from the hilarious, almost brilliant 42-second clash called "Happy Holidays, You Bastard." "First Date" and "Roller Coaster" are only a couple of their tunes that act as therapy for post-pubescent dilemma, also present on previous efforts like Enema and Dude Ranch. Each song about the rotten girlfriend or unhip parent speaks loud and often to the 2000 MTV generation. Nevertheless, the dumped-in-the-amusement-park tone and lyrical progression are sharp, if not entertaining. The band's stint on the Vans Warped Tour, with veteran punksters such as Pennywise and Rancid, has become a supreme outlet for blink-182. Take Off Your Pants is one of their finest works to date, with almost every track sporting a commanding articulation and new-school punk sounds. They've definitely put a big-time notch in the win column.© Darren Ratner /TiVo