3 stars out of 5 - "...A tidy '50s showcase for the piano man's lyrical touch..." © TiVo

A duets collection of folk song covers could be pure novelty, but Rufus Wainwright infuses this recording with so much thought and care, it feels essential. Wainwright's song choices aren't precious. There are plenty of traditionals, including a jazzy version of the bluegrass standard "Cotton Eyed Joe" that finds him melting like butter next to Chaka Khan's heat. And Brandi Carlile brings incredible earthiness to the high harmonies of "Down in the Willow Garden," a gruesome Appalachian murder ballad ("I drew a saber through her/ It was an awful sight/ I threw her in the river/ Then ran off in fright") previously recorded by Flatt & Scruggs (as "Rose Connelly") and the Everly Brothers. But there's also a delightful take on "Twelve-Thirty (Young Girls Are Coming to the Canyon)," with Wainwright assembling his own version of the Mamas & the Papas—himself, Susanna Hoffs, Sheryl Crow, and Chris Stills (son of Stephen)—that captures all the charm and chamber-pop melancholy of the original (while making it clear that Hoffs and Crow should do more together). Stills and Andrew Bird contribute rich harmonies, as well as weepy violin from Bird, for Neil Young's "Harvest." Van Dyke Parks guests on accordion and spritely piano for his own "Black Gold," with Wainwright playfully leaping from note to note. And Wainwright even stages a theatrical reimagining of his own "Going to a Town." First released in 2007, the song is about giving up on the political division of America—written when gay marriage was being debated—and decamping to Berlin; it feels painfully relevant all over again in 2023, especially with trans artist Anohni silkily shadowing Wainwright. A warm and earthy John Legend joins in for a feather-light version of Peggy Seeger's "Heading for Home," while David Byrne shows up for Moondog's "High on a Rocky Ledge"; his and Wainwright's eccentricities are so different and yet so complementary. Make no mistake, Wainwright is the star of the show here, and does not shy away from the spotlight, with his inimitable vocal tone warming up each and every track. He even takes a couple of solo turns, including a cover of "Shenandoah," velvety with bell-piano, that showcase his remarkable ability to meld with the music: effortlessly alternating restraint, sustain, and full-throated power. And yes, he brings in his talented family, teaming with siblings Martha Wainwright and Lucy Wainwright Roche on a chilling version of the traditional lullaby "Hush Little Baby";  on "Wild Mountain Thyme" they’re joined by their aunt Anna McGarrigle and her daughter Lily Lanken, as well as Chaim Tannenbaum, a longtime musical collaborator of both of Wainwright's parents, Loudon Wainwright III and the late Kate McGarrigle. The harmonies are at once celestial, yet so human—vibrantly alive and warm with flesh and spirit. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

The maelstrom of hype surrounding self-modeled Hollywood pop star Lana Del Rey's 2012 breakthrough album, Born to Die, found critics, listeners, and pop culture aficionados divided about her detached, hyper-stylized approach to every aspect of her music and public persona. What managed to get overlooked by many was that Born to Die made such a polarizing impression because it actually offered something that didn't sound like anything else. Del Rey's sultry, overstated orchestral pop recast her as some sort of vaguely imagined chanteuse for a generation raised on Adderall and the Internet, with heavy doses of Twin Peaks atmosphere adding a creepy sheen to intentionally vapid (and undeniably catchy) radio hits. Follow-up album Ultraviolence shifts gears considerably, building a thick, slow-moving atmosphere with its languid songs and opulent arrangements. Gone are the big beats and glossy production that resulted in tracks like "Summertime Sadness." Instead, Ultraviolence begins with the protracted, rolling melancholia of "Cruel World," nearly seven minutes of what feels like a sad, reverb-drenched daydream. The song sets the stage for the rest of the album, which simmers with a haunted, yearning feeling but never boils over. Even the most pop-friendly moments here are steeped in patient, jazz-inflected moodiness, as with the sad-eyed longing of "Shades of Cool" or the unexpected tempo changes that connect the slinky verses of single "West Coast" to their syrupy, swaying choruses. Production from the Black Keys' Dan Auerbach might have something to do with the metered restraint that permeates the album, with songs like "Sad Girl" carrying some of the slow-burning touches of greasy blues-rock Auerbach is known for. A few puzzling moments break up the continuity of the album. The somewhat hooky elements of "Brooklyn Baby" can't quite rise above its disjointed song structure and cringeable lyrics that could be taken either as mockery of the hipster lifestyle or self-parody. "Money Power Glory" steps briefly out of the overall dreamscape of the album, sounding like a tossed-off outtake from the Born to Die sessions. Despite these mild missteps, Ultraviolence thrives for the most part in its density, meant clearly to be absorbed as an entire experience, with even its weaker pieces contributing to a mood that's consumptive, sexy, and as eerie as big-budget pop music gets. Del Rey's loudest detractors criticized her music as a hollow, cliché-ridden product designed by the music industry and lacking the type of substance that makes real pop stars pop. Ultraviolence asserts that as a songwriter, she has complete control of her craft, deciding on songs far less flashy or immediate but still uniquely captivating. As these songs shift her sound into more mature and nuanced places, it becomes clear that every deadpan affectation, lispy lyric, and overblown allusion to desperate living has been a knowing move in the creation of the strange, beguiling character -- and sonic experience -- we know as Lana Del Rey.© Fred Thomas /TiVo

Sinéad O'Connor's debut, The Lion and the Cobra, was a sensation upon its 1987 release, and it remains a distinctive record, finding a major talent striving to achieve her own voice. Like many debuts, it's entirely possible to hear her influences, from Peter Gabriel to Prince and contemporary rap, but what's striking about the record is how she synthesizes these into her own sound -- an eerie, expansive sound heavy on atmosphere and tortured passion. If the album occasionally sinks into its own atmospheric murk a little too often, she pulls everything back into focus with songs as bracing as the hard-rocking "Mandinka" or the sexy hip-hop of "I Want Your (Hands on Me)." Still, those ethereal soundscapes are every bit as enticing as the direct material, since "Troy," "Jackie," and "Jerusalem" are compelling because of their hushed, quiet intensity. It's not a perfect album, since it can succumb to uneven pacing, but it's a thoroughly impressive debut -- and it's all the more impressive when you realize she only topped it with its immediate successor, before losing all focus. © Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

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Turnpike Troubadours is one of those IYKYK acts, able to headline Red Rocks but rarely played on mainstream country radio. Often called one of the best groups in contemporary country music (though that's discounting their Red Dirt roots, incorporating folk, rock, bluegrass, Western swing and more), they are also a musicians' band able to attract a catholic list of openers including Dawes, Old 97's, the Avett Brothers, Steve Earle and Ray Wylie Hubbard. But four years ago, there was fear that the magic had disappeared after a high-profile demolition derby—including singer/guitaristEvan Felker temporarily leaving his wife for Miranda Lambert, plus show cancellations and a viral video of Felker seemingly so drunk he couldn't perform—that led to the band taking an open-ended hiatus. The break only reenergized them. Now sober, Felker sounds great, the band is tight, and the songwriting is sure and purposeful. Produced by Shooter Jennings, the Troubadours' sixth album is one of the most exciting of the year. It's also full of regrets and humility and a determination to make it right. Felker, an Americana poet, gets straight to the heart of the messy matter with "Chipping Mill," an apology to his wife, with whom he reunited and started a family. "Ran my heart through a chipping mill/ Sold my soul for rock 'n' roll … Drank my way through a hurricane/ Thinking about your wedding ring/ I done a lot of real dumb things/ But I always kept the best for you." "Mean Old Sun" is killer, all driving guitars and sorrowful fiddle from Kyle Nix, and Felker counting the "Empty promises I've given." Hank Early's steel guitar is like an empathetic echo on the easy-paced and declarative "The Rut," as Felker proclaims, "I don't miss the taste of liquor/ Or really anything about it/ But the temporary shelter." Felker adopts a sort of Billy Bragg delivery for "Brought Me," an excellent bit of winsome folk and Appalachian tent gospel. "Lucille" is stark and moody with a gorgeous chorus, and the title track—keening with eye-watering steel—has an Uncle Tupelo feel. "Three More Days" is lovely neotrad country. "East Side Love Song (Bottoms Up)" strides like a honky-tonk shuffle, while Cajun-swampy "Black Sky" features howling harmonica and fiddle plus creek-baptism chorus harmony. There's joy and redemption to be found in closer "Won't You GIve Me One More Chance," with its high-lonesome harmonica and The Last Waltz vibe. Fans can look forward to a moving singalong in concert: "Won't you give me one more chance/ To make it with you/ Forget about the bad/ I don't believe we're through." © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

This album (which has been included in Joe Henderson's complete, eight-CD Milestone Years box set) has quite a few classic moments. At that point in time, tenor saxophonist Henderson was a sideman with Herbie Hancock's Sextet, so Hancock was happy to perform as a sideman, doubling on piano and electric piano, with the all-star group, which also includes trumpeter Mike Lawrence, bassist Ron Carter and drummer Jack DeJohnette. Highlights are many and include the original version of "Black Narcissus," "Isotope," a lyrical rendition of "Lazy Afternoon," and the free-form "Foresight and Afterthought."© Scott Yanow /TiVo