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

My Neighbour Totoro, Princess Mononoke, Spirited Away - people wonder at the magic of Studio Ghibli films far beyond their native Japan, within which the director Hayao Miyazaki recounts his stories in anime guise. But what would these films be without their soundtracks? Just like with Steven Spielberg and John Williams, Miyazaki has forged a unique artistic bond with the Japanese composer Joe Hisaishi that has lasted almost 40 years, with the latter’s compositions being instrumental in the films’ successes. Now we can discover his greatest Studio Ghibli hits re-recorded with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra - a first-class Deutsche Grammophon debut.In 1983, the two artists made their first collaboration for the anime film Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, for which Hisaishi would create “image music” (i.e. music that reflects the character and characters of the film or series). Miyazaki was so convinced by the music that, since the founding of Studio Ghibli in 1985, he was to underscore each of his films with Hisaishi’s compositions - to our eternal good fortune, because the pieces such as the waltz "Merry-Go-Round of Life" (from Howl’s Moving Castle), "A Town with an Ocean View" (from Kiki’s Delivery Service) or the touching "One Summer’s Day (The Name of Life)" (from Spirited Away) enchant the images as they appear on the big screen with very special magic. With a total of 29 tracks from 10 films, Hisaishi presents A Symphonic Celebration, with the crème de la crème of his Studio Ghibli works in all their diversity - as composer, conductor and pianist - newly arranged for the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. In fact, this is the first time that the film music of Princess Mononoke and Porco Rosso has been recorded with a professional world orchestra. During an interview, Hisashi tells us himself:“We recorded the project last year in a church with a huge choir and orchestra, and that was really great. The orchestras in Europe somehow have a longer, fuller sound. Of course, the musicians in Japan are also highly professional, but in Vienna or London the feeling for the music is a bit different again.”Whether it’s in Japan, Europe or America - with A Symphonic Celebration we can now enjoy Hisaishi’s wonderful and unique film music all over the world, and immerse ourselves fully in the fabulous stories of Miyazaki’s anime characters. © Lena Germann/Qobuz

Songs in the Key of Life was Stevie Wonder's longest, most ambitious collection of songs, a two-LP (plus accompanying EP) set that -- just as the title promised -- touched on nearly every issue under the sun, and did it all with ambitious (even for him), wide-ranging arrangements and some of the best performances of Wonder's career. The opening "Love's in Need of Love Today" and "Have a Talk with God" are curiously subdued, but Stevie soon kicks into gear with "Village Ghetto Land," a fierce exposé of ghetto neglect set to a satirical Baroque synthesizer. Hot on its heels comes the torrid fusion jam "Contusion," a big, brassy hit tribute to the recently departed Duke Ellington in "Sir Duke," and (another hit, this one a Grammy winner as well) the bumping poem to his childhood, "I Wish." Though they didn't necessarily appear in order, Songs in the Key of Life contains nearly a full album on love and relationships, along with another full album on issues social and spiritual. Fans of the love album Talking Book can marvel that he sets the bar even higher here, with brilliant material like the tenderly cathartic and gloriously redemptive "Joy Inside My Tears," the two-part, smooth-and-rough "Ordinary Pain," the bitterly ironic "All Day Sucker," or another classic heartbreaker, "Summer Soft." Those inclined toward Stevie Wonder the social-issues artist had quite a few songs to focus on as well: "Black Man" was a Bicentennial school lesson on remembering the vastly different people who helped build America; "Pastime Paradise" examined the plight of those who live in the past and have little hope for the future; "Village Ghetto Land" brought listeners to a nightmare of urban wasteland; and "Saturn" found Stevie questioning his kinship with the rest of humanity and amusingly imagining paradise as a residency on a distant planet. If all this sounds overwhelming, it is; Stevie Wonder had talent to spare during the mid-'70s, and instead of letting the reserve trickle out during the rest of the decade, he let it all go with one massive burst. (His only subsequent record of the '70s was the similarly gargantuan but largely instrumental soundtrack Journey Through the Secret Life of Plants.)© John Bush /TiVo

The tenth studio album from Sufjan Stevens is conceptually looser than 2015's acclaimed Carrie and Lowell, about his complicated relationship with his mother, an addict who suffered from bipolar disorder and schizophrenia, and the stepfather who brought both levity and depth to Stevens' life. That said, Javelin is more like a greatest-hits of the topics that have always pervaded his music: love and loss and what if; faith and higher power. Modest (but not simple) guitar, an Up-with-People style choir and soft but deeply booming drums create a cocoon-like atmosphere on "Everything That Rises"—a safe space for Stevens to implore "Jesus lift me up to a higher plane ... before I go insane." Folky "A Running Start" captures that weird, suspended-in-amber moment before a first kiss, with Sufjan singing, "I cross my arms to shield my heart." "Will anybody ever love me?/ For good reasons/ Without grievance, not for sport?" he questions on the lovely "Will Anybody Ever Love Me," its stacks of vocal layers almost disorienting. Piano-driven "So You Are Tired" ("So you are tired of us ... So you are tired of even my kiss ... So you are dreaming of after … I was the man still in love with you/ When I already knew it was done") re-creates the helpless feeling of someone falling out of love with you. But Stevens is aware of his own power, too, on "Javelin (To Have And To Hold)," a metaphor symphony of near-misses and regrets. "Searching through the snow/ For the javelin I had not meant to throw right at you," he sings as backing vocals blow behind him like a chilled wind. (Adrienne Maree Brown, Hannah Cohen, Pauline Delassus, Megan Lui and Nedelle Torrisi lend harmonies to the songs.) Musically, Javelin is not so far from Carrie and Lowell's quiet beauty; "My Red Little Fox" manages to bottle the sort of Elliott Smith melancholy Stevens has used in past songs like "Should Have Known Better." But this time around, his emotions cannot be contained in one space. So many of the hushed, even delicate moments here bloom into something much bigger—the big burst on  "Goodbye Evergreen" could fit either a marching band or the Flaming Lips. And "Shit Talk" stretches for a luxuriant eight-and-a-half minutes as Stevens seeks security and comfort while accompanied by The National's Bryce Dessner on clear, bright guitar. "Hold me closely/ Hold me tightly/ Lest I fall," the verses start off like a prayer, before Stevens' tone twists into anguish.The song grows to pandemonium—feminine and masculine voices separating and taking sides but ultimately yearning for the same thing—before fading into a lengthy instrumental interlude: the inhale and exhale of life. It all ends with a stripped-down cover of Neil Young's "There's a World"; freed of the original's London Symphony Orchestra grandeur, the song appropriately becomes more vulnerable, its belly exposed. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Among the major tenor saxophonists of the last 75 years, Charles Lloyd has always stood apart. Most of his peers were based in New York but Lloyd, a Memphis native, often worked out of the West Coast.  He frequently collaborated with rock musicians in the 1960s and 1970s, including the Beach Boys, the Doors, Roger McGuinn, and others; at the time, it was uncommon for an important jazz figure to have such close ties to the rock scene.  Those associations reveal an artist open to new sounds as he follows his own path.Decades later, the octogenarian continues to be a singular force, and on the excellent 2024 release, The Sky Will Still Be There Tomorrow, he leads a stellar new band: pianist Jason Moran, bassist Larry Grenadier, and drummer Brian Blade. Lloyd revisits older material with fresh ears, and the double album also includes six new compositions along with versions of the spiritual, "Balm in Gilead," and J. Rosamond Johnson and James Weldon Johnson's hymn, "Lift Every Voice and Sing."On the opener, "Defiant, Tender Warrior," which features an arrangement by Lloyd and Moran, Blade deftly deploys rumble, clatter, and hiss to create a foundation and an enveloping atmosphere. Lloyd's fluttering high notes, just-so breathiness, and speedy note-flurries sensitively play off Moran's take on the piece's tender melody.  Lloyd's sole alto sax performance occurs on the title cut, one of the album's new pieces. At first, the track sounds like a loosened-up version of bebop, but soon Moran's dissonant piano changes the vibe. A groove that recalls Keith Jarrett (a former Lloyd sideman), emerges, and a spare, bluesy section follows. Wherever the music goes, the engaged quartet brings it to full flower. On "Beyond Darkness," Lloyd displays a warm, nicely shaded tone on alto flute. Blade's rolls and cymbal hits, Grenadier's groove, and Moran's impressionistic lines create a gentle pelagic ambience for Lloyd's lyrical explorations. Beyond darkness, indeed, this is wonderfully blissed-out music."Defiant, Reprise; Homeward Dove" looks back to the opener. The two tracks perfectly bracket an album that gracefully takes the listener on a journey with Lloyd and his sensitively attuned band. As the last notes sound, there is a sense of a cycle completed.  © Fred Cisterna/Qobuz

Since joining the Bad Seeds in 1994, Warren Ellis has played an increasingly important role in the musical universe of Nick Cave, to the point that the two Australians have multiplied their projects outside of the group, with a total complicity that shines on both their movie soundtracks and their duo records. Cave’s prose – increasingly inhabited by the sacred and the poetic – has found the perfect vessel in Ellis’s scores and instrumentation, a sort of churchlike New Age, alternating between tension and evanescence, like an almost supernatural chamber rock.A new peak of this artistic friendship, this copious, magnificent, 18-track live album was recorded in their home country of Australia, at the Sydney Opera House in December 2022. At the heart of Australian Carnage – Live at the Sydney Opera House is the very intense “Carnage” released by the tandem in February 2021 and played nearly in its entirety on the live album, but Nick Cave and Warren Ellis don’t forget to sprinkle in a few highlights of the Bad Seeds album Ghosteen. They also lean on the impressive vocal palisade built by their backing vocalists Janet Rasmus, Wendi Rose, and T Jae Cole, alongside the rhythmic punctuations of bassist Colin Greenwood and drummer Toby Dammit. The result is a fascinating reflection of the alchemy the songwriter has been conceiving for decades. A fusion between – warning, the shopping list is long – despair, empathy, sadness, faith, redemption, chagrin, love, joy, and loss.Since the death of two of his sons, Arthur in 2015 and Jethro in 2022, Nick Cave has found even greater solace in his art, anchored in the spiritual (the DNA of gospel is everywhere) and the dreamlike. This sensation is heightened by prophetic layers of keyboard and Warren Ellis’s shamanic violin. Yet in spite of all of the heavy touches, this live album is a festive celebration, and Nick Cave doesn’t forget to crack a joke or two between songs. He even revisits T-Rex’s “Cosmic Dancer”, just to remind everyone that rock and roll is still running through his veins. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

The third EP from Papa Emeritus and his Nameless Ghouls commences with a punchy but forgettable, alt rock-leaning rendition of Television's post-punk classic "See No Evil." Ghost mastermind Tobias Forge has never been shy about his love for new wave -- the band has applied their dark arts to material by Echo & The Bunnymen, Depeche Mode, and Eurythmics -- and Phantomime peers more profoundly into the 20th century pop abyss than ever before. Buoyed by a searing rendition of Genesis' 1992 televangelism satire "Jesus He Knows Me" and a muscular and majestic take on Tina Turner's Mad Max-adjacent "We Don't Need Another Hero," Forge and company go full-tilt on their commercial aspirations while retaining enough papal shock rock weirdness to satiate their congregation.© James Christopher Monger /TiVo

On Ghosts, a variety of keyboards—acoustic piano, electric Fender Rhodes, synths—make up the core of Polish composer, pianist, and singer Hania Rani's sound world. It's an ambient place inflected with delicate melancholia and, occasionally, uplift. A third of the tracks are instrumentals, but rather than simply functioning as musical interludes, the voiceless pieces are an integral part of the album's flow. The hypnotic, slightly ominous instrumental "Oltre Terra" opens the album with carefully crafted pulses, pings, and drones. The piece nicely sets up the incredibly catchy "Hello," where Rani, shaded by backup vocals and jazzy keyboard, gives voice to an irresistible melody that rides rubbery electronic bass and brushed drums. "Don't Break My Heart" hints at gospel and rhythm and blues. Special guest Duncan Bellamy of the British rock band Portico Quartet provides spare and subtle percussion and loops that play off Rani's yearning voice. On "Dancing with Ghosts," Rani is joined by Patrick Watson on vocals and piano; accompanied by a panoply of electronic sounds, their voices mesmerize. The next cut, the gently propulsive "A Day in Never," employs hand percussion and rippling piano to support Rani's rhythmically insistent singing. Icelandic multi-instrumentalist Ólafur Arnalds appears on "Whispering House," where tense breathing and spare and lovely keyboard tones fill the air. The effect is spooky: a haunting of a song that is barely there at all. By contrast, "Thin Line" vibrates with psychedelic energy. Strings arranged by Viktor Orri Árnason wend their way over percolating rhythms as Rani's vocals play with a handful of notes and words. The hypnotic track has a gentle quality but in this dreamy context it qualifies as a rocker. © Fred Cisterna/Qobuz    

Pianist Vijay Iyer, bassist Linda May Han Oh, and drummer Tyshawn Sorey recorded their debut, Uneasy, shortly before the pandemic hit the United States, receiving critical acclaim upon its release in 2021. Compassion, the acoustic trio's follow-up, finds the three musicians in top form again. Iyer wrote all of the material except for Stevie Wonder's "Overjoyed," Roscoe Mitchell's "Nonaah," and one other track. Sorey is a lauded composer, and Oh's releases as a leader feature her fine compositions, but the pair's extraordinary improvisatory and interpretive skills are what's on display here. The title of "Arch" refers to Archbishop Desmond Tutu, the well-known South African anti-apartheid activist. The cut is an example of how inventive this rhythm section can be: Oh's playing is strikingly expressive throughout the range of her instrument, and Sorey's drumming is marked by accents that enliven the music's flow. Iyer can be quietly impressionistic or let loose dense, forceful passages that bear traces of McCoy Tyner. "It Goes" was originally composed to accompany an Eve L. Ewing poem that imagines a warm encounter with Emmett Till had he lived into adulthood rather than being lynched at 14. This wordless version works nicely as a solo piano piece, one with a gentle bounce evocative of Erik Satie.  Compassion closes strongly with its most electric track,  "Free Spirits/Drummer's Song." Penned by the late saxophonist John Stubblefield, it is a catchy, hard-driving slice of post-bop that clearly energized the group. Later, "Drummer's Song," by the late pianist Geri Allen, emerges. The band really blasts off as they dig into Allen's irresistible hook: Sorey's drumming brims with ever-shifting details and a thrilling sense of propulsion, and Iyer's tension-and-release moves are gripping.   © Fred Cisterna/Qobuz

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

On Halloween night 2022, Duran Duran donned a variety of horror movie-esque costumes and performed a very special concert in Las Vegas. The setlist highlighted a selection of their spookiest songs—"Hungry Like the Wolf," "Union of the Snake" and "Shadows on Your Side"—and a bevy of darker covers. From that night sprang the hair-raising studio album Danse Macabre, a delightfully frightful celebration of the band's influences and history encompassing cover songs, choice remakes, and three originals.Most notably, Danse Macabre includes contributions from former guitarists Andy Taylor and Warren Cuccurullo as well as long-time collaborator Nile Rodgers. One of the album's highlights, the slick disco-funk throwback "Black Moonlight," even features guitar from both Taylor and Rodgers; the collision of their individual styles crackles like dynamite. Taylor also contributes majestic guitar to two other remakes of Duran originals: a doom-laden update of 1981's "Nightboat" and a gorgeous, languid version of the beloved "Union of the Snake" b-side "Secret Oktober." The latter, now called "Secret Oktober 31st," weaves ominous sound effects (an uneasy music box, creepy chimes) into the song's signature haunting vocals and gouging bass; the end result sounds like something beamed straight out of a cobweb-covered haunted mansion. Cuccurullo, meanwhile, adds Big Thing-esque guitar stabs on the title track and soul-funk riffing on "Love Voudou," the latter a slinky, string-augmented remake of 1993's "Love Voodoo." Covers-wise, Danse Macabre also sounds inspired, led by a propulsive take on Siouxsie and the Banshees’ gothic howl "Spellbound" (also a highlight of the Vegas concert), a pulsating rendition of Cerrone's electro-disco explosion "Supernature," and a groovy version of Talking Heads' "Psycho Killer" featuring Måneskin bassist Victoria De Angelis. However, Danse Macabre's best cover is an adventurous interpretation of Billie Eilish's "Bury a Friend." Bolstered by darkwave synth swerves, eerie background vocals and an arrangement that amplifies the broken-marionette vibe of Eilish's original, the song is playful and macabre in equal measures. The only tune that doesn't quite work is an uneven take on the Rolling Stones' "Paint It Black" that feels tossed-off and unrehearsed. Make no mistake, however: Danse Macabre isn't a sequel to Duran Duran's (unfairly maligned) 1995 covers album Thank You, but a compelling collection with its own singular appeal. Just listen to the album-closing original "Confession in the Afterlife," a wistful ballad shrouded by emotional ghosts that's deeply affecting. Spine-chilling veneer aside, Danse Macabre is no tricks—and all treats. © Annie Zaleski/Qobuz

Amidst the whirlwind that came in the wake of her 2021 Mercury Prize-winning debut Collapsed in Sunbeams, Arlo Parks took time off—from performing, social media and generally being in the public eye—for her mental health. The reward for that space is My Soft Machine, an album that Parks, 23, has said is about navigating life in her 20s, the "anxiety, the substance abuse of friends … the viscera of being in love for the first time, navigating PTSD and grief and self-sabotage and joy." And for all those stressful words that come before it, there is the sound of so much joy here. Jazz-rap drums and the slightest of an Asian riff bring sunniness to romantic "Impurities," about letting yourself be happy with someone else, even if you're not picture-perfect. "My chest is buzzing like a bluebird caged/ Love like Juliette Binoche/ You touch my leg to make sure I'm still there/ I radiate like a star, like a star, star, star … When you embrace all my impurities." Bouncy, dubbing "Blades" is the sound of summertime roller disco. "Dog Rose" is delightful late '90s breeziness that underscores how much Parks sounds like the Cardigans' Nina Persson (whose own sunny songs, including solo works and in A Camp, often contain a darker shadow). "Pegasus," featuring the ubiquitous Phoebe Bridgers, is dreamy and gauzy but with percussive spikes added to keep things from going too soft: "I span 'round and screamed, 'I feel elated when you hold me/ And you got shy and beamed, 'I think it's special that you told me,'" sings Parks, who has said the song is about both "experiencing the warmth and lightness of good love for the first time" and how the "presence of real connection can be a little bit terrifying after a long time of not having it." On the flipside, coolly skittering "Weightless" probes what it's like to be more into someone than they are into you—and finds a deeper, distorted voice shadowing Parks' own, like some interior pain slipping out. The title of "Devotion" echoes the copy of naturalist Mary Oliver's poetry collection Devotions that Parks discovered in the studio ("I don't know who left it. A gift from the universe," she told The Guardian) and which influenced her as much as the flora and fauna, the lightness, of her new home in Los Angeles. But there's a surprise there, too, as the song shifts from a languid shuffle, bass undertow tugging all the while, to a wall of big, crunchy, grunge guitars. "Purple Phase" kicks back and stretches out, all sultry bass and golden splashes of cymbal, as Parks promises, "I would find all and I'd give it to you" before a sudden burst of thunder threatens the mood. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

With the brilliant Bloodline Maintenance in 2022, Ben Harper made a superb soulful turn, eyeing his elders Otis Redding, Curtis Mayfield, and Marvin Gaye, yet never plagiarising them. This time, the Californian with a thirty-year career has chosen to anchor himself deeply in the United States, to summon the history of southern blues and folk. Acoustics take precedence, as on most of Ben Harper's recent discography, making the slide guitars and the wood of the instruments resound to the point where you think you can hear the fire crackling in the fireplace. It’s mellow until, suddenly, a dominating and tense piano rears on Trying Not to Fall in Love With You, a beautiful UFO à la Tom Waits, followed by a return to the essential, with six controlled and expressive strings. This album is delectable, easy listening. We personally prefer listening with closed eyes; the ideal context to fully appreciate the sixties folk of 8 Minutes, the sensitivity of Wide Open Light, or the authentic blues of Giving Ghosts. Ben Harper has never been short of inspiration. Or beauty for that matter. © Brice Miclet/Qobuz

This umpteenth studio album from the legendary Genesis guitarist and multi-instrumentalist follows his 2021 double-header of Under a Mediterranean Sky and Surrender of Silence. A vaguely autobiographical rite-of-passage concept piece about a young character named Travla, it features a familiar cast of longtime Hackett collaborators and promises "ballads, blues, progressive rock, theatre, and fantasia."© TiVo

Cure co-founder/former drummer Lol Tolhurst and Siouxsie and the Banshees beat-keeper Budgie first met in 1979 when their respective bands toured together. In recent years, the duo started hosting a post-punk podcast called Curious Creatures that eventually led to a musical collaboration with the producer Jacknife Lee. Originally envisioned as an instrumental album, Los Angeles evolved over time to include guest vocalists like LCD Soundsytem's James Murphy, Primal Scream's Bobby Gillespie and Lonnie Holley, along with musicians such as U2 guitarist the Edge and harpist Mary Lattimore.In some ways, Los Angeles delivers exactly what you would expect from a collaboration between Tolhurst and Budgie: rhythm-heavy songs with hypnotic grooves indebted to Krautrock, electro and post-punk. Synthesizers zap like brain synapses on "Everything and Nothing" in between dizzying spurts of repetitive drum patterns; on the propulsive, Edge-featuring "Train With No Station," beatific recurring melodies peek through bustling electronic static like the sun peeking through clouds. Other guest stars are a more recognizable presence. The songs on which Gillespie appear (unsurprisingly) sound like Primal Scream's various guises—"This Is What It Is (To Be Free)" channels Screamadelica's gospel-tinged catharsis, while "Ghosted at Home" hews toward Vanishing Point's darker electro. Modest Mouse's Isaac Brock contributes frenetic vocals to the danceable (and aptly named) "We Got to Move." And Murphy contributes anguished yelps and croons to the throttling title track, which resembles a more adventurous LCD Soundsystem.But Los Angeles shines when lesser-known voices have their place in the spotlight. Pan Amsterdam is striking on the minimalist, jazzy hip-hop standout "Travel Channel," while Starcrawler's Arrow de Wilde helms a slab of scorching gothic-blues rock. And Holley presides over the rhythm-heavy experimental track "Bodies" like a fire-and-brimstone preacher before Mary Lattimore takes the song out with some bewitching harp. It's unsurprising given the pedigree of the artists involved—but Los Angeles is a ferociously fresh-sounding take on familiar sounds that lingers long after the music ends. © Annie Zaleski/Qobuz

Almost a decade since the release of their first effort, time and experience have softened Crosses' bite. On Goodnight, God Bless, I Love U, Delete., the pair (Far's Shaun Lopez and Deftones' Chino Moreno) dig deeper into their electronic sides, embracing synth pop, new wave, and goth influences. Less crunch, fewer guitars, and barely any screaming -- it's like Trent Reznor, Thom Yorke, and Sade formed a supergroup. Whereas their self-titled debut might be categorized as a "Deftones Lite" exercise, this sophomore set finally sounds like a truly separate entity. Moody as ever, the album is set to chilly synths and cold soundscapes, diving into an even darker chasm. Descending into shadowy club territory on opener "Pleasure," a skittering beat and jagged synth stabs are enveloped by a spacious, atmospheric bubble as Moreno intones a sultry "Pleasure, pleasure, pleasure." The sparse "Invisible Hand" sounds like it could be a sweet pop ditty with its melodic chorus, but with a repetitive vocal sample strung throughout the track, it ends up being anxiety-provoking and utterly unnerving. That interplay, between the sensual and discomfiting, makes for an engaging listen -- and the listener can't really predict what Lopez and Moreno will do next. In addition to highlights such as the ominous "Pulseplagg" and sprawling "Grace," Goodnight also features appearances by Run the Jewels' El-P on "Big Youth" and Cure frontman Robert Smith on "Girls Float † Boys Cry." Moving way beyond their debut, Goodnight, God Bless, I Love U, Delete. is the sound of artistic maturation and sonic expansion, a logical culmination of what they were trying to do in the first place.© Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo

Fans of the 2015 album Meliora will remember the 2018 release of Prequelle, which saw the Swedish band take a 180-degree turn with incredible, soaring lyrics, massive choruses, synths and layered violins. This record reflects the character of Papa Nihil and the group’s “new” singer, Cardinal Copia (renamed Papa Emeritus IV for Impera). With Klas Åhlund returning to the band’s production, Ghost is back with a massive sound that highlights the guitars and bass. The album begins with Kaisarion, featuring guitars so heavy they’d make George Lynch proud. It’s clear right from the off that this will be a real treat. Tobias Forge’s unusual vocals and phrasing almost hark back to the Iron Maiden from the good old days. It feels like a real revival. Spillways offers a welcome detour to the 80’s sound of Prequelle, whilst nodding towards the AOR greats. Watcher in the Sky is the real gem of the record, worthy of comparison to Ozzy's biggest solo albums. It makes for incredible listening. The second part of the album might challenge listeners not already familiar with the band. This is particularly true for the track Twenties. This song is twisted (yet not short of appeal) and is an unexpected cross between a Disney soundtrack and a dictator’s speech. There’s even reggaeton accents chucked in, because why not? Darkness at the Heart of My Love is a metal ballad with ultrapop undertones and “Sheeran-esque” accents. Respite on the Spitalfields seems to sum up Ghost’s career: just, poignant and impactful. Unstoppable and generous, this album is sophisticated in its execution. Impera just goes to show that Ghost is always a step ahead of its audience and the music industry in general. This is a must-have, and probably one of the best releases of this year. © Maxime Archambaud/Qobuz