With Grace, his first full-length statement as a bandleader, songwriter/guitarist Jeff Buckley sets out upon a road less traveled, avoiding the safe and predictable in favor of the ecstatic and the personal. Not that such obvious influences as the Beatles and Led Zeppelin have disappeared from this young talent's music. Buckley's voice is an exquisitely malleable instrument, and from his daring vaults into the upper registers to his long, enraptured middle-register ornaments and moans, he suggests the breakthroughs of a young Robert Plant or Van Morrison. Songs like "The Last Goodbye" (with its coy slide intro and raga-ish string backgrounds) and "Lover, You Should've Come Over" (with its late Beatles harmonies and Edith Piaf vocal ornaments) are powerful evocations of failing relationships ("too young to hold on, and too old to just break free and run"). "Lilac Wine" and "Hallelujah" feature his glassy, translucent guitar and poignant vocals in mystical, folkish settings, while "Dream Brother" achieves an almost Doors-like melancholy. Elsewhere, Buckley showcases his new band's power on "Mojo Pin" and "Eternal Life," which draw upon blues imagery and metaphors to create a subtle, hard-rocking atmosphere.© TiVo

The Wailers' fourth album overall, Burnin', was their second for Island Records, released only six months after its predecessor, Catch a Fire. Given that speed, it's not surprising that several tracks -- "Put It On," "Small Axe," and "Duppy Conqueror" -- are re-recordings of songs dating back a few years. But they fit in seamlessly with the newer material, matching its religious militancy and anthemic style. The confrontational nature of the group's message is apparent immediately in the opening track, "Get Up, Stand Up," as stirring a song as any that emerged from the American Civil Rights movement a decade before. The Wailers are explicit in their call to violence, a complete reversal from their own 1960s "Simmer Down" philosophy. Here, on "Burnin' and Lootin'," they take issue with fellow Jamaican Jimmy Cliff's song of the previous year, "Many Rivers to Cross," asking impatiently, "How many rivers do we have to cross/Before we can talk to the boss?" "I Shot the Sheriff," the album's most celebrated song, which became a number one hit in the hands of Eric Clapton in 1974, claims self-defense, admits consequences ("If I am guilty I will pay"), and emphasizes the isolated nature of the killing ("I didn't shoot no deputy"), but its central image is violent. Such songs illuminated the desperation of poor Jamaican life, but they also looked forward to religious salvation, their themes accentuated by the compelling rhythms and the alternating vocals of the three singers. Bob Marley was a first among equals, of course, and after this album his partners, Peter Tosh and Bunny Wailer, quit the group, which thereafter was renamed Bob Marley and the Wailers. The three bonus tracks on the 2001 reissue are all by Tosh and Wailer, though recorded at the album's sessions, suggesting the source of their frustration.© William Ruhlmann /TiVo

Michael Crétu's attempt at fusing everything from easy listening sex music and hip-hop rhythms to centuries-old Gregorian chants couldn't have been more designed to tweak the nose of high art, a joyously crass stab straight at a mainstream, do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars. The result is something that shouldn't exist, but in its own way results in as much of a cultural scramble and explosion as anything Public Enemy were doing around the same time, crossing over the Euro-disco and new age spheres with style. Credit Crétu for an open ear for whatever works, which is precisely why "Sadeness," the first part of a longer track called "Principles of Lust," turned into a fluke worldwide hit. Snippets of monks invoking the Almighty effortlessly glide in and out of a polite but still strong breakbeat, shimmering, atmospheric synth and flute lines and a Frenchwoman whispering in a way that sounds distinctly more carnal than spiritual (as her gasps for breath elsewhere make clear). Guitar and male vocals add to the album version's try-anything-that-works approach, as do attempts at shuffling jazz beats and horns. If nothing quite equals that prime moment elsewhere on the album, MCMXC A.D. still trips out on the possibilities as it can, right from the opening "Voice of Enigma," inviting all listeners to sit back, relax, and take a gentle trip. Crétu certainly isn't trying to hide anything -- "Callas Went Away" goes right ahead and adds a sample of Maria Callas herself to the chirping birds and soft beats, while elsewhere the flutes, beats, monks, and French voices merrily go about their glossy business. About the only thing missing is the kitchen sink, making the entire album the "MacArthur Park" of its day.© Ned Raggett /TiVo

Smart, sophisticated, and timelessly stylish, Steve McQueen (titled Two Wheels Good in the U.S. after threats of a lawsuit from the actor's estate) is a minor classic, a shimmering jazz-pop masterpiece sparked by Paddy McAloon's witty and inventive songwriting. McAloon is a wickedly cavalier composer, his songs exploring human weaknesses like regret ("Bonny"), lust ("Appetite"), and infidelity ("Horsin' Around") with cynical insight and sarcastic flair; he's also remarkably adaptable, easily switching gears from the faux country of "Faron Young" to the stately pop grace of "Moving the River." At times, perhaps, his pretensions get the better of him (as on "Desire As"), while at other times his lyrics are perhaps too trenchant for their own good; at those moments, however, what keeps Steve McQueen afloat is Thomas Dolby's lush production, which makes even the loftiest and most biting moments as easily palatable as the airiest adult contemporary confection.© Jason Ankeny /TiVo

In 1962, Ella Fitzgerald was at the height of her powers, about midway through recording her now-iconic series of "songbook" albums and, two years earlier, having released a barnstormer of a live album, Ella in Berlin, that solidified her position as one of the most talented and popular musicians working in the jazz idiom. Her only competition at the time was, essentially, Frank Sinatra and herself. During the course of 1962, she would release three albums: two complementary collaborations with Nelson Riddle that further pushed her into crossover territory without tarnishing her credibility or minimizing her skills, and the oft-overlooked Rhythm is My Business, a hard-swinging set that comes off breezy and soulful, but is a remarkable document of the strength of Fitzgerald and her band during this era. And it's that strength that's captured on The Lost Berlin Tapes, recorded in concert at Berlin’s Sportpalast that year. Verve Records founder Norman Granz frequently recorded live sets of many of his acts (Fitzgerald especially), and that's what accounts for both the existence and the remarkable fidelity of these "lost" tapes. (Though they were never truly lost; Granz had just stashed them away). From a performance perspective, it's unbelievable that this concert recording sat unheard for more than a half-century. Brimming with energy and benefiting from the confidence that can only come from being at the top of one's game, Ella and her band careen through 17 songs with a full-throated fervor that's greeted with an equally enthusiastic response from the crowd. The set both swings incredibly hard and evinces a cool, sophisticated polish, a combination that, again, pretty much only she and Sinatra were delivering at this scale during the era. It's the sort of casual excellence that's made to look deceptively easy. (And yes, she aces the version of "Mack the Knife" here.) Releases like this—especially in the aftermath of the devastating Universal fire that destroyed so many iconic album masters and so much unreleased material—prove that, even when we think a barrel has been fully scraped or a vault fully excavated, there will always be warm, welcome surprises to be found in the archives of these legendary artists. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

The tracks on this two-CD, 31-song anthology, spanning Cohen's career from his 1967 debut album through 2002's Ten New Songs, were chosen by Cohen himself. It could thus be regarded as an accurate mirror of how Cohen sees his own career path and catalog highlights. And there are many of the songs you would expect from any decent Cohen retrospective: "Suzanne," "Sisters of Mercy," "So Long Marianne," "Bird on a Wire," "Famous Blue Raincoat," and "I'm You're Man," for instance. Still, the balance and selection isn't ideal. There's just one song ("Famous Blue Raincoat") from Songs of Love and Hate, and no songs at all from Death of a Ladies Man. Cohen's 1988-2002 period is arguably overrepresented, with about half of the package's tunes dating from that era. And because his later period is so prominently featured, most listeners won't be able to get around the fact that his voice declined in expressive range in the later years, and his material was less striking than his best early songs. Still, for those who've enjoyed Cohen all along, it's a good dose of much of his better work, and certainly doesn't skimp on the running time, with each of the discs lasting 78 minutes.© Richie Unterberger /TiVo

On 2017's Humanz, Damon Albarn returns to Gorillaz after a seven-year hiatus -- a period when he busied himself with two operas, a solo album, and a Blur reunion -- and reconnects with the collaborative instincts that drove the band's first two albums. Plastic Beach -- the 2010 album that served as the group's last major opus (The Fall, released just months later, was that LP's bittersweet coda) -- found Albarn stepping toward the center stage but on Humanz he recedes, giving his collaborators the spotlight and softening whatever complicated narrative he and illustrator Jamie Hewlett devised for their cartoon group's fourth phase. Maybe this is why Humanz feels wild and unruly in a way Plastic Beach never did: the emphasis is on the individual cuts, not the grand concept. Some themes are woven throughout the record -- there's a political undercurrent, although the upheavals of Trump and Brexit are never addressed directly; there's a heavy reliance on R&B and hip-hop -- but the album seems pleasingly scattershot as it bounces from guest to guest. Its messiness suits the digital era, when it's possible to swipe from style to style without a second thought, but Humanz isn't haphazard. Albarn deliberately sculpts each cut, giving plenty of space for Vince Staples, Grace Jones, Danny Brown, Anthony Hamilton, Mavis Staples, Pusha T, and longtime Gorillaz mainstay De La Soul to roam. That list of guest artists underscores how Humanz feels connected to soul in a way Plastic Beach didn't, but with its careening, carnivalesque hooks and skeletal 2-Tone spook -- not to mention how the whole thing is anchored on "Busted and Blue," a Damon solo track that could've slid onto Everyday Robots -- it's clearly an Albarn project. But even with its heavy, heavy R&B vibe and roiling politics, Humanz feels strangely uplifting, as if every musician who entered the studio found solace in the act of creation. That's why "We Got the Power" -- a collaboration with Savages singer Jehnny Beth and Damon's onetime rival Noel Gallagher -- is such a fitting closer: in dark times, it finds hope and inspiration in the power of the collective, which is a testament to what Albarn intends to do with Gorillaz.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

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In 1988, Stompin' Tom Connors, the most fiercely patriotic Canadian musician to ever take the stage in the land of the Maple Leaf, wrote a song in tribute to fellow Canadian k.d. lang for continuing to hang her hat in Alberta after enjoying a commercial breakthrough in the United States. It's hard to say what Stompin' Tom thinks about lang these days, now that she's an out-of-the-closet lesbian, an animal rights activist, and (gulp) spending most of her time in America, but it's a good bet he approves of Hymns of the 49th Parallel, in which lang turns her attention exclusively to the work of Canadian tunesmiths. Anchored by classic songs from Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, and Leonard Cohen (all of whom rate two songs each), Hymns of the 49th Parallel is not so much a flag-waving celebration of Canada as an appreciation of the often spare and evocative style of its best-known lyricists (or at least that's the case with the material on board), and lang and frequent collaborator Ben Mink have matched the selections with production and arrangements that are simple and to the point, with only a piano/bass/drums trio for accompaniment (though a string section pops in every once in a while). With her phrasing subdued and her projection scaled back from the big-as-all-outdoors sound of her early days, lang seems to have kept her own instrument in check as well, though her best moments still inspire a very real awe. Though lang has chosen some superb songs (and written a fine one herself in the album's only original, "Simple") and performed them with obvious love and affection, Hymns of the 49th Parallel seems oddly lacking in passion; perhaps in deference to the frozen North, this album has a cool and frosty undertow that seems designed to hold the listener at arm's length, despite the inarguable beauty of its craft. Perhaps for the follow-up, she should bring in Stompin' Tom for a duet on "The Hockey Song" to liven things up.© Mark Deming /TiVo

With She Moves On (2017), Youn Sun Nah reinvented her music. Four years after her brilliant Lento, the Korean singer chose to work with one of John Zorn’s friends, Jamie Saft on keys, Brad Jones on double bass, Dan Rieser on drums (from Norah Jones’ Little Willies) along with master guitarist Marc Ribot. She then explored a repertoire ranging from rock to folk and covered the songs of various artists such as Joni Mitchell, Paul Simon, Lou Reed, and Jimi Hendrix. Two years later, the eclectic is still the artist’s domain. Immersion, her new album, is produced by French artist Clément Ducol, who has collaborated with Melody Gardot, Nolwenn Leroy, Christophe, Vianney, Laurence Equilbey and Camille, his life partner. On the record, Youn Sun Nah goes on a trip through time and music genres. She sings Isn't it a Pity, which George Harrison once wrote for his own album All Things Must Pass, as well as Sans Toi by Michel Legrand, soundtrack for Agnès Varda’s Cléo de 5 à 7. Marvin Gaye’s Mercy Mercy Me, Johnny Cash’s God's Gonna Cut You Down, Leonard Cohen’s hit Hallelujah, and You Can't Hurry Love written by Holland–Dozier – Holland for the Supremes (another guaranteed hit) also make their appearances. The repertoire is wide and the singer’s vocal technique is broad but Youn Sun Nah always remains in control of her trademark style. Her style is vast and impressive, only confirming that this wonderful jazz singer can sing pretty much everything. © Clotilde Maréchal/Qobuz