Every few years, it seems that the zeitgeist remembers the incredible and singular genius of Moondog. Although he died in 2005 and was composing and recording music into the 1990s, the "Viking of 6th Avenue" got his start on the streets of New York City in the mid-1950s, and was regarded as something of a beatnik oddity: a blind man with long hair and a beard (and, for a bit, a Viking helmet) who was a poet, composer, and philosopher willing to expound on any of those art forms from his post at the corner of 54th and Sixth. Early albums on jazz-affiliated labels cemented that reputation, but by the late 1960s, Moondog was being regarded less as a counterculture quirk and more as the thoughtful artist that he actually was. Two albums on Columbia Masterworks emphasized his modern compositional skills and his ability to fuse unique instrumentation and percussion with traditional orchestral arrangements. What Harry Partch was to rail-riding hobos, Moondog was to street musicians: a genius of modern music working literally outside of the great performance halls. Sporadic album releases (largely on European independent labels) followed throughout the '70s and '80s, and by the time his next (and final) major-label album was released (1994's stunning Sax Pax for a Sax), Moondog was in failing health; he died in 1999. Now, more than 20 years after his passing, the zeitgeist is again catching up with Moondog, with the pending release of Holly Elson's documentary film due imminently and, even more notably, this release, a long-overdue, multi-artist, high-profile tribute album. Appropriately bridging the worlds of contemporary classical music, jazz, and art-pop, Songs and Symphoniques was collaboratively spearheaded by Brooklyn jazz-folk ensemble Ghost Train Orchestra and Kronos Quartet. Those two groups' unique imprimatur makes this project so successful, as both are excellent at interpreting the spirit of works that have been obscured, misunderstood, or both; in the case of Kronos, it's often been daring new music compositions rendered more approachable in a string quartet setting, while Ghost Train has consistently breathed new vitality and muscularity into jazz pieces from the 78 rpm era. Here, their approaches converge on the unique percussive bounce that undergirded so many of Moondog's compositions, and all of the pieces are lively and swinging but still retain their original chromatic complexity. And, by bringing in a diverse group of vocal collaborators—ranging from Jarvis Cocker and Joan As Police Woman to Karen Mantler, Petra Haden, and a stunning duet with Aoife O'Donovan and Sam Amidon—his poetry is turned into some surprisingly effective lyrics. While the textures may shift from folk to jazz to chamber music, nothing seems to venture too far from the already disparate sonic approach of Moondog, making this tribute as endearing as it is daring. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

Bob Dylan returned from exile with John Wesley Harding, a quiet, country-tinged album that split dramatically from his previous three. A calm, reflective album, John Wesley Harding strips away all of the wilder tendencies of Dylan's rock albums -- even the then-unreleased Basement Tapes he made the previous year -- but it isn't a return to his folk roots. If anything, the album is his first serious foray into country, but only a handful of songs, such as "I'll Be Your Baby Tonight," are straight country songs. Instead, John Wesley Harding is informed by the rustic sound of country, as well as many rural myths, with seemingly simple songs like "All Along the Watchtower," "I Dreamed I Saw St. Augustine," and "The Wicked Messenger" revealing several layers of meaning with repeated plays. Although the lyrics are somewhat enigmatic, the music is simple, direct, and melodic, providing a touchstone for the country-rock revolution that swept through rock in the late '60s.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Though slowly becoming a museum piece—and sadly the province of weekend garage bands—the real blues aren't going away without a fight.  Now that the Delta originators and second generation Chicagans are nearly all gone, players with the vital experience to make the music ring authentic may be rarer, but we've still got Charlie Musselwhite.  A onetime moonshine runner and basement resident of  Chicago's Jazz Record Mart, the Memphis native—now nearing 80—delivers a varied, mostly bare bones set of acoustic blues split between solo performances and those with accompaniment by drummer Rickey "Quicksand" Martin and standup bassist Barry Bays.  Fresh off a pair of much-praised collaboration albums with Ben Harper and Elvin Bishop respectively, Mississippi Son has the extra pedigree of having been recorded in Clarksdale, MS (home of the Delta Blues Museum) and being released on Chicago-based and bluescentric Alligator Records. Early blues from the Mississippi Delta, one of a young Musselwhite's first loves, is heard in a cover of Charley Patton's "Pea Vine Blues." He proves his own Delta chops in "Stingaree," which revisits the eternal blues metaphor of women as bees, singing "Man needs honey/ Gets it when he could/ Sting and always/ Feels so good." Another early blues number, "Crawling King Snake," written by Musselwhite's onetime roommate Big Joe Williams but made famous by John Lee Hooker, gets a fine moody treatment that showcases his playing on acoustic guitar, an instrument that he's learned over time and that has steadily become a larger part of his music. Though initially known for his harmonica, Musselwhite has also grown into a good if laconic singer, one who can stray outside pure blues and convincingly wend his way through a version of Guy Clark's "The Dark." And fortunately, he still has enough wind to blow his harp—though not as loud or fast as in the past—on several numbers including the closer, "A Voice Foretold." The blues have never been a complicated musical form but they do ask a lot emotionally from its genuine practitioners, a demand Musselwhite meets in the liner notes with the only right answer, "My heart is definitely in it." © Robert Baird/Qobuz

Gasoline Alley follows the same formula of Rod Stewart's first album, intercutting contemporary covers with slightly older rock & roll and folk classics and originals written in the same vein. The difference is in execution. Stewart sounds more confident, claiming Elton John's "Country Comfort," the Small Faces' "My Way of Giving," and the Rolling Stones' version of "It's All Over Now" with a ragged, laddish charm. Like its predecessor, nearly all of Gasoline Alley is played on acoustic instruments -- Stewart treats rock & roll songs like folk songs, reinterpreting them in individual, unpredictable ways. For instance, "It's All Over Now" becomes a shambling, loose-limbed ramble instead of a tight R&B/blues groove, and "Cut Across Shorty" is based around a howling, Mideastern violin instead of a rockabilly riff. Of course, being a rocker at heart, Stewart doesn't let these songs become limp acoustic numbers -- these rock harder than any fuzz-guitar workout. The drums crash and bang, the acoustic guitars are pounded with a vengeance -- it's a wild, careening sound that is positively joyous with its abandon. And on the slow songs, Stewart is nuanced and affecting -- his interpretation of Bob Dylan's "Only a Hobo" is one of the finest Dylan covers, while the original title track is a vivid, loving tribute to his adolescence. And that spirit is carried throughout Gasoline Alley. It's an album that celebrates tradition while moving it into the present and never once does it disown the past.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Same Train, Different Time is Merle Haggard's affectionate tribute to Jimmie Rodgers. Haggard provides narration between the songs, offering tales of Rodgers' life and music. While the album is rooted in the past, the key to its success is how Haggard updates these traditional songs without losing sight of their roots. There are contemporary folk, country and blues influences scattered throughout the record, adding depth to the music and proving that Rodgers' music is indeed timeless.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Gasoline Alley follows the same formula of Rod Stewart's first album, intercutting contemporary covers with slightly older rock & roll and folk classics and originals written in the same vein. The difference is in execution. Stewart sounds more confident, claiming Elton John's "Country Comfort," the Small Faces' "My Way of Giving," and the Rolling Stones' version of "It's All Over Now" with a ragged, laddish charm. Like its predecessor, nearly all of Gasoline Alley is played on acoustic instruments -- Stewart treats rock & roll songs like folk songs, reinterpreting them in individual, unpredictable ways. For instance, "It's All Over Now" becomes a shambling, loose-limbed ramble instead of a tight R&B/blues groove, and "Cut Across Shorty" is based around a howling, Mideastern violin instead of a rockabilly riff. Of course, being a rocker at heart, Stewart doesn't let these songs become limp acoustic numbers -- these rock harder than any fuzz-guitar workout. The drums crash and bang, the acoustic guitars are pounded with a vengeance -- it's a wild, careening sound that is positively joyous with its abandon. And on the slow songs, Stewart is nuanced and affecting -- his interpretation of Bob Dylan's "Only a Hobo" is one of the finest Dylan covers, while the original title track is a vivid, loving tribute to his adolescence. And that spirit is carried throughout Gasoline Alley. It's an album that celebrates tradition while moving it into the present and never once does it disown the past.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Guitarist Mel Brown is hailed as "An Impulse! Discovery" on Chicken Fat, his debut for the label, and this album does feature a fantastic unique sound. Brown played in the bands of T-Bone Walker and John Lee Hooker, and has an aggressive (though not harsh) single-string picking style. For this date he is paired with either Herb Ellis or Arthur Wright on guitar, Gerald Wiggins on organ, and Brown's regular rhythm section of Paul Humphrey on drums and Ronald Brown on electric bass. There are a couple tracks that are played as pretty straight blues, but this is a hoppin' soul-jazz date. The tunes are bouncy and funky, and Brown's playing is a real treat. His bluesy, almost reckless soloing gives a vastly different flavor that the playing of guys like Grant Green or Melvin Sparks. Gerald Wiggins' organ playing is cool and swinging, and the electric bass of Ronald Brown makes this album about as funky as Impulse ever got. Both Herb Ellis and Arthur Wright get some solo space as well, with Ellis sounding quite interesting playing an unamplified 12-string on a couple cuts. Brown gets some nice tones as well, and on "Hobo Flats" plays "an electronic guitar with Wah-Wah distortion" (remember, this is 1967 jazz) "that gives a weird shimmering sound," according to the liner notes. Leave it to Impulse! to put a new spin on the guitar/organ sound. This is hot stuff. © Sean Westergaard /TiVo

On this LP issued by Columbia, Mingus thanked producer Teo Macero for "his untiring efforts in producing the best album I have ever made." From his deathbed in Mexico in 1979 he sent a message to Sy Johnson (who was responsible for many of the arrangements on the album), saying that Let My Children Hear Music was the record he liked most from his career. Although Mingus' small-group recordings are the ones most often cited as his premier works, this album does, in fact, rank at the top of his oeuvre and compares favorably with the finest large-ensemble jazz recordings by anyone, including Ellington. The pieces had been brewing over the years, one from as far back as 1939, and had been given more or less threadbare performances on occasion, but this was his first chance to record them with a sizable, well-rehearsed orchestra. Still, there were difficulties, both in the recording and afterward. The exact personnel is sketchy, largely due to contractual issues, several arrangers were imported to paste things together, making the true authorship of some passages questionable, and Macero (as he did with various Miles Davis projects) edited freely and sometimes noticeably. The listener will happily put aside all quibbles, however, when the music is heard. From the opening, irresistible swing of "The Shoes of the Fisherman's Wife Are Some Jiveass Slippers" to the swirling depths of "The I of Hurricane Sue," these songs are some of the most glorious, imaginative, and full of life ever recorded. Each piece has its own strengths, but special mention should be made of two. "Adagio Ma Non Troppo" is based entirely on a piano improvisation played by Mingus in 1964 and issued on Mingus Plays Piano. Its logical structure, playful nature, and crystalline moments of beauty would be astounding in a polished composition; the fact that it was originally improvised is almost unbelievable. "Hobo Ho," a holy roller powerhouse featuring the impassioned tenor of James Moody, reaches an incredible fever pitch, the backing horns volleying riff after riff at the soloists, the entire composition teetering right on the edge of total chaos. Let My Children Hear Music is a towering achievement and a must for any serious jazz fan.© Brian Olewnick /TiVo

Bringing together Emmylou Harris, Dolly Parton, and Linda Ronstadt for the album Trio was a truly inspired idea, and not simply because they were three of the finest voices in country and pop music at the time. While a gifted entertainer, Parton is also a business-savvy professional who will willingly set aside her gifts as a pure country singer if she thinks her audience would rather hear something like "Nine to Five." However, give her a stage for old-school country material, and she will always rise sublimely to the occasion. Similarly, some of Linda Ronstadt's finest work was on her early country-rock albums (especially Heart Like a Wheel), but she seems to operate best with strong collaborators; left to her own devices, she's just as likely to pick wrong-headed material in styles not comfortable to her, but in the right settings her gifts still dazzle. And while Emmylou Harris had as strong a track record as anyone in Nashville in the 1980s, it's obvious she loves to collaborate with others, and sings harmonies with the same rich and affecting beauty that she brings to her headlining gigs. So you take two gifted artists who need proper direction, team them up with an excellent collaborative artist, and the results should fall neatly into place. In truth, that's a formula as likely as not to fail, but on Trio the experiment works brilliantly. The three vocalists display an obvious affinity and respect for one another's talents, inspiring superb performances in one another, and while they all shine in their solo spots, some of the album's most pleasurable moments are when the three harmonize, with their distinct but equally impressive voices melding into a whole that's more than the sum of its parts. Harris, Parton, and Ronstadt also make the most of a set of fine songs (certainly a better program than Parton or Ronstadt had taken on in the studio in a while), and producer George Massenburg lined up a wonderfully subtle and intuitive backing group, with Ry Cooder, David Lindley, and Albert Lee picking gloriously without calling undue attention to themselves. In short, Trio is that rare example of an all-star collaborative effort that truly shows everyone involved to their best advantage, and it ranks with the best of all three headliners' work.© Mark Deming /TiVo

Despite some brilliant songs, Prine's followup albums to his stunning debut were uneven until this, his fifth, produced by his friend Steve Goodman. Here, Prine's always finely-tuned sense of absurdity once again collides with his ability to depict pain sympathetically for a whole album, typified by "That's the Way That the World Goes 'Round," a neat statement of his philosophy, and "Sabu Visits the Twin Cities Alone," perhaps the best depiction ever written of life on the road in the entertainment business.© William Ruhlmann /TiVo