French DJ JC la Saout, who records under the nom de club Wax Tailor, has the wide-ranging musical erudition of DJ Spooky without the latter's insufferable pretentiousness, and the Technicolor stylistic range of DJ Shadow without the latter's tendency towards unwieldy sonic sprawl. He is also -- and this is interesting -- not obviously concerned with showcasing his Frenchness in any noticeable way. No Johnny Hallyday or Indochine samples, no accordions, no French-language found sound. Some of his guests are French, but they all sing in English and contribute to an album that could almost be called an exercise in musical Esperanto -- a mishmash of stylistic elements that draws from a wide variety of sources and adds up to something familiar-sounding but new. Not everything is spectacular, and like many of his colleagues, Wax Tailor has a maddening weakness for between-song filler. But there's more than enough spectacular content here to justify the four-star rating. Highlights include the edgily funky "Once Upon a Past," the turntablist-goes-to-the-movies brilliance of "The Tune," and "That Case," with its jazzy flute multiphonics and Mission Impossible bongo drums. Feel free to skip over "Alien in My Belly," which ends the album on a creepy and rhythmically disjointed note. Highly recommended overall. © Rick Anderson /TiVo

On Chapter VII: Hope and Sorrow, Sevendust open their doors to such guests as Alter Bridge's Myles Kennedy and American Idol's Chris Daughtry, a move that stretches the album's sound past the usual limits of alternative metal. Daughtry may be a popular figure in the hard rock world, but he's also synonymous with the glitzy TV show that helped launch his career, and his presence here points to Sevendust's desire to tap into that same market. If 2007's Alpha prized riffs over melody, then Chapter VII is the reversal of that arrangement, with songs like "Sorrow" and "The Past" featuring the sort of tough-guy-ballad approach that often yields heavy rotation on modern rock radio. Daughtry lends his vocals to the latter song, although his moment in the spotlight is limited -- perhaps because his voice outshines Sevendust's Lajon Witherspoon, or because the band doesn't want "The Past" to sound too much like a Daughtry track. "Hope," on the other hand, pitches itself closer to the Linkin Park camp with its melancholic piano intro and rainy day atmospherics, even if the chorus packs more throat-shredding power than anything Chester Bennington has mustered on a Linkin Park release. Pounding percussion, swaggering guitars, and downtrodden lyrics are still Sevendust's bread and butter -- especially throughout the album's second half -- and even "Hope" finds time to showcase some dazzling, fiery guitar heroics by the visiting Mark Tremonti. So while Sevendust's audience won't be thoroughly confused with this release, they'll occasionally be jolted by the changes that Chapter VII presents: pop idol cameos, heavy-handed semi-ballads, and some cautious steps outside of the alt-metal genre.© Andrew Leahey /TiVo

By the 1974 release of Shankar Family & Friends, George Harrison's post-Beatles career had peaked twice, once with his debut solo album, All Things Must Pass, and again with 1973's Living in the Material World. Along the way, in August 1971, he—along with Ravi Shankar—co-produced the Concert for Bangladesh, a multi-act charity event intended to raise funds for starving refugees of the then-raging Bangladesh Liberation War. This was not Shankar's first high-profile U.S. concert appearance, as the sitar player made a seismic impact at both Monterey Pop and Woodstock, but it was the first time he had been so publicly tied to his friend Harrison. (The two musicians connected personally in the late '60s, but had not previously collaborated on a musical project.) Given the success—both in terms of critical reception and awareness-raising—of The Concert for Bangladesh album, it wasn't too surprising when Harrison chose to make Shankar Family & Friends one of the first album releases on his Dark Horse Records label. Of course, legend has it that Harrison's enthusiasm for Shankar's music led him to feature the sitarist too much on their 1974 tour together—the first big tour by a solo Beatle—leading many fans to turn away from both artists and perhaps precipitating Harrison's commercial and critical decline through the rest of the '70s. However, Harrison's dedication to his friend never wavered and he released more albums of Indian classical music on Dark Horse over the next couple of years. He also collaborated directly with Shankar on 1996's incredible Chants of India. Shankar Family & Friends is probably the clearest and most direct statement of their connection: Harrison obviously wanted the album to be a success on its own terms, so the album sequence leads off with "I Am Missing You," a deceptively infectious pop anthem that sounds like it was written by Harrison, but was in fact penned by Shankar, with production and arranging duties falling to Harrison. "I Am Missing You" is a brain-melting bit of east-west fusion, not because of any overt psychedelic vibes, but for the way it presents as an actual fusion; depending upon which moment or which element of the song you're focusing on, it's either obviously a Ravi Shankar composition or obviously a George Harrison arrangement. Shankar's sister-in-law, Lakshmi Shankar sings the English lyrics in her Hindustani classically trained voice, while sitars and tablas are set aside for guitars, organ, saxophone, and Ringo Starr's drums. It is catchy and familiar while also being incredibly distinct and unusual to Western ears. That it is featured twice on the album is even more evidence of Harrison's enthusiasm for it, but it's also the album's anomaly. For the rest of the first half, Shankar's vision of accessible east-west fusion—leaning more toward jazz-and soul-flecked renditions of bhajans and Indian folk music—dominates, making for a pleasant, atmospheric listen. Shankar's sheer creative energy unfolds in the second half, in the form of a multi-part suite, Dream, Nightmare & Dawn, that was originally written for a proposed ballet. The nine-piece composition straddles the line between Indian and Western classical forms and instrumentations, in much the same way that "I Am Missing You" does with pop music. It's as stunningly audacious as it is engagingly listenable. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

On Chapter VII: Hope and Sorrow, Sevendust open their doors to such guests as Alter Bridge's Myles Kennedy and American Idol's Chris Daughtry, a move that stretches the album's sound past the usual limits of alternative metal. Daughtry may be a popular figure in the hard rock world, but he's also synonymous with the glitzy TV show that helped launch his career, and his presence here points to Sevendust's desire to tap into that same market. If 2007's Alpha prized riffs over melody, then Chapter VII is the reversal of that arrangement, with songs like "Sorrow" and "The Past" featuring the sort of tough-guy-ballad approach that often yields heavy rotation on modern rock radio. Daughtry lends his vocals to the latter song, although his moment in the spotlight is limited -- perhaps because his voice outshines Sevendust's Lajon Witherspoon, or because the band doesn't want "The Past" to sound too much like a Daughtry track. "Hope," on the other hand, pitches itself closer to the Linkin Park camp with its melancholic piano intro and rainy day atmospherics, even if the chorus packs more throat-shredding power than anything Chester Bennington has mustered on a Linkin Park release. Pounding percussion, swaggering guitars, and downtrodden lyrics are still Sevendust's bread and butter -- especially throughout the album's second half -- and even "Hope" finds time to showcase some dazzling, fiery guitar heroics by the visiting Mark Tremonti. So while Sevendust's audience won't be thoroughly confused with this release, they'll occasionally be jolted by the changes that Chapter VII presents: pop idol cameos, heavy-handed semi-ballads, and some cautious steps outside of the alt-metal genre.© Andrew Leahey /TiVo