Accompanied by the London Philharmonic under the direction of Vince Mendoza, Canadian singer-songwriter Joni Mitchell revisits with great emotion, in a voice marked by time and supported by sumptuous orchestral arrangements, several standards of the American music hall from the 1920s to the 1970s, as well as very heart-moving remakes of two of her songs, her famous hit 'Both Sides', now from 1968 and 'A case of you' from the 1971 album 'Blue'.

Few artists in the 2020s are as deserving of carte blanche as Kali Uchis. Before delivering Red Moon in Venus, the singer and songwriter had earned a Latin Grammy nomination, a Grammy win for Best Dance Recording, and other nominations in the R&B and Música Urbana fields, plus platinum certifications as headliner or co-star of five rather different singles. Isolation and Sin Miedo (Del Amor y Otros Demonios) ∞ behind her, Uchis seemed primed for the difficult third album with every right to unload a carnivalesque triple LP presented as a fuzzy concept with enough stylistic whimsicality to offer something for everyone. Red Moon in Venus instead is highly concentrated in every respect. Flush with supple slow jams and celestial ballads, it's mostly about love, from possessiveness and blissful escape to vexation and bittersweet farewell. While it doesn't have the swagger or humor of Isolation, it's engaging from start to finish, consistently palatable. Uchis somehow displays as much charisma and vocal elasticity as ever, and her verses are often as instantly memorable as her hooks. Assorted production allies -- longtime associate Josh Crocker, the equally compatible Sir Dylan, and resurgent master Rodney "Darkchild" Jerkins among them -- help Uchis make each sound her own. "Hasta Cuando," frosted electro with a bumping beat that recalls Whodini, deals out teeth-kissing bilingual retribution: "Dices que yo la vida te la jodí/It's sad that you're still obsessed, keep lyin' on me." "Blue," lithe sophisti-pop replete with saxophone, makes dejection sound as glamorous as anything by Everything But the Girl or Sade. Philly soul older than half a century is evoked in "Love Between...," a dazed ballad rendered with enchanting finesse. Part of what makes the album remarkable is that these ideas sound fresh beside songs like "I Wish You Roses," "Endlessly," and the Don Toliver duet "Fantasy," additional highlights that emit kaleidoscopic swirls of pop-R&B, warm rays of post-disco boogie, and romantic dancefloor heat. The low-spirited moments are typically as alluring as the bliss-outs, and though there's a breakup in the mix, Red Moon finishes as Uchis pushes the reset button on a relationship with a strong sense of optimism.© Andy Kellman /TiVo

Led by the infectious, pseudo-new wave single "Just a Girl," No Doubt's major-label debut, Tragic Kingdom, straddles the line between '90s punk, third-wave ska, and pop sensibility. The record was produced by Matthew Wilder, the auteur behind "Break My Stride" -- a clever mainstream co-opting of new wave quirkiness, and, as such, an ideal pairing. Wilder kept his production lean and accessible, accentuating No Doubt's appealing mix of new wave melodicism, post-grunge rock, and West Coast sunshine. Even though the band isn't always able to fuse its edgy energy with pop melodies, the combination worked far better than anyone could have hoped. When everything does click, the record is pure fun, even if some of the album makes you wish they could sustain that energy throughout the record. Tragic Kingdom might not have made much of an impact upon its initial release in late 1995, but throughout 1996 "Just a Girl" and "Spiderwebs" positively ruled the airwaves, both alternative and mainstream, and in 1997 No Doubt cemented their cross-generational appeal with the ballad hit "Don't Speak."© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Several momentous music careers were blooming in New York's Greenwich Village in 1962.  A young Minnesotan on the folk circuit changed his surname to Dylan and signed on Albert Grossman to manage him. In a tiny W. 8th Street basement speakeasy called the Bon Soir, a new singer of showtunes and standards was generating an equally impressive buzz moving critic Dorothy Kilgallen to burble, "She's never had a singing lesson in her life, doesn't know how to walk, dress or take a bow, but she projects well enough to close her act with a straight rendition of 'Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf' and bring down the house …" Barbra Streisand had recently signed to Columbia Records (which also had Bob Dylan on its roster), and returned to the club for three nights of recording in November, 1962, to capture what was to be her debut album. Shelved for unknown reasons, its 24 tracks, captured in very respectable sound given the state of live recording at that time, have now been issued with new mixes supervised by Streisand and Grammy Award-winning engineer Jochem van der Saag. Accompanied only by a small band led by British pianist Peter Daniels, this is a Streisand few have seen or can remember. What's most forgotten today is how adept a performer she could be in such an intimate environment: cracking jokes, acting the coquette, even letting out rapid fire giggles in "Value." She's audibly nervous yet also clearly at home as the tough Brooklyn girl with the soft center who could raise the roof if she so chose. The singing, some of which was part of the career-spanning 1991 collection Just For The Record, is a rare delicacy. Stripped of the studio gloss that would mark most of her career after these sessions, Streisand never recorded anything this real again. In a startlingly raw version of Leonard Bernstein's children's song, "I Hate Music," she practically shrieks out the title, getting a few laughs in the process. But she follows that burst of immaturity with a gentle, utterly masterful version of Harold Arlen's "Right As The Rain" and a gutsy, breathless, showstopping version of "Cry Me A River" that hint at the career to come. Forget the gauzy outfits, the lacquered nails, those grand modulations, and perfect enunciation, this is a very young Streisand unchained. © Robert Baird/Qobuz

Rather than rushing out an album in the spring of 1968, when "Shoo-Be-Doo-Be-Doo-Da-Day" (Number 9 Pop, Number One R&B) hit, Motown waited, through the modest summer success of "You Met Your Match" (Number 35 Pop, Number Two R&B), until "For Once in My Life" (Number Two Pop and R&B) became Wonder's next mammoth single, to release an album. As a result, this album contained all three hits, making it one of Wonder's more consistent albums of the '60s, even with filler like "Sunny" and "God Bless the Child." The real find, however, is the driving "I Don't Know Why," which, when placed on the B-side of Wonder's next single, "My Cherie Amour," became a hit on its own, going to Number 39 (Pop) and Number 16 (R&B).© William Ruhlmann /TiVo

Say this for Zach Bryan: when he landed a major-label deal, he decided to go big. Very, very big, as it turns out. American Heartbreak is a whopping 34 songs, amounting to two hours and two minutes of music -- longer than any album this side of the Clash's Sandinista or Prince's Emancipation. Like those two records, American Heartbreak winds up reflecting its era. Sandinista sprawled with over three LPs, Emancipation filled out three CDs, and American Heartbreak simply spills out, an endless playlist that sounds nearly as coherent on shuffle as in its released sequence. That's not a knock on the album so much as a description: it's a clearinghouse for everything the Red Dirt troubadour has completed, whether it's a rollicking rocker like "Whiskey Fever" or a lazily soulful rendition of the Jimmie Davis standard "You Are My Sunshine." Mostly, Bryan explores an earnest, heartfelt middle ground that feels like he's standing alone with an acoustic guitar even when he's fleshed out with other instruments. Often, Bryan feels like an heir to Evan Felker, the singer/songwriter at the core of Turnpike Troubadours, one of the key Red Dirt Americana bands of the 2010s. He writes directly but not plainly; his words are unfussy and melodies unadorned. On an individual basis, the songs are striking. Collectively, American Heartbreak can be a little hard to digest, especially in one sitting: it's a little too much of a good thing, the sounds all bleeding together in an amiable fashion. Parse the songs out into user-constructed playlists, though -- or take it as a series of 20-minute EPs -- and it's hard not to be impressed with the sturdiness of Bryan's music, how he keeps the dusty literary traditions of Red Dirt troubadours alive without affectation.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Not easy to be Paul McCartney in 2018… Anyone who listens to Egypt Station knows that at 76, the former Beatle has very little chance to deliver an album, or even just a handful of songs, that can match his masterpieces of the previous century. Sir Paul must be aware of that as well… And yet, this album hits the nail right on the head. And while his voice understandably has lost some of its haughtiness compared to his golden years, Macca is still a master at writing finely refined pop songs. After writing hundreds of them, he has no lesson to receive from anyone, but listening to Hand In Hand, Do It Now, Dominoes or Confidante, the imprints of his very singular craftsmanship shine through. And in terms of production, the Wings’ former front man was smart enough not to fall into the trap of trying to sound younger than he is. It’s indeed classicism that prevails throughout this Egypt Station, which will surely delight his die-hard fans! © Clotilde Maréchal/Qobuz

Carly Rae Jepsen may not be the most prolific pop star, but when she releases an album, she makes it count. On 2015's E-MO-TION, she proved just how much more there was to her music than "Call Me Maybe" as she expanded the sugar rush of 2012's Kiss into pop songs that were equally joyous and introspective. Four years after E-MO-TION, she makes another leap forward with Dedicated, an album that reflects her growing maturity as a songwriter as well as the pop music trends of its time. Jepsen trades E-MO-TION's deep dive into '80s nostalgia for a more streamlined approach on "No Drug Like Me" and "Automatically in Love," where swelling synths and loping beats nod to tropical pop while adding sophistication to her swooning lyrics. However, some of the album's most exciting moments ignore what's fashionable. From its booming synth drums to its vocodered backing vocals and closing sax solo, "Want You in My Room" proves that Jepsen is still second to none at crafting pop songs that are infectious precisely because they're so quirky. That goes double for "Everything He Needs," which turns "He Needs Me" from Harry Nilsson's Popeye soundtrack into a winning -- if slightly unhinged -- confection of a song. Jepsen also takes the opportunity to reveal different sides of her persona, as well as her music, on Dedicated: "I'll Be Your Girl" uncovers her dark side, setting post-breakup jealousy and voyeurism to ricocheting, ska-tinged sounds that call to mind No Doubt and Santigold. Despite all of these changes, Dedicated never feels disjointed. This is partly because of Jepsen's abundant charisma -- years after "Call Me Maybe," she remains the pop star next door -- and partly because of her increasing skill as a songwriter. She still excels at crystallizing the complex ways happiness and heartache often masquerade as each other into deceptively simple pop gems, but this time she gives her relatable lyrics and irresistible hooks an even greater scope. The taut, disco-tinged opener "Julien" nails how the longing for an old flame can be just as powerful, if not more so, than the actual time with them was; on the flip side, "Happy Not Knowing" shuts down a potential lover as a means of avoiding any more heartbreak. She digs deeper into love's complicated nuances on clever, vulnerable songs like "The Sound" and "Right Words Wrong Time," both of which turn disappointing relationships into undeniable earworms. Later on, she saves some of her most indelible songwriting for "Real Love," a soaring tribute to all of love's possibilities. Fortunately, Jepsen is just as committed to her music as she is to the ideal of true love, and the way she's grown without sacrificing her uniqueness makes Dedicated a master class in what a 2010s pop album can be.© Heather Phares /TiVo

Former Best Coast frontwoman Bethany Cosentino has talked about having an old tattoo that reads "trust no one" and a new one that says "let it go." With her debut solo album, that change in attitude exudes familiar references that aren't always seen as cool but sure do feel good. The excellent "Calling on Angels" applies a sassy Linda Ronstadt delivery right down to the '70s Waddy Wachtel guitar sound. It's big, joyous, swinging fun and one of Cosentino's career bests. Catchy title track "Natural Disaster" oozes with '80s Cheez Whiz guitars and a Belinda Carlisle ease as Cosentino conflates the social-media placebo of being distracted by other people's lives with climate change dangers: "It's so much easier to focus on the things that don't involve me/ This is the hottest summer I can ever remember/ Because the world is on fire/ And, hey, if we're all dying/ Then what does it matter?/ We're a natural disaster." Credit the highly processed sound—that jangly California beach-sunset artifice—to producer Butch Walker. He does it so well, but he's also always taken care, with his own music as well as others', to let a singer's raw, true voice come through. Consentino sounds better than ever, her voice big and warm and able to knock down obstacles like some effortless gale force. On "For a Moment," she layers that power over, of all things, a sweet jangle reminiscent of "Kiss Me" by Sixpence None the Richer as she sings about living in fear but aiming to be present and not worry about what-if: "The hills behind our house/ Could literally just burst right into flames". She soars on the chorus of "Outta Time," with its countrified bounce à la early Sheryl Crow. There are jangling shades of Crow, too, on "It's Fine" and the piano ballad "Easy,"  which isn't so much a midlife crisis as an assessment—trying to figure out what to let go of and what to keep chasing: "I always thought I'd be a mother/ With a purpose to discover/ But the clouds cover me." "I've Got News for You" is as tender and vulnerable-not-weak as the Bette Midler classic "The Rose." "A Single Day" embraces a laid-back country feel, while "My Own City" picks up the '60s girl-group vibe that fueled early Best Coast songs. Tellingly, Cosentino has said that the band is on pause "indefinitely" because "Life is too short to not give yourself what you feel you need and want." ©  Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Body and Soul has Joe Jackson playing both hot- and cool-styled jazz songs, getting some worthy help from producer David Kershenbaum, who also lent Jackson a hand on his I'm the Man album. This is Jackson at his smoothest, from the fragility of "Not Here Not Now" to the earnestness of "Be My Number Two." While both this song and "Happy Ending" charted fairly low in the U.K., the explosive "You Can't Get What You Want" went to number 15 in the United States, thanks to the brilliant horn work and colorful jazz-pop mingling of all the other instruments, not to mention Jackson's suave singing. But the album's energy isn't spent entirely on one track. "Cha Cha Loco," "Losaida," and the cheery yet stylish "Go for It" carry Jackson's snazzy persona and enthusiasm even further, laying claim to how comfortable he really is at playing this style of music. Sometimes sounding preserved and entertaining in the same light, Body and Soul uses some of the character of 1982's Night and Day album, but instead of splitting up the music into mild jazz, pop, and modern R&B, he decided to tackle one of the genres wholeheartedly, and in doing so he came up with a truly impeccable release.© Mike DeGagne /TiVo

"Memory Lane" kicked off the cycle for Old Dominion's fifth album in a familiar fashion: it's cheerful with the faintest hint of a bittersweet undercurrent that expertly dodges any semblance of melancholy. The accompanying Memory Lane EP occupies a similar territory, offering eight songs -- by Old Dominion standards, that's two-thirds of an album, as they rarely go over 12 songs -- that are bright, tuneful, and relaxed, occupying the place where country meets adult contemporary. If the group and producer Shane McAnally don't display any new tricks here, they nevertheless continue to do what they do exceptionally well. They maintain a sunny, mellow vibe and don't skimp on hooks, which means these 24 minutes breeze by without a care.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

The two composers of the soundtrack for the first season of The Witcher are not (yet) stars of the film music genre, but they are certainly on their way there, given the phenomenal success of the series and its music. Giona Ostinelli is a Swiss-Italian composer, known for her work on a televised adaptation of a Stephen King novel (The Mist), whereas Sonya Belousova is a Russian pianist who was recognised in 2015 for the album Player Piano, produced by Stan Lee (Marvel). In 2019, they produced the soundtrack to The Witcher, an eight-episode-long series created by Lauren Schmidt Hissrich and broadcast on Netflix in the same year. The television adaptation is based on the literary saga of the same name, written by ‘Polish Tolkien’ Andrzej Sapkowski. The first season is based on The Last Wish and Sword of Destiny, a series of short stories which precede the main saga of The Witcher. Given the subject matter of The Witcher, it should not come as a surprise to find several pieces with Celtic and medieval connotations, whether they be dances with fiddle or tin whistle solos (They’re Alive, I’m Helping the Idiot), or ethereal voices accompanied by harps (Tomorrow I’ll Leave Blaviken For Good). Rodion Belousov’s expressive oboe solos deserve an honourable mention in Happy Childhoods Make For Dull Company and Rewriting History. As for the action music, even though the powerful rhythms are dominant, the traditional fibre remains running through the music (It’s An Ultimatum). Finally, if the music from The Witcher is so successful, it surely owes a lot of this fame to its songs, especially Toss A Coin To Your Witcher, the tune sung by the bard Jaskier (Joey Batey) and countlessly covered and parodied on social media. Both the songs and the instrumental music from The Witcher possess a poetic and melodic power, rare enough to be worthy of note. To this end, they equally have an intrinsic interest, and you can enjoy listening to it away from the visuals. © Nicolas Magenham/Qobuz

Since the dawn of the 2000s, this Californian band have been the masters of viscerally sincere, yet always unique, vintage soul. The Daptone label shines a little more brightly with this first self-titled album by Thee Sacred Souls under its belt. The band have previously released a few singles that have made old-school groove junkies aware of the standard of this San Diego trio’s music, and this album only confirms their artistry. The perfect production by Mister Daptone himself, Gabriel “Bosco Mann” Roth, is beautifully understated, affording singer Josh Lane, drummer Alex Garcia and bassist Sal Samano the ideal opportunity to reveal a selection of meticulously-conceived love songs. The tracks are supported now and again by charming horns, touches of ethereal guitars and sophisticated choirs. No fuss, no muss; the melodies, vocal harmonies and lyrics contain nothing but the essentials. Within the first few bars of the album, it becomes clear that this release has been inspired by Curtis Mayfield during the Impressions period, Smokey Robinson during the Miracles era, as well as more contemporary artists like Durand Jones & the Indications. A tasteful first album that will almost make you fantasise about pining for a lost love. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

Elvis Costello returned to the Attractions as quickly as he abandoned them, hiring the band and old producer Nick Lowe to record Blood & Chocolate, his second record in the span of one year. Where King of America was a stripped-down roots rock affair, Blood & Chocolate is a return to the harder rock of This Year's Model. Occasionally, there are hints of country and folk, but the majority of the album is straight-ahead rock & roll: the opener, "Uncomplicated," only has two chords. The main difference between the reunion and the Attractions' earlier work is the tone -- This Year's Model was tense and out of control, whereas Blood & Chocolate is controlled viciousness. "Tokyo Storm Warning," "I Hope You're Happy Now," and "I Want You" are the nastiest songs he has ever recorded, both lyrically and musically -- Costello snarls the lyrics and the Attractions bash out the chords. Blood & Chocolate doesn't retain that high level of energy throughout the record, however, and loses momentum toward the end of the album. Still, it's a lively and frequently compelling reunion, even if it is a rather mean-spirited one.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Of course, the first thing that strikes you listening to the first Barbra Streisand album, recorded and released before the singer's 21st birthday, is that great voice. And it isn't just the sheer quality of the voice, its purity and its strength throughout its register, it's also the mastery of vocal effects that produce dramatic readings of the lyrics -- each song is like a one-act musical. Streisand opens with Julie London's signature torch song, "Cry Me a River," and she doesn't only surpass London, she sets off a thermonuclear explosion. From there, versatility and novelty are emphasized -- a breakneck version of "Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?," a slow, emotion-drenched performance of "Happy Days Are Here Again." But Streisand's debut, inventively arranged and conducted by Peter Matz, is notable as much for the surprising omissions as the surprising selections. Arriving in 1963, ten years into the revival of sophisticated interwar theater songs led by Frank Sinatra and followed by all other adult pop singers, Streisand virtually ignores the modern masters like Gershwin and Berlin. When she does do Rodgers & Hart or Cole Porter, she picks obscure songs; her idea of a good 1930s number is Fats Waller and Andy Razaf's "Keepin' Out of Mischief Now." She is much more comfortable with recent theater material, choosing two songs from The Fantasticks (1960) and the title song from the stage play A Taste of Honey (1962). The Barbra Streisand Album is an essential recording in the field of pop vocals because it redefines that genre in contemporary terms. (The Barbra Streisand Album won Grammy Awards for Album of the Year, Best Female Vocal Performance, and Best Album Cover.)© William Ruhlmann /TiVo

After the synth-driven, very polished Pagans in Vegas, Metric returned with a more guitar-driven, rock & roll-centric approach on their seventh album, 2018's Art of Doubt. Metric have never been shy about shifting their sound, and each time they do their core strengths never fade. Emily Haines' powerful voice and evocative lyrics, their rock-solid rhythm section, and their ability to craft immediately hooky modern rock; these things are out in full force on Art of Doubt. This time, the guitar playing of James Shaw makes the leap to a starring role. He's been great at playing a supporting role on their last few albums, but here his slashing guitar lines, rippling fills, and atmospheric pedal work give the songs a sometime gritty, sometime spacy edge that harks back to the 2005 album Live It Out. To match his energy and fiery playing, the whole band sounds energized in a way it certainly wasn't on Pagans in Vegas. Songs like "Dark Saturday" and "Art of Doubt" are whip-smart rockers that punch like heavyweights, with Shaw laying down spiky guitar and Haines pushing her vocals to the far edge. Less aggressive songs like "Dressed to Suppress" and "Risk" may not batter the speakers, but they do have a almost menacing Strokes-y swagger; "Love You Back" struts with a self-assured nature and they deliver a healthy number of slightly melancholy pop songs that tug at the heartstrings while injecting warm melodies into the bloodstream ("Now or Never Now" and "Seven Rules" are a couple of fine examples). They haven't done away with the synths entirely, as they feature heavily on the ballads (like "Anticipate" and the dreamy, album-ending "No Lights on the Horizon") and provide a sleek underpinning to most of the rest of the tracks. It's a thoroughly modern sound but it never feels overcooked, and the passion brought to the songs by Shaw -- and especially the always reliable Haines -- is impressive. Metric synthesize the stadium rock of Fantasies, the moody hookiness of Pagans in Vegas, and the new wave spunkiness of their early albums into something that's recognizably their own, instantly memorable and one of their best overall albums yet.© Tim Sendra /TiVo