With Paranoïa, Angels, True Love, Christine And The Queens embarks on a long spiritual journey, with Madonna as their guiding high priestess. The two artists met in 2015 during a concert by the American, when Madonna had invited him to go on stage to choreograph a few dance steps. For this album, Christine And the Queens called on her to speak instead of sing. Seduced by the sheer madness of the project, Madonna agreed to take part in three songs (Angels Crying in My Bed, I Met an Angel and Lick the Light Out). Christine And The Queens wanted to salute this iconic voice "which speaks with all the facets inscribed in our consciousness, taking on multiple forms and roles, from the maternal figure to the dominatrix". As for the second feature of the album, the American singer and rapper 070 Shake, who can be heard on True Love and Let Me Touch You Once, makes an appearance. The spiritual form of Paranoïa, Angels, True Love owes a lot to the music produced by Mike Dean (who works with Jay-Z and Beyoncé). Often coated with a trip hop colour that reflects the multiple influences of Christine And The Queens, the tracks cede the place of honour to spectrally high strings and ecstatic electric guitar solos. We also hear a mystical cover of Canon de Pachelbel (Full of Life). Finally, this album is a way for Christine and the Queens to showcase the full range of their voice, which has never been so mixed and reverberated, for it to have maximum effect (A Day in the Water). Paranoia, Angels, True Love can be perceived as the singer's tribute to a highly determined English-speaking pop, but the air of strange musical comedy shows that this resolutely atypical object belongs only to them. © Nicolas Magenham/Qobuz

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After a period of introspection, personal as well as artistic, Korean musician Youn Sun Nah returns to her first loves as a “jazz singer” by coming out with a new album, soberly titled Elles. During this period, she travelled to the US for the duration of a collaboration with Jamie Saft, focused on a repertoire of pop-rock songs in English (She Moves On), and then definitively affirmed her talents as a songwriter with the release of a record composed entirely of her own pieces for the first time in her career (Waking World). This new album takes the intimate duo format which suits her so well, as she is accompanied on the piano - as well as on the Wurlitzer keyboard and Fender Rhodes - by American Jon Cowherd (member of the Brian Blade Fellowship since 1998 and sought-after partner of singers like Cassanfra Wilson and Lizz Wright). With the vocal expertise we know to expect from her, Youn Sun Nah interprets the abounding seductiveness of an eclectic repertoire consisting of great jazz, pop, and chanson classics made famous by iconic female artists. Passing masterfully from Björk (“Cocoon”) to Édith Piaf (“La Foule”), from Grace Jones (“Libertango”) to Nina Simone (“Feeling Good”), from Grace Slick of Jefferson Airplane (“White Rabbit”) to Roberta Flack (“Killing Me Softly”), the singer yet again her imbues very personal interpretations, magnificently orchestrated by Cowherd’s various keyboards, with an emotional intensity that is so unique. It is paradoxically supported by a sort of expressive modesty founded on a greatly precise sense of phrasing, and uses the subtle art of vibrato to allow the unfathomable depths of these songs that we thought we knew by heart to surface. © Stéphane Ollivier/Qobuz

Dirt is Alice in Chains' major artistic statement and the closest they ever came to recording a flat-out masterpiece. It's a primal, sickening howl from the depths of Layne Staley's heroin addiction, and one of the most harrowing concept albums ever recorded. Not every song on Dirt is explicitly about heroin, but Jerry Cantrell's solo-written contributions (nearly half the album) effectively maintain the thematic coherence -- nearly every song is imbued with the morbidity, self-disgust, and/or resignation of a self-aware yet powerless addict. Cantrell's technically limited but inventive guitar work is by turns explosive, textured, and queasily disorienting, keeping the listener off balance with atonal riffs and off-kilter time signatures. Staley's stark confessional lyrics are similarly effective, and consistently miserable. Sometimes he's just numb and apathetic, totally desensitized to the outside world; sometimes his self-justifications betray a shockingly casual amorality; his moments of self-recognition are permeated by despair and suicidal self-loathing. Even given its subject matter, Dirt is monstrously bleak, closely resembling the cracked, haunted landscape of its cover art. The album holds out little hope for its protagonists (aside from the much-needed survival story of "Rooster," a tribute to Cantrell's Vietnam-vet father), but in the end, it's redeemed by the honesty of its self-revelation and the sharp focus of its music. [Some versions of Dirt feature "Down in a Hole" as the next-to-last track rather than the fourth.]© Steve Huey /TiVo

Perhaps Tom Waits' most cohesive album, Bone Machine is a morbid, sinister nightmare, one that applied the quirks of his experimental '80s classics to stunningly evocative -- and often harrowing -- effect. In keeping with the title's grotesque image of the human body, Bone Machine is obsessed with decay and mortality, the ease with which earthly existence can be destroyed. The arrangements are accordingly stripped of all excess flesh; the very few, often non-traditional instruments float in distinct separation over the clanking junkyard percussion that dominates the record. It's a chilling, primal sound made all the more otherworldly (or, perhaps, underworldly) by Waits' raspy falsetto and often-distorted roars and growls. Matching that evocative power is Waits' songwriting, which is arguably the most consistently focused it's ever been. Rich in strange and extraordinarily vivid imagery, many of Waits' tales and musings are spun against an imposing backdrop of apocalyptic natural fury, underlining the insignificance of his subjects and their universally impending doom. Death is seen as freedom for the spirit, an escape from the dread and suffering of life in this world -- which he paints as hellishly bleak, full of murder, suicide, and corruption. The chugging, oddly bouncy beats of the more uptempo numbers make them even more disturbing -- there's a detached nonchalance beneath the horrific visions. Even the narrator of the catchy, playful "I Don't Wanna Grow Up" seems hopeless in this context, but that song paves the way for the closer "That Feel," an ode to the endurance of the human soul (with ultimate survivor Keith Richards on harmony vocals). The more upbeat ending hardly dispels the cloud of doom hanging over the rest of Bone Machine, but it does give the listener a gentler escape from that terrifying sonic world. All of it adds up to Waits' most affecting and powerful recording, even if it isn't his most accessible.© Steve Huey /TiVo

Who's Next is not an album lacking for reissues. In addition to a deluxe edition from 2003, there have also been multiple audiophile editions and remasters of the album since its 1971 release. So what could a "super deluxe edition" possibly contain? Quite a bit, as it turns out. As even casual Who fans know, the genesis of Who's Next was as Lifehouse, a multimedia rock opera even more ambitious than Tommy. Pete Townshend had developed a bizarre, dystopian story that somehow merged his devotion to Indian guru Meher Baba, his recent fascination with synthesizers, and the idea that the only thing that could save humanity from a test-tube-bound future was "real rock 'n' roll." Yeah, the aftereffects of the '60s were wild. After some live shows at the Young Vic in London and a series of marathon recording sessions, a 16-song tracklist was finalized, but by this point, it was collectively decided—both creatively and commercially—that perhaps another concept-dense double album might not be the best studio follow-up to Tommy. So, eight Lifehouse songs were re-cut and one new song ("My Wife") was recorded and the leaner, meaner Who's Next was released in August 1971. The album was both an instant success and has become an undisputed part of the classic rock canon, thanks to the inclusion of absolutely iconic tracks like "Won't Get Fooled Again," "Baba O'Riley," and "Behind Blue Eyes."While one could make an argument that the taut and focused power of Who's Next inadvertently proved the point of the Lifehouse story (namely, that rock 'n' roll is most effective when it's at its most primal), it's important to remember that Who's Next was also a giant artistic leap forward for the Who, as it found them at the peak of their powers as a pummeling rock band and as a band willing to be experimental and artful in their approach to being a pummeling rock band. (If any evidence is needed of the group's unrivaled power, check out take 13 of "Won't Get Fooled Again" on this set, which is so immediate and electric that it could easily be mistaken for a concert performance.) While several Lifehouse tracks found their way to other Who and Townshend records, getting a sense of the contours of the project has been difficult. But this massive, 155-track set creates those lines thanks to the inclusion of multiple Townshend demos as well as recording sessions of Life House tracks that occurred both before and after the release of Who's Next, and, most notably, two freshly mixed live shows from 1971 (including one of the Young Vic shows) that provided both the energy and, in some cases the basic tracks, for the album versions. While nothing on this bursting-at-the-seams edition overrides the all-killer-no-filler approach of Who's Next, it does provide plenty of long-desired context and documentation for what made that record so powerful. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

On her ninth album, P!nk proves to be something her tough-edged younger self might never have imagined: graceful. At 43, she's long abandoned the sometimes seductive, sometimes challenging snarl of her early work, as well as the party-girl persona of albums like Funhouse. The scene is set with "When I Get There," a piano-and-strings ballad for her father, who died in 2021. ("Is there a bar up there/ Where you've got a favorite chair … Is there a place you go/ To watch the sunset, oh.") P!nk has said that the album was partly inspired, as so many records of this era are, by the pandemic and, in her case, seeing her young son so ill with Covid-19. "The panic is temporary/ But I'll be permanent ... As scary as it gets/ It's just turbulent," she sings on "Turbulence," offering pragmatism and the wisdom, born from experience, that shocks will pass. She's also a gracious collaborator, letting her duet partners sound like themselves rather than bending them completely to her polished pop sound. The Lumineers bring along familiar marching drum rolls and Wesley Schultz's warm vocals for "Long Way to Go." Likewise, "Kids In Love," with the Swedish siblings of First Aid Kit, is as airy and folky as anything by that duo. And you can tell P!nk is a true fan of Chris Stapleton. "Just Say I'm Sorry," their closing collaboration, sounds like a Stapleton song: romantic, nostalgic, with a Roy Orbison-esque melody and the country singer's evocative guitar tone. His voice is as powerful as P!nk's—it's not so much leather and lace as leather and brightly colored leather—yet neither of them overpowers the other. But look, P!nk is still here to have a good time. The title track, co-written with Snow Patrol's Johnny McDaid, glitters with EDM beats. And she called up old collaborators Max Martin and Shellback, who produced her 2010 hit "Raise Your Glass," to help concoct "Never Gonna Not Dance Again"—a sunny, shimmering disco number with tropical-breeze horns and rhythmic "d-d-d-dance" stuttering that sounds a whole lot like Justin Timberlake's "Can't Stop the Feeling." Writer/producer Greg Kurstin, a favorite of female artists including Kelly Clarkson, Sia and P!nk herself (he worked on 2012's The Truth About Love album), layers on post-punk guitars and a pop-punk chant ("Oh no! Here we go!") to help the singer tap into the spitfire of her early work with "Hate Me": "She's loud and drunk/ Let's take her down to size … I'm the villain you made me," P!nk sings. "Last Call" has a light country flavor, "Feel Something" offers R&B vibes and tender acoustics from experimental guitarist Nate Mercereau, and "Lost Cause" could be a Disney ballad with its soaring chorus. And, lest you forget the amazing vocal leaps and tricks P!nk is capable of, "Our Song" slathers on expansive range and Broadway-worthy drama to remind the world: it's all about that voice. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Among revolutionary rock albums, Van Halen's debut often gets short shrift. Although it altered perceptions of what the guitar could do, it is not spoken of in the same reverential tones as Are You Experienced? and although it set the template for how rock & roll sounded for the next decade or more, it isn't seen as an epochal generational shift, like Led Zeppelin, The Ramones, The Rolling Stones, or Never Mind the Bollocks Here's the Sex Pistols, which was released just the year before. But make no mistake, Van Halen is as monumental, as seismic as those records, but part of the reason it's never given the same due is that there's no pretension, nothing self-conscious about it. In the best sense, it is an artless record, in the sense that it doesn't seem contrived, but it's also a great work of art because it's an effortless, guileless expression of what the band is all about, and what it would continue to be over the years. The band did get better, tighter, over the years -- peaking with their sleek masterpiece 1984, where there was no fat, nothing untidy -- but everything was in place here, from the robotic pulse of Michael Anthony and Alex Van Halen, to the gonzo shtick of David Lee Roth to the astonishing guitar of Eddie Van Halen. There may have been antecedents to this sound -- perhaps you could trace Diamond Dave's shuck-n-jive to Black Oak Arkansas' Jim Dandy, the slippery blues-less riffs hearken back to Aerosmith -- but Van Halen, to this day, sounds utterly unprecedented, as if it was a dispatch from a distant star. Some of the history behind the record has become rock lore: Eddie may have slowed down Cream records to a crawl to learn how Clapton played "Crossroads" -- the very stuff legends are made of -- but it's hard to hear Clapton here. It's hard to hear anybody else really, even with the traces of their influences, or the cover of "You Really Got Me," which doesn't seem as if it were chosen because of any great love of the Kinks, but rather because that riff got the crowd going. And that's true of all 11 songs here: they're songs designed to get a rise out of the audience, designed to get them to have a good time, and the album still crackles with energy because of it. Sheer visceral force is one thing, but originality is another, and the still-amazing thing about Van Halen is how it sounds like it has no fathers. Plenty other bands followed this template in the '80s, but like all great originals Van Halen doesn't seem to belong to the past and it still sounds like little else, despite generations of copycats. Listen to how "Runnin' with the Devil" opens the record with its mammoth, confident riff and realize that there was no other band that sounded this way -- maybe Montrose or Kiss were this far removed from the blues, but they didn't have the down-and-dirty hedonistic vibe that Van Halen did; Aerosmith certainly had that, but they were fueled by blooze and boogie, concepts that seem alien here. Everything about Van Halen is oversized: the rhythms are primal, often simple, but that gives Dave and Eddie room to run wild, and they do. They are larger than life, whether it's Dave strutting, slyly spinning dirty jokes and come-ons, or Eddie throwing out mind-melting guitar riffs with a smile. And of course, this record belongs to Eddie, just like the band's very name does. There was nothing, nothing like his furious flurry of notes on his solos, showcased on "Eruption," a startling fanfare for his gifts. He makes sounds that were unimagined before this album, and they still sound nearly inconceivable. But, at least at this point, these songs were never vehicles for Van Halen's playing; they were true blue, bone-crunching rockers, not just great riffs but full-fledged anthems, like "Jamie's Cryin'," "Atomic Punk," and "Ain't Talkin' Bout Love," songs that changed rock & roll and still are monolithic slabs of rock to this day. They still sound vital, surprising, and ultimately fun -- and really revolutionary, because no other band rocked like this before Van Halen, and it's still a giddy thrill to hear them discover a new way to rock on this stellar, seminal debut.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

His first record sans the Heartbreakers, Full Moon Fever is a career-definer for Petty straight from the opening notes of "Free Fallin." With bright guitar chords, the singer-songwriter's "And I'm free" howl, and backing vocals that crest like a Pacific wave, the song — indeed, the whole album — evokes the underlying melancholy of sunny Los Angeles. Full Moon Fever is also a tribute to Petty’s idols. Producer and co-writer Jeff Lynne of ELO layers on his signature pop polish, while leaving Petty’s raw-nerve vocals exposed. George Harrison’s harmonies give the defiant anthem "I Won’t Back Down" unexpected sweetness. Del Shannon gets a shout-out on the mischievous "Runnin' Down a Dream" — propelled by Heartbreaker Mike Campbell’s hellfire-and-brimstone guitar — and Roy Orbison hams up the chorus for the organ-chugging weirdness that is "Zombie Zoo." There’s even a true-blue cover of the Byrds’ "Feel A Whole Lot Better." But the star here, as ever, is Petty: cracking jokes on the jangling "Yer So Bad", tugging at the heartstrings with lullabye "Alright for Now" or snarling on the spaced-out "Love is a Long Road." © Qobuz

The Weeknd's career deserved a best of. Shortly after the release and the worldwide success of After Hours in 2020, and without a doubt one of his best projects, The Highlights is a synthesis of ten years of music, ten years spent defining modern pop. So, let's say it right away, there are no surprises here in terms of the track list. We find The Weeknd's hits, including the latest phenomenon, Blinding Lights, but also I Feel it Coming , a duet with Daft Punk, or The Hills, which truly transformed him into a global pop star in 2016. With no new material, this Greatest Hits allows you to retrace the Canadian's discography, but also to make some detours through projects other than his albums, in particular thanks to Earned It from the soundtrack to the film 50 Shades of Grey, to Pray For Me from Black Panther, or Love Me Harder, featuring Ariana Grande and released on the album My Everything by the latter in 2014. © Brice Miclet/Qobuz

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I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got became Sinéad O'Connor's popular breakthrough on the strength of the stunning Prince cover "Nothing Compares 2 U," which topped the pop charts for a month. But even its remarkable intimacy wasn't adequate preparation for the harrowing confessionals that composed the majority of the album. Informed by her stormy relationship with drummer John Reynolds, who fathered O'Connor's first child before the couple broke up, I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got lays the singer's psyche startlingly and sometimes uncomfortably bare. The songs mostly address relationships with parents, children, and (especially) lovers, through which O'Connor weaves a stubborn refusal to be defined by anyone but herself. In fact, the album is almost too personal and cathartic to draw the listener in close, since O'Connor projects such turmoil and offers such specific detail. Her confrontational openness makes it easy to overlook O'Connor's musical versatility. Granted, not all of the music is as brilliantly audacious as "I Am Stretched on Your Grave," which marries a Frank O'Connor poem to eerie Celtic melodies and a James Brown "Funky Drummer" sample. But the album plays like a tour de force in its demonstration of everything O'Connor can do: dramatic orchestral ballads, intimate confessionals, catchy pop/rock, driving guitar rock, and protest folk, not to mention the nearly six-minute a cappella title track. What's consistent throughout is the frighteningly strong emotion O'Connor brings to bear on the material, while remaining sensitive to each piece's individual demands. Aside from being a brilliant album in its own right, I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got foreshadowed the rise of deeply introspective female singer/songwriters like Tori Amos and Sarah McLachlan, who were more traditionally feminine and connected with a wider audience. Which takes nothing away from anyone; if anything, it's evidence that, when on top of her game, O'Connor was a singular talent.© Steve Huey /TiVo

"[A] shining demonstration of the aptitude that made Monét a sought after collaborator, but here, in the album’s comfy old-school soul and sharp modern edge, she preserves something fresh and unique for herself."© TiVo

John Mayer sang on his 2001 debut Room for Squares, released when he was 22, about his "quarter-life crisis." Now he's 43 and his latest, Sob Rock, is right on time for the mid-life one. There's a whole lot of taking stock on songs like the what-if ballad "Shouldn't Matter But It Does," which finds him thinking of a former love: "It could've been always, it could've been me/ We could've been busy naming baby number three." The incredibly catchy "New Light" (produced by Kanye West collaborator No ID, it's all upbeat yacht rock and blue-eyed soul), actually feels like a throwback to the lonely-boy longings of Mayer’s debut, only now he's "pushing 40 in the friend zone." Meanwhile, "I Guess I Just Feel Like" is pure existentialism: "I guess I just feel like nobody's honest, nobody's true ... I guess I just feel like I'm the same way too," he sings along with slow-burn blues guitar. Mayer has said that pandemic stress pushed him to reach for the "security-blanket" '80s soft rock of his childhood, and the record is at once FM-radio familiar but not a punchline. Credit producer Don Was, who knows from delicious processed cheese, having steered Glenn Frey, Michael McDonald and Paul Young, among others. On the terrific "Last Train Home," Mayer enlists a seen-it-all veteran in the form of Toto percussionist Lenny Castro, but also brings in contemporary country-pop heroine Maren Morris to stand up to the sizzle tone of his PRS Silver Sky guitar. "Til the Right One Comes" bounces like a Christine McVie cut, and the delightful "Wild Blue" never lets you forget that he's a touring guitarist with the Grateful Dead. Mayer's warm rasp—always walking the line of sultry and sad—shines on "Shot in the Dark" and the gently pulsing "Carry Me Away." His offbeat sense of humor, which was entertainingly on display during his lockdown Instagram TV series, doesn't usually make its way into songs. But one of the catchiest on Sob Rock is also one of the most confounding: The music is smooth as silk, the delivery sounds sincere, yet there's Mayer singing Yoda-like lyrics for "Why You No Love Me": "Why you no even care?..." © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Vocalist Marley Munroe (aka Lady Blackbird) evokes the maverick style of singer Nina Simone on her potent 2021 debut Black Acid Soul. Produced by Chris Seefried, Black Acid Soul is Munroe's first full-length album following a handful of singles and several years of studio work and live performing. Much like Simone, Munroe is blessed with a throaty, highly resonant voice that's well-suited to carrying a jazz standard, but which also fits nicely on dusky R&B ballads. Working with guitarist Seefried and an intimate ensemble of collaborators, including pianist Deron Johnson, bassist Jon Flaugher, and drummer Jimmy Paxson, Munroe finds a spellbinding balance between acoustic jazz and live small group soul. She underlines the Simone connection from the start, opening with a burnished take of the legendary singer's classic "Blackbird," conjuring a menacing, earthy sensuality that perfectly sets the tone for what is to come. Part of what made Simone's classic work of the '60s and '70s so intriguing was her ability to take a song from any genre and make it her own. Munroe has the same gift and displays it throughout, diving into an organ-tinged take on Reuben Bell's 1967 track "It's Not That Easy" and transforming Bill Evans' languid 1958 composition "Peace Piece" into a dreamily intoxicating tone poem called "Fix It." She even reworks the James Gang's 1969 "Collage" into a far-eyed modal number that draws equally from John Coltrane and the psychedelic band Love. While Lady Blackbird's distinct influences and love of Simone certainly drives much of Black Acid Soul, there's an immediacy and warmth to the album that feels all her own.© Matt Collar /TiVo

Comebacks are Bob Dylan's thing. Call him irrelevant and he'll summon his demons and write another masterpiece. In the 1990s, one of America's greatest creative engines was drifting. The Don Was-produced Under The Red Sky, Dylan's only collection of new songs in the decade, was met with a collective shrug.  In 1995, there was the death of Grateful Dead's Jerry Garcia—a "big brother" Dylan would call him in a eulogy he wrote for Rolling Stone.  But starting in late 1996, Dylan began writing  a record's worth of tunes in his home state of Minnesota that, after an extended recording process in California and Florida, would become Time Out of Mind. Critics and fans who'd consigned him to the scrap heap once again were effusive in their astonishment: Maybe Bobby wasn't done after all! Although the lyrics are often bitter and tinged with mortality, the love song melodies on Time Out of Mind are tender and his delivery often more pleading than angry or accusatory. The album also marked a return to writing and performing original materia, producing some of the best songs of his later career including "Make You Feel My Love," "Love Sick" and "Tryin' to Get To Heaven."As with most Dylan albums—even the masterworks—controversies immediately set in. The recording sessions were disorganized, cacophonous events, with conflicts between the artist and producer Daniel Lanois. Dylan disliked the sound of the final product, ending the partnership with Lanois after two albums. Deeper insight into the making of the album is now possible thanks to the five-disc Fragments volume of the always excellent Bootleg Series. More than just a collection of outtakes and live performances from that era, this set crucially includes a new 2022 mix by Michael H. Brauer that strips out much of Lanois' trademark shimmering production and sonic luster, stripping them back to the kind of mix Dylan supposedly preferred. The most obvious result of the remix is that it becomes even clearer that these melodies, mainstays in his live shows ever since, are truly among his best ever. The often-erratic swirl of instrumentation on the original album—three drummers and two pedal steel guitars playing at once—reorders itself and makes more sense. "Make You Feel My Love," for example, becomes a very clean mix of vocals and the powerhouse keyboard duo of Augie Meyers and Jim Dickinson. Throughout the new mixes, Dylan's vocals (always a matter of taste) become more prominent. For fans of the original album, the three discs of outtakes (one previously released) provide depth and insight and include the near classic "Red River Shore," an unrequited love story unreleased until 2008, and early takes of "Mississippi" which appeared on his next album, Love and Theft. The disc of live performances of the Time Out of Mind material with a five-piece band is especially good, featuring remarkably clear sound and several knockout performances including a near-acoustic "Tryin' To Get To Heaven" from Birmingham, England, an ardent, previously-released "Make You Feel My Love" from Los Angeles. and a roaring take from Buenos Aries of " 'Til I Fell in Love With You." A deeper dive than most of the Bootleg series, Fragments embodies the idea of essential. © Robert Baird/Qobuz