Cat Power—Chan Marshall—wanted to mark the moment in 1966 that "informs everything …  this precipice of time that changed music forever": Bob Dylan's "Royal Albert Hall Concert" (actually played at the Manchester Free Trade Hall), the one when he switched from acoustic to electric midway through—prompting an incensed folk purist to yell out "Judas!" Fifty-six years after that concert, Marshall delivered a sublime song-for-song re-creation of the set, at the actual Royal Albert Hall. "I'm not being Bob … I'm just recreating it, that's all. But not making it mine," she has said. Inevitably, though, the songs do become hers. It's evident right away, from "She Belongs to Me" (and shortly after, "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue"), the influence Dylan has long had on Cat Power's music. But with her husky voice, so like Nico's now and far from Dylan's youthful reediness, revealing traces of her Georgia upbringing ("She don't look baaaaack") and contrasting the clean acoustic guitar and shiny harmonica, she owns it. "Desolation Row" is a twelve-and-a-half minute marvel. The guitar is not blindingly bright like Charlie McCoy's flamenco flavor, but that works well with Marshall's more serious/less jaunty air here. Without aping Dylan, she hits his inflections, putting exuberant emphasis on the ends of lines ("And the good Samaritan! He's dressing!"). Her "Visions of Johanna" underscores the prettiness of the melody, while the way she sings the name "Jo-hanna" make it feel so much more exotic than it is. She gets playful with the familiar phrasing on the chorus of "Mr. Tambourine Man" and sings "Just Like a Woman" beautifully, offering a softer, less angular version of Dylan's classic. At 50, she was twice the age of Dylan when he recorded the song for Blonde on Blonde, and you can hear—feel—the extra tread on her heart. When electrified "Tell Me Momma" kicks in like the Wizard of Oz Technicolor moment, it's as thrilling as it's supposed to be, the first word of the titular line bitingly crisp each time. "I Don't Believe You (She Acts Like We Never Have Met)" plays up the soulful grooviness that always feels a little buried on Dylan's live recording, while "Baby, Let Me Follow You Down" expertly captures his wild-eyed edginess. Marshall's "Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues" is more elegant, even with its raw edges, than Dylan's young-man machismo. She does not recreate things down to the between-song patter but there is a moment, just before "Ballad of a Thin Man" (so slinky, so powerful), when someone yells out "Judas!"—and Marshall, serenely, responds, "Jesus." "I wasn't expecting the audience to recreate their part of the original show as well, but then I wanted to set the record straight—in a way, Dylan is a deity to all of us who write songs," she has said. And, as it did in 1966, closer "Like a Rolling Stone" sounds like liberation; maybe even like Marshall knows some part of this is hers now. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

After releasing two "head" records during 1970 and 1971, Stevie Wonder expanded his compositional palette with 1972's Talking Book to include societal ills as well as tender love songs, and so recorded the first smash album of his career. What had been hinted at on the intriguing project Music of My Mind was here focused into a laser beam of tight songwriting, warm electronic arrangements, and ebullient performances -- altogether the most realistic vision of a musical personality ever put to wax, beginning with a disarmingly simple love song, "You Are the Sunshine of My Life" (but of course, it's only the composition that's simple). Wonder's not always singing a tender ballad here -- in fact, he flits from contentment to mistrust to promise to heartbreak within the course of the first four tracks -- but he never fails to render each song in the most vivid colors. In stark contrast to his early songs, which were clever but often relied on the Motown template of romantic metaphor, with Talking Book it became clear Wonder was beginning to speak his mind and use his personal history for material (just as Marvin Gaye had with the social protest of 1971's What's Going On). The lyrics became less convoluted, while the emotional power gained in intensity. "You and I" and the glorious closer "I Believe (When I Fall in Love It Will Be Forever)" subtly illustrate that the conception of love can be stronger than the reality, while "Tuesday Heartbreak" speaks simply but powerfully: "I wanna be with you when the nighttime comes/I wanna be with you till the daytime comes." Ironically, the biggest hit from Talking Book wasn't a love song at all; the funk landmark "Superstition" urges empowerment instead of hopelessness, set to a grooving beat that made it one of the biggest hits of his career. It's followed by "Big Brother," the first of his directly critical songs, excoriating politicians who posture to the underclass in order to gain the only thing they really need: votes. With Talking Book, Wonder also found a proper balance between making an album entirely by himself and benefiting from the talents of others. His wife Syreeta contributed two great lyrics, and Ray Parker, Jr. came by to record a guitar solo that brings together the lengthy jam "Maybe Your Baby." Two more guitar heroes, Jeff Beck and Buzzy Feton, appeared on "Lookin' for Another Pure Love," Beck's solo especially giving voice to the excruciating process of moving on from a broken relationship. Like no other Stevie Wonder LP before it, Talking Book is all of a piece, the first unified statement of his career. It's certainly an exercise in indulgence but, imitating life, it veers breathtakingly from love to heartbreak and back with barely a pause.© John Bush /TiVo

Caroline Polachek's latest album, Desire, I Want to Turn Into You, has been one of the most highly anticipated albums of the year, arriving on Valentine's Day to the delight of fans around the world. After the success of her debut album, Pang, Polachek's path to this latest project has been a long and winding one, with the artist dropping singles along the way, like breadcrumbs leading us to this pop paradise.As a singer-songwriter and producer, Polachek's unique take on pop music is often described as experimental, but it's her tasteful approach that truly sets her apart. With Desire, I Want to Turn Into You, Polachek invites us onto her island, surrounded by love and masterfully crafted sonic ideas that offer a much-needed palette cleanser in the saccharine-sweet buffet of pop music we are all constantly fed.The album is a mishmash of influences from all genres and eras, creating a sound that feels both timeless and forward-thinking. Each track is a building block, from the opening notes of "Welcome to My Island" to the closing chords of "Billions." On "Pretty In Possible," Polacheck channels the '80s hit "Tom's Diner" by Suzanne Vega, giving it a 2023 makeover, while "Bunny is a Rider" delivers a breakbeat, radio-ready hit that's sure to get you moving. Meanwhile, the Spanish guitars on "Sunset" transport us to a world of sun-kissed beaches and endless summers.While some critics might argue that Polachek's abstract lyrics and varied influences create a lack of throughline to the album, the counterpoint could be that this lack of consistency was intentional. By viewing the album as the soundtrack to her world, we can fully immerse ourselves in the sonic experience and discover the beauty in the chaos.  The journey takes the listener from the modern club banger "I Believe" to the ethereal "Butterfly Net," which offers a moment of respite from the chaos. The church bells and swaying harmonies of "Blood and Butter" feel like looking out over the ocean, while the Trinity Children's Choir singing "I never felt so close to you" on the closing track "Billions" brings us full circle on this island of love.Desire, I Want to Turn Into You is passionate, curious and seductive (it could be an alternative soundtrack for the television show White Lotus). While it's hard to predict what she'll do next, one thing is for sure: this is Caroline Polacheck's world, and we're all just living in it. © Jessica Porter-Langson/Qobuz

It was do or die for Toto on the group's fourth album, and they rose to the challenge. Largely dispensing with the anonymous studio rock that had characterized their first three releases, the band worked harder on its melodies, made sure its simple lyrics treated romantic subjects, augmented Bobby Kimball's vocals by having other group members sing, brought in ringers like Timothy B. Schmit, and slowed down the tempo to what came to be known as "power ballad" pace. Most of all, they wrote some hit songs: "Rosanna," the old story of a lovelorn lyric matched to a bouncy beat, was the gold, Top Ten comeback single accompanying the album release; "Make Believe" made the Top 30; and then, surprisingly, "Africa" hit number one ten months after the album's release. The members of Toto may have more relatives who are NARAS voters than any other group, but that still doesn't explain the sweep they achieved at the Grammys, winning six, including Album of the Year and Record of the Year (for "Rosanna"). Predictably, rock critics howled, but the Grammys helped set up the fourth single, "I Won't Hold You Back," another soft rock smash and Top Ten hit. As a result, Toto IV was both the group's comeback and its peak; it remains a definitive album of slick L.A. pop for the early '80s and Toto's best and most consistent record. Having made it, the members happily went back to sessions, where they helped write and record Michael Jackson's Thriller.© William Ruhlmann /TiVo

Instant-classic debut from the English rock band that introduced the world to the Gallagher brothers.© TiVo

This album came about through a fortuitous convergence of circumstances. Shelly Manne & His Men were appearing at New York's Village Vanguard, sharing the bill with the Bill Evans Trio. Getting Riverside's permission to let the pianist participate, Creed Taylor set up a session at Rudy Van Gelder's studio with Evans and Manne sharing top billing. Manne's bass player, Monty Budwig, made up the trio. This was a busman's holiday for Evans, who was freed from the musical parameters he had set for his then-current trio. The result is that his playing seemed lighter, freer, and more relaxed than it had for a while. The album kicks off with a jaunty version of Irving Berlin's "The Washington Twist" from the unsuccessful Mr. President, with Budwig sharing the honors with Evans as much as Manne. Manne spends most of his time driving Evans into more diminished and sharper playing than was usually Evans' wont. Another relatively unfamiliar Berlin work, "Let's Go Back to the Waltz," gives full reign to Evans' lyricism. The longest tune on the set is an audacious, almost lampooned version of "With a Song in My Heart" with light chordal phrasing that pretty much characterized much of the tone coming from this session. Listening to these three, it's clear that everyone was having a good time and simply enjoying being relieved of their duties with their regular combos, even if for just one day.© Dave Nathan /TiVo

The greatest classics from The Carpenters have resurfaced in a sublime blend of vocal harmonies and symphonic arrangements. For this project in 2018, Richard Carpenter himself went along to Abbey Road Studios. Their last album in 1981, Made in America, was a half-posthumous album (Richard’s sister Karen having died in 1983 at only 32 years of age) and invoked a certain feeling of nostalgia, showing that this legendary pop group shifting more towards easy-listening could still be deep. However, it is still very rooted in the American culture of the seventies, particularly through the classics Close To You, Rainy Days and Mondays and We’ve Only Just Begun.With this album, the legacy of The Carpenters lives on in an unconventional way. The producers have kept the voices of the original recordings and some instrumental parts, surrounding them with the brand-new sounds of the violins from the London Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. Thanks to their classy arrangements, these strings tastefully accentuate the romanticism of this timeless pop. © Clotilde Maréchal/Qobuz

Acoustic Live is a small treasure for longtime Nils Lofgren fans. Capturing Lofgren alone in front of an appreciative audience, knocking out such favorites as "You," "No Mercy" and "Keith Don't Go," plus six new songs. Even with the new songs, there are no real revelations, only a selection of little gems that will certainly bring a smile to the face of any longtime Lofgren fan.© Thom Owens /TiVo

Without greatly altering his approach, Rod Stewart perfected his blend of hard rock, folk, and blues on his masterpiece, Every Picture Tells a Story. Marginally a harder-rocking album than Gasoline Alley -- the Faces blister on the Temptations cover "(I Know I'm) Losing You," and the acoustic title track goes into hyper-drive with Mick Waller's primitive drumming -- the great triumph of Every Picture Tells a Story lies in its content. Every song on the album, whether it's a cover or original, is a gem, combining to form a romantic, earthy portrait of a young man joyously celebrating his young life. Of course, "Maggie May" -- the ornate, ringing ode about a seduction from an older woman -- is the centerpiece, but each song, whether it's the devilishly witty title track or the unbearably poignant "Mandolin Wind," has the same appeal. And the covers, including definitive readings of Bob Dylan's "Tomorrow Is Such a Long Time" and Tim Hardin's "Reason to Believe," as well as a rollicking "That's All Right," are equally terrific, bringing new dimension to the songs. It's a beautiful album, one that has the timeless qualities of the best folk, yet one that rocks harder than most pop music -- few rock albums are quite this powerful or this rich.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

With his second solo album released in November 1982, the former Genesis drummer/singer eyes a slightly more pop sound, which leans ever so wonderfully into Soul and R&B. We thus find in the heart of this Hello, I Must Be Going, a great cover of You Can't Hurry Love by Diana Ross' The Supremes, a single which would go on to top the British charts with near ease. This album, brilliantly produced by Phil Collins himself, (the 100% 80s sound ages rather well, and with the album finally remastered in 24-Bit Hi-Res, it really comes alive) is most remarkable for Collins' unique vocals combined with the unerring ability to sign off hit songs where rhythm is always at the heart. For a drummer, perhaps its not that surprising ... © CM/Qobuz

The storied reggae artist (and heir to the throne as Bob Marley's second son) Stephen Marley takes a new turn on his fifth solo album Old Soul. After years as a supporting player and behind-the-scenes producer, Marley emerged with solo work in the late 2000s as a powerful hybrid of roots reggae and modernized hip-hop, sometimes speckled with moments of dancehall fun for good measure. Born from nightly acoustic jams at the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, Old Soul is considerably mellower, matching soft sentiments on love, family, and the circle of life with spare arrangements that float out of the speakers like a gentle breeze. Tunes like the autobiographical title track and the lover's rock-influenced "Standing in Love" (which features a cameo from Slightly Stoopid's Kyle McDonald) keep the percussion and electric instruments to a minimum, making acoustic guitar melodies and sweet vocal harmonies the main focus. Buju Banton contributes to the perky ska number "Thanks We Get (Do Fi Dem)" and there's a reggae foundation to the brooding "Cast the First Stone" (aided by brother Damian Marley), but even these tracks are lighter readings of traditional reggae and reggae-adjacent sounds. Elsewhere, Marley curiously explores whatever style he feels, drifting through jazz standards like "Georgia on My Mind" and "These Foolish Things (Remind Me of You)" and covering the Beatles' "Don't Let Me Down" before inviting Eric Clapton to join in on lead guitar as they revisit a cover of Marley's father's 1973 hit "I Shot the Sheriff." The lazy ramble of "Winding Roads" closes Old Soul out, sounding more like a folksy, amber-hued jam band tune than anything reggae related. Assistance from the Grateful Dead's Bob Weir and the perpetually affable Jack Johnson enhance the song's laid-back essence, and it's a lovely way to let the thoughtful, even-keeled album naturally decompress. Marley maintains a relaxed energy and a light touch throughout Old Soul, but the songs are built well enough that they feel refreshing and never sleepy. It's a pendulum swing from some of his more intense moments, but the strong material shows his depth as an artist, regardless of the muse he's pursuing.© Fred Thomas /TiVo

The best Beach Boys album, and one of the best of the 1960s. The group here reached a whole new level in terms of both composition and production, layering tracks upon tracks of vocals and instruments to create a richly symphonic sound. Conventional keyboards and guitars were combined with exotic touches of orchestrated strings, bicycle bells, buzzing organs, harpsichords, flutes, Theremin, Hawaiian-sounding string instruments, Coca-Cola cans, barking dogs, and more. It wouldn't have been a classic without great songs, and this has some of the group's most stunning melodies, as well as lyrical themes which evoke both the intensity of newly born love affairs and the disappointment of failed romance (add in some general statements about loss of innocence and modern-day confusion as well). The spiritual quality of the material is enhanced by some of the most gorgeous upper-register male vocals (especially by Brian and Carl Wilson) ever heard on a rock record. "Wouldn't It Be Nice," "God Only Knows," "Caroline No," and "Sloop John B" (the last of which wasn't originally intended to go on the album) are the well-known hits, but equally worthy are such cuts as "You Still Believe in Me," "Don't Talk," "I Know There's an Answer," and "I Just Wasn't Made for These Times." It's often said that this is more of a Brian Wilson album than a Beach Boys recording (session musicians played most of the parts), but it should be noted that the harmonies are pure Beach Boys (and some of their best). Massively influential upon its release (although it was a relatively low seller compared to their previous LPs), it immediately vaulted the band into the top level of rock innovators among the intelligentsia, especially in Britain, where it was a much bigger hit.© Richie Unterberger /TiVo

Best known as the leader of Dinosaur Jr., a trio addicted to monstrous levels of volume, J Mascis has another side to his musical character. Inside this apostle of ear-shredding noise lurks a sensitive indie rock balladeer, whose creaky, minor key voice—often compared to Neil Young—is the perfect accent to his opaque songs of loss and doubt.  Strip out the guitars of many Dino Jr. songs and it's clear that Mascis has always written multi-layered songs. Like What Do We Do Now's "It's True," where he's in a state—"I'm just lying here, lost in fear, it's rising/ It's not the worst, but how bad could it get?"—and reluctantly implores, "Let me find the way to go/ Let the cracks begin to show." The opener "Can't Believe We're Here" is nearly a pop single, or what his Byron Coley-penned bio calls a "full blown post core power ballad." Further along, "Right Behind You" is one of the most tuneful originals of his career. The worry ballad, "I Can't Find You," where Mascis broods, "Feeling so obscure/ Drifting through my head/ It's made me insecure/ I'm begging you instead," is the kind of sensitive indie rock wondering that his Dinosaur Jr. persona would have hidden under sonic intensity. Mascis's arranging has reached a new level of mastery; the mix of acoustic guitars, nearly-too-busy drumming, extended guitar solo and pleading voice on "Right Behind You" is nearly perfect. He ramps up his singing to a stronger and more confident height in the anthemic, pop-leaning title track. Mascis recorded this fifth solo album at his Western Massachusetts home studio; the detailed sound excels at sharply defined borders between instruments. He handles almost all the instruments except for piano, played by frequent collaborator Ken Mauri, and the pedal steel guitar, played by Matthew "Doc" Dunn. Willing to tone down the clamor as a solo act, J Mascis shows what was behind the volume all along. © Robert Baird/Qobuz