David Crosby's debut solo album was the second release in a trilogy of albums (the others being Paul Kantner's Blows Against the Empire and Mickey Hart's Rolling Thunder) involving the indefinite aggregation of Bay Area friends and musical peers that informally christened itself the Planet Earth Rock and Roll Orchestra. Everyone from the members of the Grateful Dead and Jefferson Airplane to Crosby's mates in CSNY, Neil Young and Graham Nash, dropped by the studio to make significant contributions to the proceedings. (Jerry Garcia, Phil Lesh, and Bill Kreutzman, primarily, act as the ad hoc studio band, with other notables adding bits of flavor to other individual tracks.) Crosby, however, is the obvious captain of this ship. With his ringing, velvety voice -- the epitome of hippie crooning -- and inspired songwriting, he turns If I Could Only Remember My Name into a one-shot wonder of dreamy but ominous California ambience. The songs range from brief snapshots of inspiration (the angelic chorale-vocal showcase on "Orleans" and the a cappella closer, "I'd Swear There Was Somebody Here") to the full-blown, rambling Western epic "Cowboy Movie," and there are absolutely no false notes struck or missteps taken. No one before or since has gotten as much mileage out of a wordless vocal as Crosby does on "Tamalpais High (At About 3)" and "Song with No Words (Tree with No Leaves)," and because the music is so relaxed, each song turns into its own panoramic vista. Those who don't go for trippy Aquarian sentiment, however, may be slightly put off by the obscure, cosmic storytelling of the gorgeous "Laughing" or the ambiguous (but pointed) social questioning of "What Are Their Names," but in actuality it is an incredibly focused album. There is little or no fat despite the general looseness of the undertaking, while a countercultural intensity runs taut through the entire album, and ultimately there is no denying the excellence of the melodies and the messy beauty of the languid, loping instrumental backing. Even when a song as pretty as "Traction in the Rain" shimmers with its picked guitars and autoharp, the album is coated in a distinct, persistent menace that is impossible to shake. It is a shame that Crosby would continue to descend throughout the remainder of the decade and the beginning of the next into aimless drug addiction, and that he would not issue another solo album until 18 years later. As it is, If I Could Only Remember My Name is a shambolic masterpiece, meandering but transcendently so, full of frayed threads. Not only is it among the finest splinter albums out of the CSNY diaspora, it is one of the defining moments of hung-over spirituality from the era.© Stanton Swihart /TiVo

In 1967 the world hadn’t fully digested the Doors’ astounding first album that they had already released Strange Days. Strange like these compositions that sounded like no other. Staggering, often dreamlike themes. And while Jim Morrison sang that people were strange, the same could be said about his Doors: incessant changes in rhythm, lyrics going back and forth between social critic and complete madness, and huge gaps between total trance and cabaret ballads… Months went by and Morrison was growing more and more out of control. In early 1968, the Doors nevertheless started working on their Waiting for the Sun. There are many anecdotes about these most chaotic weeks. Yet, upon its release in July, in the midst of the Vietnam War, fans appropriated pacifist anthem The Unknown Soldier and perky Hello, I Love You that opens this third album and propelled it to the top of the charts. Well aware of their leader’s unstable state, Ray Manzarek, Robby Krieger and John Densmore remained focused to create original and inspired parts. A notch below the two previous albums, Waiting for the Sun however approaches psychedelic music with the same unwavering originality. The use of acoustic instruments and refinement of some arrangements confirm the uniqueness of this band, even though it was on the verge of imploding…In celebration of the album’s 50th anniversary, this deluxe edition offers a new version of the album’s stereo mix, remastered by Bruce Botnick, the Doors’ long-time sound engineer and producer. Without omitting 14 bonus tracks: nine come from recently discovered rough mixes and five originate from a concert in Copenhagen in December 1968. The new stereo mix for Waiting for the Sun, remastered by Botnick, gives a new dimension to songs like The Unknown Soldier and Spanish Caravan. As for the rough mixes, his opinion is clear: “I prefer some of these rough mixes to the finals, as they represent all of the elements and additional background vocals, different sensibilities on balances, and some intangible roughness, all of which are quite attractive and refreshing”. © Max Dembo/Qobuz

As the second album to document the second Mahavishnu Orchestra, this one isn't as, well, apocalyptic as its predecessor, yet it does focus more intently on the band itself. Jean-Luc Ponty's curling electric violin lines help give this Mahavishnu band a more European sound than its predecessor, and some of the orchestral concepts of Apocalypse work their way into the picture via comments by a string trio and trumpet/sax duo. This band also had some interest in a bombastic funk direction that may have been borrowed from Mr. "Chameleon" Herbie Hancock, and would later be followed by Mahavishnu Two's drummer, Michael Walden. Gayle Moran's ethereal vocals don't date as badly as those on many jazz-rock records; at least she can sing. Overall, this Mahavishnu edition is more refined and not as aggressive as the first -- although they could charge ahead pretty hard, as "Be Happy" and "On the Way Home to Earth" demonstrate -- yet they were still capable of making memorable electric music.© Richard S. Ginell /TiVo

In the year of his 90th birthday (which he would have celebrated on the 23rd of September 2020 had he not died in 2004), Ray Charles is honoured with a new 90-track compilation box set. Just another compilation like all the rest? Yes and no. Ray Charles is undoubtedly one of the most-compiled artists in the history of music. Published by Tangerine, the label that the musician set up at the end of the 50s to keep the rights to his songs, this box set starts out like all the others: with the post-Atlantic hits, Georgia On My Mind, Hit The Road Jack, One Mint Julep, Busted... These are timeless treasures of proto-soul, but there doesn't seem to be much novelty here. The rest is much more interesting, and much rarer: tracks recorded between the second half of the 1960s and the 2000s, many of which were only released on vinyl, never reissued on CD and until now unavailable on digital. This is the first time that Ray Charles' lesser-known years have been given the compilation treatment in this way, and it is a revelation. In the 90s and 2000s, the production of his songs had a synthetic feel, and they did not age too well. These rarer songs are often hidden gems of southern soul, flavoured with country and wrapped in sumptuous symphonic orchestrations. Whether he is singing the Muppets (It's Ain't Easy Being Green) or Gershwin (Summertime, a duet with Cleo Laine), Ray Charles is always deeply moving. Now, the dream is to hear reissues of all these albums in their entirety. © Stéphane Deschamps/Qobuz

In 1967 the world hadn’t fully digested the Doors’ astounding first album that they had already released Strange Days. Strange like these compositions that sounded like no other. Staggering, often dreamlike themes. And while Jim Morrison sang that people were strange, the same could be said about his Doors: incessant changes in rhythm, lyrics going back and forth between social critic and complete madness, and huge gaps between total trance and cabaret ballads… Months went by and Morrison was growing more and more out of control. In early 1968, the Doors nevertheless started working on their Waiting for the Sun. There are many anecdotes about these most chaotic weeks. Yet, upon its release in July, in the midst of the Vietnam War, fans appropriated pacifist anthem The Unknown Soldier and perky Hello, I Love You that opens this third album and propelled it to the top of the charts. Well aware of their leader’s unstable state, Ray Manzarek, Robby Krieger and John Densmore remained focused to create original and inspired parts. A notch below the two previous albums, Waiting for the Sun however approaches psychedelic music with the same unwavering originality. The use of acoustic instruments and refinement of some arrangements confirm the uniqueness of this band, even though it was on the verge of imploding… © Max Dembo/Qobuz

A superb album, arguably their finest, though not their biggest, crossover work. The Spinners teamed with Thom Bell and outpaced Motown with this album of glorious anthems. "I'll Be Around" and "Could It Be I'm Falling in Love" ended any discussions, mentions, or even thoughts of their former lead singer G.C. Cameron, as Philippe Wynne was emerging as the king of immaculate, sophisticated soul. They had three R&B chart-toppers from this album and were now dominating the Motown acts they once idolized.© Ron Wynn /TiVo

Another typically wonderful LP of Ella Fitzgerald in her prime, Fitzgerald is joined by pianist Lou Levy, guitarist Herb Ellis, bassist Joe Mondragon, and drummer Stan Levey. Fitzgerald is in fine form on such numbers as "A Night in Tunisia," an emotional "You're My Thrill," "Jersey Bounce," and "Clap Hands! Here Comes Charlie." Although not reaching the heights of her live performances, this is an excellent (and somewhat underrated) set. © Scott Yanow /TiVo

After four years on Roulette, Sarah Vaughan returned to Mercury (her main label of the 1950s) with this wonderful live session, one of her very best of the 1960s. Joined by her rhythm section of the period (pianist Kirk Stuart, bassist Charles Williams and drummer Georges Hughes), Vaughan is quite expressive on such signature tunes as "Misty," "Sometimes I'm Happy," "Tenderly" and "I Cried For You." A gem.© Scott Yanow /TiVo

George Martin stopped working America as the '70s became the '80s. Truth be told, it probably wasn't that painful of a departure. The time had come to part ways with Martin -- not only had they spent a decade with the celebrity producer, they were moving toward a slick, radio-ready adult contemporary direction that was entirely too calculated for Martin. So, they split, and Sir George effectively went into retirement while America worked with Matthew McCauley and Fred Mollin for 1980's Alibi. Essentially, the album picks up where Silent Letter left off, meaning that it's a set of pleasant soft pop, but it's slicker and slighter than its predecessor. That's not to say that it's without moments; like its predecessor, Alibi opens strongly with a pair of winners ("Survival," "Might Be Your Love"), and there are moments (such as "You Could've Been the One" or "Right Back to Me," which has a nice, bouncy chorus) that deliver later in the album. Still, it meanders fast and it meanders far, even into such ridiculous territory as the faux hard rock (in the sense that the Eagles' "Life in the Fast Lane" is hard rock) of "Hangover," whose lyrics are at least worth a chuckle or two. Ultimately, Alibi suffers from not only its uneven material, but from the production, which is nowhere near as invitingly lush as Silent Letter. Nevertheless, McCauley and Mollin's production does sound exactly like MOR radio in 1980, and fans of that era may find this to be an enjoyable artifact, even with its flaws. Nevertheless, Alibi doesn't qualify as one of America's better latter-day efforts (even though it's certainly not one of their worst). They did this sound better on the subsequent View From the Ground.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

The Spinners' installment in Warner's Essentials series is a first-class, concise collection of the group's biggest hits. Sure, with a band whose catalog is as rich as this, there are bound to be album tracks and smaller hits left by the wayside, but the heavy-hitters are all here -- "I'll Be Around," "Could It Be I'm Falling in Love," "One of a Kind (Love Affair)," "Ghetto Child," "Mighty Love, Pt. 1," "Then Came You," "The Rubberband Man," etc. -- making this a fine choice for the casual fan, or for those needing an introduction to one of the greatest soul groups of all time.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

In 1967 the world hadn’t fully digested the Doors’ astounding first album that they had already released Strange Days. Strange like these compositions that sounded like no other. Staggering, often dreamlike themes. And while Jim Morrison sang that people were strange, the same could be said about his Doors: incessant changes in rhythm, lyrics going back and forth between social critic and complete madness, and huge gaps between total trance and cabaret ballads… Months went by and Morrison was growing more and more out of control. In early 1968, the Doors nevertheless started working on their Waiting for the Sun. There are many anecdotes about these most chaotic weeks. Yet, upon its release in July, in the midst of the Vietnam War, fans appropriated pacifist anthem The Unknown Soldier and perky Hello, I Love You that opens this third album and propelled it to the top of the charts. Well aware of their leader’s unstable state, Ray Manzarek, Robby Krieger and John Densmore remained focused to create original and inspired parts. A notch below the two previous albums, Waiting for the Sun however approaches psychedelic music with the same unwavering originality. The use of acoustic instruments and refinement of some arrangements confirm the uniqueness of this band, even though it was on the verge of imploding… © Max Dembo/Qobuz