"Mosquitoes can enjoy me/ I can't go inside," Mitski sings—lulls—on "Buffalo Replaced," a bottom-heavy grunge ballad from her seventh album that finds the singer revealing a nagging self-vexation. "I have a hope/ Though she's blind with no name/ She shits where she's supposed to feed herself when I'm away/ Sometimes I think it would be easier without her." Like Tori Amos, Kate Bush, or Frank Ocean, Mitski has a tendency to reveal so much wildness via a calming presence. Not that the weight isn't heavy; back in 2019, she announced her "last show indefinitely," later admitting that she was worn down by physical and mental exhaustion caused by the music business and its "super-saturated version of consumerism," but also the demands of representation. She has criticized always having her Asian American heritage pointed out; "It's like racism masked in progressive thought … I'm a symbol." Last year she told the BBC: "I needed to step away to get out of that mechanism and just learn how to be human again, I think." That break led Mitski to what she calls "my most American album … This land, which already feels inhospitable to so many of its inhabitants, is about to feel hopelessly torn and tossed again—at times, devoid of love. This album offers the anodyne." Drawing from influences including Ennio Morricone's high-drama spaghetti western scores and Carter Burwell's "tundra-filling Fargo soundtrack," The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We finds Mitski pairing her sometimes dark thoughts with music and sounds—an orchestra arranged and conducted by Drew Erickson, and a 17-voice choir—that convey turmoil. On "When Memories Snow," both piano and Mitski's vocals determine a marching pace while she presents a haunting internal scenario:  "When memories snow/ And cover up the driveway/ I shovel all those memories ... and when memories melt/ I hear them in the drainpipe/ Dripping through the downspout/ As I lie awake in the dark." Then the orchestral tension builds and explodes, horns and strings and choral voices elbowing each other for space. Opener "Bug Like an Angel" starts off like an acoustic campfire nod-along as Mitski sings, "As I got older, I learned I'm a drinker/ Sometimes a drink feels like family"—then, out of nowhere, a full-throated, big as Broadway choir trills "family!" She remains on even keel for "The Deal" as the music swirls like an atmospheric weather system, finally picking up to tornado strength, grabbing everything in its path and tossing it. It's not all chaos, though, as the anodyne settles in. Countrified "Heaven" is light with strings and Cowboy Junkies-esque. "My Love All Mine" is swoony romance, rich and full. And "Star" twinkles and explodes into a supernova, as Mitski convinces that lost love is never completely lost. At the end, "I Love Me After You," there is majesty—big buzz, crashing cymbals—as she performs a self-care routine (hydration, toner, brushing her hair) only to proclaim, "I love me after you/ King of all the land." © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

After the catharsis of 2021's Act 1, Imagine Dragons complete the story with Mercury: Act 2, a whopping 18-track journey that examines the time after the shock and grief of loss has begun to settle. While part one processed those messy emotions with some of the rawest and most vulnerable moments in the band's usual radio- and gym-friendly catalog, part two loses focus by biting off more than they can chew. There are plenty of great songs here -- fully expected for a band as hook-savvy as Imagine Dragons -- but there's simply too much going on and not enough editorial trimming to make this as impactful an experience as Act 1. Starting strong with irresistible singles "Bones" and "Sharks," Act 2 soon takes a turn to the pensive and reflective, with frontman Dan Reynolds lamenting his shortcomings on "I Don't Like Myself" and pleading for relief on "Take It Easy." The second half of the album is weighed down by similar moments, snuffing the momentum of the handful of classic stompers peppered throughout. Of this introspective bunch, the country-dusted acoustic gem "Crushed" is on par with "Wrecked" as a tearjerking standout, as "Sirens" merges the group's usual radio-friendly ear with a deep well of emotion. While the buoyant handclaps-and-synths highlight "Younger" and the riffs-and-breakbeats blazer "Blur" come closest to joining their array of mainstream smashes on a future Greatest Hits set, the bulk of Act 2 is truly for the dedicated fans who care to patiently sit with Reynolds and his feelings until everyone's ready to pump out a more focused and immediate set. [Compiling both parts on Mercury: Acts 1 & 2, the band presents the full experience across an expansive 32 tracks, which joins Act 1 and 2 as well as the hit single "Enemy" with JID from the Arcane League of Legends soundtrack.]© Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo

An explosive debut, and the hardest mod pop recorded by anyone. At the time of its release, it also had the most ferociously powerful guitars and drums yet captured on a rock record. Pete Townshend's exhilarating chord crunches and guitar distortions threaten to leap off the grooves on "My Generation" and "Out in the Street"; Keith Moon attacks the drums with a lightning, ruthless finesse throughout. Some "Maximum R&B" influence lingered in the two James Brown covers, but much of Townshend's original material fused Beatlesque hooks and power chords with anthemic mod lyrics, with "The Good's Gone," "Much Too Much," "La La La Lies," and especially "The Kids Are Alright" being highlights. "A Legal Matter" hinted at more ambitious lyrical concerns, and "The Ox" was instrumental mayhem that pushed the envelope of 1965 amplification with its guitar feedback and nonstop crashing drum rolls. While the execution was sometimes crude, and the songwriting not as sophisticated as it would shortly become, the Who never surpassed the pure energy level of this record.© Richie Unterberger /TiVo

Zappa in New York was recorded in December 1976 at the Palladium and originally intended for release in 1977. It was held up due to arguments between Frank Zappa and his then-record label, Warner Bros. When the two-LP set finally appeared in March 1978, Warner had deleted "Punky's Whips," a song about drummer Terry Bozzio's attraction to Punky Meadows of Angel. The Zappa band, which includes bassist Patrick O'Hearn, percussionist Ruth Underwood, and keyboard player Eddie Jobson, along with a horn section including the two Brecker brothers, was one of the bandleader's most accomplished, which it had to be to play songs like "Black Page," even in the "easy" version presented here. Zappa also was at the height of his comic stagecraft, notably on songs like "Titties & Beer," which is essentially a comedy routine between Zappa and Bozzio, and "The Illinois Enema Bandit," which features TV announcer Don Pardo.© William Ruhlmann /TiVo

Blessed with an intuitive genius that illuminated his entire career, Ray Charles sensed that country music and the blues had a common soul that he could touch with his expressive voice and natural gifts for phrasing. Having left Atlantic Records for the ABC label where he was guaranteed artistic freedom, Charles decided to step through the looking glass; in the middle of the civil rights movement he turned country music into lush, R&B-influenced 60s pop, blurring racial and artistic barriers in the process. As proof of his success, the single, “I Can’t Stop Loving You” (written by white country star Don Gibson) spent five weeks at #1 on the pop charts and sixteen weeks at #1 on the R&B charts before winning the 1962 Grammy Award for Best Rhythm and Blues Recording.  As fresh today as when they were recorded, no context is required to appreciate these sublime tracks, which have now been combined into a single package.  Charles knew a hit song when he heard it and he convincingly transformed a well-known track like Hank Williams’ “Your Cheating Heart” into a sweet, sexy ballad that seems as right as the original.  For instrumental backup, Charles used two modes: strings and vocal choir by arranger Marty Paich for ballads like “I Can’t Stop Loving You” and punchier swing band arrangements by famed composer/arranger Gerald Wilson for tracks like “Hey Good Lookin’.” While a snappy, brass-led version of Williams’ “Move it Over” is a revelation, the utterly transformative version of one of country music’s most storied touchstones, “You Are My Sunshine,” featuring Charles in full Atlantic-era R&B mode—complete with Raelettes—is spectacular.  One of the finest moments in an acclaimed career, the expansive vision and charismatic vocals heard here are still breathtaking. © Robert Baird / Qobuz

Keeping in line with the band's past stylistic shifts, Coming Home, the fourth set from Falling in Reverse, is another shift in trajectory. Taking the template from their metalcore debut and the production flourishes from Just Like You, album number four strikes a solid balance that is tailor-made for the wide range of tastes in an average Warped Tour crowd. Less brutal than Motionless in White and more melodic like Hands Like Houses or late-era Bring Me the Horizon, Coming Home also includes faint hints of more veteran bands like the Used ("Loser"), Silversun Pickups (indeed, on the "Panic Switch"-swiping "The Departure"), and pop-punk vets blink-182 and Simple Plan ("Paparazzi"), creating an exciting blend of styles that prevents the collection from ever seeming stagnant or indistinguishable. Matured -- however slightly -- and focused, Coming Home is an FiR production, but it's still the Ronnie Radke show. While his personality has managed to overshadow much of the band's history, he's also the primary draw that has kept fans devoted and patient, especially considering the cringe-worthy sophomore misstep, Fashionably Late. Given their track record, this is a surprisingly listenable and emotive album, layering a wall of guitars, pounding drums, atmospheric textures, and a decent mix of bloody screaming and gang choruses. The lineup for this release -- guitarists Derek Jones and Christian Thompson, bassist Zakk Sandler, and drummer Ryan Seaman -- creates a cohesive base for Radke's musings. Whether he's showing genuine vulnerability on the expansive title track (dedicated to his young daughter) or flipping both fingers to his critics ("Right Now"), Radke lets it all out, encouraging listeners to feel the same cathartic release. He lashes out with "Fuck You and All Your Friends" and "I Hate Everyone" -- excoriating himself as many times as he spits in everyone else's faces -- and displays newfound self-awareness, singing "I'm not a bad guy, it's just my reputation is fucked" on "Right Now." Yet it's never a downer and the album propels with rocket-ship energy. On the album cover, an astronaut returns home, as seen in a reflection on his helmet. In a sense, Coming Home is Radke returning to Earth after all these years (and albums) lost in space, finally recognizing that he needs to bring it down a few levels of atmosphere to connect with his earthling fans.© Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo

The '70s gave us a slew of classic hard rock albums and though it hasn't had the lasting influence of, say, Boston's or Aerosmith's first albums, Montrose's eponymous debut proved equally influential and important in its day. Released in 1973, the record also introduced a young Sammy Hagar and his powerful vocals to the world, but the explosive aggression of Ronnie Montrose's biting guitar left no doubt as to why it was his name gracing the cover. A rock-solid rhythm section featuring drummer Denny Carmassi and bassist Bill Church certainly didn't hurt either, and unstoppable anthems such as "Rock the Nation" and their rowdy take on the jump blues chesnut "Good Rockin' Tonight" would lay the ground rules for an entire generation of late-'70s California bands, most notably Van Halen. The simple production techniques of Ted Templeman, who went on to work extensively with Van Halen, really lets the players shine and no amount of time can dim the sheer euphoria of "Bad Motor Scooter," the adolescent nastiness of "Rock Candy," and the simply gargantuan main riff of the phenomenal "Space Station #5." Montrose is a blast from start to finish and remains an essential addition to any collection of '70s hard rock and early heavy metal.© Eduardo Rivadavia /TiVo

Though it remains the only Rolling Stones outtakes collection album ever to be officially released, Metamorphosis is one of those albums that has been slighted by almost everyone who has touched it, a problem that lies in its genesis. While both the Stones and former manager Allen Klein agreed that some form of archive release was necessary, if only to stem the then-ongoing flow of bootlegs, they could not agree how to present it. Of the two, the band's own version of the album, compiled by Bill Wyman, probably came closest to the fan's ideal, cherrypicking the vaults for some of the more legendary outtakes and oddities for a bird's-eye view of the entire band's creative brilliance. Klein, on the other hand, chose to approach the issue from the songwriting point-of-view, focusing on the wealth of demos for songs that Jagger/Richards gave away (usually to artists being produced by Andrew Oldham) and which, therefore, frequently featured more session men than Rolling Stones. Both approaches had their virtues, but when Klein's version of the album became the one that got the green light, of course fans and collectors bemoaned the non-availability of the other. The fact is, if Wyman's selection had been released, then everyone would have been crying out for Klein's. Sometimes, you just can't win. So, rather than wring your hands over what you don't receive, you should celebrate what you do. A heavily orchestrated version of "Out of Time," with Jagger accompanying the backing track that would later give Chris Farlowe a U.K. number one hit, opens the show; a loose-limbed "Memo From Turner," recorded with Al Kooper, closes it. No complaints there, then. The real meat, however, lies in between times. During 1964-1965, Mick Jagger and Andrew Oldham headed a session team that also included the likes of arrangers Art Greenslade and Mike Leander, guitarist Jimmy Page, pianist Nicky Hopkins, bassist John Paul Jones, and many more, convened to cut demos for the plethora of songs then being churned out by Jagger and Keith Richards. Some would subsequently be redone by the Stones themselves; others, however, would be used as backing tracks for other artist's versions of the songs. Metamorphosis pulls a number of tracks from this latter grouping, and while "Each and Every Day of the Year" (covered by Bobby Jameson), "I'd Much Rather Be With the Boys" (the Toggery Five), "Some Things Just Stick in Your Mind" (Vashti), "Sleepy City" (the Mighty Avengers), and "We're Wasting Time" (Jimmy Tarbuck) may not be Stones performances per se, they are certainly Stones songs and, for the most part, as strong as any of the band originals included on the group's first four or five LPs. Elsewhere, the 1964 Chess studio outtake "Don't Lie to Me" is as fine a Chuck Berry cover as the Stones ever mustered, while "Family," the rocking "Jiving Sister Fanny," Bill Wyman's "Downtown Suzie," and a delightfully lackadaisical version of Stevie Wonder's "I Don't Know Why" are outtakes from two of the Stones' finest-ever albums, Beggars Banquet and Let It Bleed. All of which adds up to an impressive pedigree, whatever the circumstances behind the album, and whatever else could have been included on it. Indeed, if there are any criticisms to be made, it is that the album sleeve itself is singularly uninformative, and the contents are seriously jumbled. But those are its only sins. Everything else you've heard about it is simply wishful (or otherwise) thinking. © Dave Thompson /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

If there's one word that comes to mind while listening to 2018's The Capitol Studio Sessions -- the debut album from part-time jazz pianist and full-time Jeff Goldblum impersonator Jeff Goldblum -- it's charm. Joking aside, just as with his acting, Goldblum's musical stage presence percolates with his unmistakable charisma, and further cements his long-standing persona as a witty, quirky, gregarious presence. While the album often feels like Goldblum giving one big wink and a smile to his adoring fans after another, part of the fun is that he has the chops to back it up. Having studied piano growing up in Pittsburgh and played lounge gigs throughout much of his career, Goldblum is certainly a gifted performer. While he hands much of the improvisational work over to his bandmates, as a bandleader he acquits himself ably throughout the album, with a warm harmonic sensibility and wonderfully swinging style on full display. Here, he is captured live at the storied Capitol Studios in Los Angeles, backed by his longtime ensemble of studio-pros the Mildred Snitzer Orchestra (lovingly named after a family friend in Pittsburgh). Joining him are a select cadre of special guests including singers Haley Reinhart and Imelda May, trumpeter Till Bronner, and on the giddy, self-referential duet "Me and My Shadow," singer/comedian Sarah Silverman. While Goldblum is the main attraction, he smartly spreads the spotlight, allowing Reinhart and May to sashay their ways through saucy renditions of "My Baby Just Cares For Me," "Straighten Up and Fly Right," and "Come-On-A-My-House." Similarly, he gives Bronner a plethora of solo time, with tracks like the ballad "It Never Entered My Mind," and the organ-accented groover "Don't Mess with Mister T.” One of the many impressive aspects of the Capitol Studio Sessions is just how balanced Goldblum's skills are as he deftly moves his audience from perky vocal standards to swinging instrumental numbers -- each transition aided, of course, with some very charming stage banter.© Matt Collar /TiVo

Prefab Sprout was always too good for the radio. Hearing the band's immaculate, gorgeously crafted pop songs alongside disposable, unimaginative records seemed like blasphemy. Perhaps many American radio programmers felt the same way, as most of this best-of compilation is obscure to U.S. listeners. While Two Wheels Good and From Langley Park to Memphis are superior purchases, A Life of Surprises is an engaging introduction to a group that is nowhere near as bizarre as its name. Much has been said about Paddy McAloon's warm, comforting voice, but like Paul Heaton of the Housemartins and the Beautiful South, his soothing croon can sometimes hide some pretty depressing lyrics. "When Love Breaks Down" is classic '80s new wave heartache: teary-eyed synthesizers, downtrodden basslines, and McAloon's whispery talk create a film noir atmosphere of deep sadness. The lyrics are sharpened by his adult observations. "When love breaks down/You join the wrecks/Who leave their hearts for easy sex," McAloon sings. The brutal honesty of those lines easily elevate "When Love Breaks Down" to the top class of breakup songs. Even more powerful is "Goodbye Lucille No. 1 (Johnny Johnny)," sung from the perspective of a man trying to make a close friend get over a girl who has rejected him. The words are frank and painfully realistic as McAloon doesn't sugarcoat the dialogue. McAloon rips into his buddy's futile romantic fantasies and lets the hard light of reality shine upon him: "Ooh Johnny Johnny Johnny you won't make it any better/Ooh Johnny Johnny Johnny you might well make it worse." If this sounds dreary it should be noted that Prefab Sprout isn't one of those grim British raincoat bands. The group has a number of wonderfully upbeat moments, such as on the exhilarating "Hey Manhattan!" and "Cars and Girls," a clever commentary on Bruce Springsteen's preoccupation with automobiles and women.© Michael Sutton /TiVo

The '70s gave us a slew of classic hard rock albums and though it hasn't had the lasting influence of, say, Boston's or Aerosmith's first albums, Montrose's eponymous debut proved equally influential and important in its day. Released in 1973, the record also introduced a young Sammy Hagar and his powerful vocals to the world, but the explosive aggression of Ronnie Montrose's biting guitar left no doubt as to why it was his name gracing the cover. A rock-solid rhythm section featuring drummer Denny Carmassi and bassist Bill Church certainly didn't hurt either, and unstoppable anthems such as "Rock the Nation" and their rowdy take on the jump blues chesnut "Good Rockin' Tonight" would lay the ground rules for an entire generation of late-'70s California bands, most notably Van Halen. The simple production techniques of Ted Templeman, who went on to work extensively with Van Halen, really lets the players shine and no amount of time can dim the sheer euphoria of "Bad Motor Scooter," the adolescent nastiness of "Rock Candy," and the simply gargantuan main riff of the phenomenal "Space Station #5." Montrose is a blast from start to finish and remains an essential addition to any collection of '70s hard rock and early heavy metal.© Eduardo Rivadavia /TiVo