Probably the first album to successfully merge the seemingly disparate sounds of rap and heavy metal, Rage Against the Machine's self-titled debut was groundbreaking enough when released in 1992, but many would argue that it has yet to be surpassed in terms of influence and sheer brilliance -- though countless bands have certainly tried. This is probably because the uniquely combustible creative relationship between guitar wizard Tom Morello and literate rebel vocalist Zack de la Rocha could only burn this bright, this once. While the former's roots in '80s heavy metal shredding gave rise to an inimitable array of six-string acrobatics and rhythmic special effects (few of which anyone else has managed to replicate), the latter delivered meaningful rhymes with an emotionally charged conviction that suburban white boys of the ensuing nu-metal generation could never hope to touch. As a result, syncopated slabs of hard rock insurrection like "Bombtrack," "Take the Power Back," and "Know Your Enemy" were as instantly unforgettable as they were astonishing. Yet even they paled in comparison to veritable clinics in the art of slowly mounting tension such as "Settle for Nothing," "Bullet in the Head," and the particularly venomous "Wake Up" (where Morello revises Led Zeppelin's "Kashmir" riff for his own needs) -- all of which finally exploded with awesome power and fury. And even listeners who were unable (or unwilling) to fully process the band's unique clash of muscle and intellect were catered to, as RATM were able to convey their messages through stubborn repetition via the fundamental challenge of "Freedom" and their signature track, "Killing in the Name," which would become a rallying cry of disenfranchisement, thanks to its relentlessly rebellious mantra of "Fuck you, I won't do what you tell me!" Ultimately, if there's any disappointment to be had with this near-perfect album, it's that it still towers above subsequent efforts as the unequivocal climax of Rage Against the Machine's vision. As such, it remains absolutely essential.© Eduardo Rivadavia /TiVo

It's hard to overstate how much the songs of Jagged Little Pill — released on feminist pioneer Madonna's Maverick label at a moment when Hootie & the Blowfish and the theme from Friends were anesthetizing America — shook up pop radio in 1995. No one was prepared for first single "You Oughta Know," which stormed into ubiquity in a blaze of raw fury aimed at a "Mr. Duplicity" who rebounded too soon. Often mis-characterized as pure vengeance, the dynamics-propelled rocker (with bass and guitar from Flea and Dave Navarro, then of the Red Hot Chili Peppers) was really about being forthright and staking a claim to un-pretty feelings: "And every time you speak her name/ Does she know how you told me/ You'd hold me until you died." Of course, Morissette had no choice but to be divisive. From the album's opener "All I Really Want," you'll know if you love or hate her voice, with its affected tics and shrieks. Let it also be said that Jagged Little Pill is not an album for those who find harmonica grating, and that jaunty hit "Ironic" may drive literalists crazy with its litany of inconveniences ("It's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife"). But it's that lack of self-consciousness from Morissette (19 years old at the time) that makes songs such as the grungy "Forgiven" — a defiance against patriarchal Catholic guilt — and self-empowerment bop "You Learn" a clarion call of independence for young women looking to ditch fear. It also let her create a completely new sound that didn't draw directly from typical female influences (save for the folksy "Hand In My Pocket", which comes on like the spiritual descendent of Edie Brickell's "What I Am") and left a mold for countless female artists after. © Qobuz

In 2002, the members of Coldplay were still in the midst of their ascent, riding the breakthrough success of their sleepy debut, which established wide-eyed vulnerability and earnestness as an indelible part of their image. Soft and soothing, the precious Parachutes set them up for a lifetime of inaccurate comparisons to Radiohead, even though the similarities started and ended with The Bends. And just like Radiohead, they quickly evolved into another beast altogether: plugging in the guitars, amplifying the bombast, tattooing their hearts on their sleeves, and shooting for the arena rafters in a fashion more similar to U2. Their sophomore effort, A Rush of Blood to the Head, made the message clear within the first seconds of the intense opener "Politik." As Will Champion's drums crash, Jonny Buckland's guitar swells, and Guy Berryman's bass churns, frontman Chris Martin bursts through the Wall of Sound, jolting listeners awake with the desperate cry, "Open up your eyes!" Angsty and urgent, songs like "Politik" and the title track introduced fresh elements into the Coldplay repertoire, expanding their emotional palette and showing critics that they could really rock when they wanted to. This was the sound of a new Coldplay, one that developed confidence, a voice, and a budding imagination to separate themselves from the Travises and Elbows of the world. The aggressive wallop of "God Put a Smile upon Your Face" -- a live staple and fan-favorite single -- typified the trademark sound of the era, combining Champion and Berryman's groove with Buckland's outer-space noodling, a style that they'd blast into the stratosphere on the follow-up effort, X&Y. Along with "Daylight" and "A Whisper," the track helped establish Coldplay as an arena rock presence, pulling them out of the indie-dwelling bedroom and onto the big stage. From that platform, Coldplay also delivered three of their most enduring and beloved singles: the sparkling "In My Place," the weepy ballad "The Scientist," and the piano-kissed showstopper "Clocks." With A Rush of Blood to the Head, Coldplay pulled back the curtains to reveal a robust and energized unit, one that would soon conquer the mainstream with a steady evolution into the world of pop. At this moment -- before issuing the two highest-selling albums in the world in 2005 and 2008 and becoming an international stadium sell-out presence -- Coldplay were coming to grips with their music's power and possibility, a young band hungry, bright-eyed, and primed for stardom.© Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo

Produced by Rick Rubin, Johnny Cash’s legendary American recordings are not only among his major musical statements, but also its moving final will. Released in November 2002, American IV – The Man Comes Around is the last volume of the collection that was released while Cash was still alive (He passed away 10 months after its release). Using the famous “cover” recipe, Johnny Cash managed in this record to turn other musicians’ compositions, sometimes recent work, into his own unique style. Nine Inch Nails, Depeche Mode, and Sting are all covered, and when listening to Cash’s rendition of their songs it is sometimes difficult to recall their original versions. As usual, Rubin’s work on the soundboard is devoted to Johnny Cash’s voice. Caught it its last whispers, the voice is haunting, yet never morose.Indeed, the voice is key in “American IV”.  The material can bring chills (the video clip of Hurt is deeply moving and, after listening to the track, Trent Reznor proclaimed “It’s like I have lost my girlfriend. This song doesn’t belong to me anymore…”), Give My Love To Rose evokes a sadness that is a strike at the heart, and I Hung My Head expresses an innocence that is profoundly tender. Even when he deals with the classic repertoire of country music, many that he recorded in the past (Sam Hall, Give My Love To Rose, I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry, Streets of Laredo, Danny Boy) the Man in Black brings to his interpretation the sorrow and sensitivity of his dying condition, always with grace and dignity. A sad yet festive funeral, the record includes many featured guest artists: Fiona Apple and Nick Cave sing, John Frusciante of the Red Hot Chili Peppers and Marty Stuart strum their guitars, old partner Cowboy Jack Clement pulls out his dobro, Joey Waronker abandons Beck and Air to join in the rhythm section, and Benmont Tench brings in an array of keyboards including an organ, harmonium, Mellotron, vibraphone and even a Wurlitzer. Music lovers from all over the world recognized what a masterpiece American IV – The Man Comes Around had been created, and its reception led it to be a gold record, which was Johnny Cash’s first in thirty years. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

This is U2 following in the footsteps of David Bowie. Like the Heroes singer, who moved to Berlin in 1976 to find fresh inspiration, Bono, The Edge, Adam Clayton and Larry Mullen went to the German capital in 1990 to write their seventh album. With the wall having fallen a year earlier, there was an atmosphere of freedom, and indeed of chaos. Produced by Brian Eno and Daniel Lanois, Achtung Baby blends these two moods, both in content and form. Musically, it is more experimental, industrial and electronic than in the band's previous albums, although it retains a certain lyricism. As for the lyrics, they meet the Irish group’s usual standard, transcending their sentimental themes to evoke human relationships more generally (So Cruel, Even Better Than the Real Thing, Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses). Unification is at the heart of some tracks, starting with the famous One. But here again, Bono brings a universal outlook.This Berlin exile was not ideal from an artistic point of view and they finished Achtung Baby at home, in Irish studios. However, traces of Germany can be felt in some of the songs, starting with Zoo Station, a reference to the Zoologischer Garten underground station. The rocking Until the End of The World was written for the film of the same name by German director Wim Wenders. It is a fictional conversation between Jesus and Judas, carried by a powerful guitar solo by The Edge. Eno summed up U2's European album as follows: “Buzzwords on this record were trashy, throwaway, dark, sexy and industrial (all good) and earnest, polite, sweet, righteous, rockiest and linear (all bad).” In addition to the remastered version of Achtung Baby, this 30th Anniversary Edition includes 22 previously unreleased songs and many remixes. © Nicolas Magenham/Qobuz

The hyperactive Ariana Grande is back with thank u, next, just seven months after the release of Sweetener. And, most importantly, following the fatal overdose of British rapper Mac Miller, her ex-boyfriend. With this title, following a brief romance with comedian Pete Davidson, Ariana reinforces her image as a strong woman, despite her young age (25 years old) and her career’s past hardships. Pop music caramelised with some R&B, the twelve tracks of this fifth album − produced to perfection by Tommy Brown − forthrightly lift the veil on her former relationships. With her four-octave voice, the mini Mariah Carey, also known as Ari, is walking in the footsteps of Mimi in the 1990s and 2000s, and it shows (NASA)! And for a whiff of soul, she even dares sample Wendy Rene’s soul-crushing After Laughter (“After laughter comes tears”) on fake smile and adds the perfect amount of brass on bloodline. Shattering streaming records, the pop star knows how to surround herself and even co-wrote thank u, next with Victoria Monét. © Charlotte Saintoin/Qobuz

This eighth album from The National is refreshingly different, somewhat modifying the well-oiled mechanics of this American band. First and foremost, this is achieved through the presence of several female singers who support the leader Matt Berninger on most of the tracks. The most memorable are the performances of Gail Ann Dorsey (David Bowie’s bassist) on Had Your Soul With You, as well as the particularly poignant performances of Lisa Hannigan and Mina Tindle on So Far So East and Oblivions respectively, the latter being especially moving. Why this sudden feminine presence for an exclusively male band? It’s likely because the album was conceived after filmmaker Mike Mills asked The National to put his short film I Am Easy to Find into song form - a film which happens to be centred around a woman. It’s this relationship to images that has somewhat upended the Brooklyn band’s pop formula. There are a few references to some classics of cinema, chiefly Roman Holiday by William Wyler (1953). But apart from the new cinematic release, fans of The National will still find the legendary melancholy of the group in both the lyrics and the music. The presence of heart-wrenching strings on all the tracks (with the exception of the staccato violins on Where Is Her Head) as well as a recurring introspective piano (notably in the beautiful Light Years) will particularly be remembered. Bryan Devendorf’s singular rhythms plays on contrasts, occasionally making striking jerks (Rylan, The Pull of You) as well as adding a sensual flair (Hairpin Turns, I Am Easy to Find). © Nicolas Magenham/Qobuz  

In 2002, five years after Echo, which was already serving as a reboot to their career, the Brandt Brauer Frick entered a new era of their electroacoustic project, this time taking a somewhat artsy turn. First came their interactive Dance Selector clip, with a troupe of contemporary dancers, then the Multi Faith Prayer Room installation at Art Basel Miami, which gave its name to this album. The BBFs asked people around the world about their idea of ​​the future in order “to encourage, in our own way, a positive reflection on the future, far from the rise of populism”. Their answers haunt the interludes (notably FUTURE, with the Catalan singer Marina Herlop) of a record resolutely aimed at the dancefloor.A somewhat retro dancefloor, which would reach its peak in the 90s, as evidenced by titles like This Feeling (feat. Sophie Hunger), the very acid house Dotted Line, the single Act One, showcasing an incredible adventure between acid, rave and mixes performed by Mykki Blanco, or Closer to You, on which the Germans have fun inviting Duane Harden, one of the legends of the house, and the voice of the cult song You Don't Know Me by Armand Van Helden. The rest is pretty much the same, almost as if the Berliners wanted to drown the dystopia in dance. And it worked well. © Smaël Bouaici/Qobuz

Robb Flynn has always been a free spirit, much to the delight of his critics, who never miss an opportunity to find fault with the Machine Head frontman as soon as he puts a foot wrong (or is deemed to have done so, at least). In 2018, Catharsis was criticised for flirting with nu-metal. As you might expect, this cumbersome influence even provoked a rift within the band, as guitarist Phil Demmel and drummer Dave McClain have since departed after many years of loyal service (fifteen and twenty-two years respectively). This bitter setback has seemingly burrowed its way into Flynn’s head, encouraging him to get back to work and create the most convincing Machine Head album since The Blackening (2007). Bursting with solid tracks, both ruthless and catchy in equal measure, Of Kingdom and Crown has everything it needs to bring a large audience together. Naturally, there are some irresistible singles (‘Unhallowed’, ’My Hands Are Empty’, ’No Gods No Masters’), but there are also some real thrashy gems that will pulverise you into submission from the very first bars (‘Become the Firestorm’, ’Choke on the Ashes of Your Hate’, and the almost punky ‘Bloodshot’). Plus, the addition of Vogg (Decapitated) as a second guitarist has given rise to some totally insane guitar riffs.Due to the lockdown, the band had to record the album without their English drummer (Matt Alston), who couldn’t make it to the studio. Instead, they were joined by the incredible Navene Koperweis from Animals As Leaders, and the result is remarkably methodical and displays real finesse. However, the biggest surprise on this tenth album is Robb Flynn’s vocals, which he’s clearly been refining during the health crisis. The fruits of his efforts are simply fantastic; like Corey Taylor in Stone Sour, he’s now able to balance his thunderous voice with much more nuanced emotions without ever resorting to a sugary bluette (this is the guy who wrote ’Davidian’). The vocal harmonies shared with bassist Jared MacEachern are just exemplary, and this new string to Machine Head’s bow gives their sound a whole new level of class and subtlety. ‘Slaughter the Martyr’, which opens the opus, is ten minutes long, though it’s so captivating that you barely notice the time passing. In the same way, Of Kingdom and Crown is an album that’s easy to listen to from start to finish. It constantly keeps things varied and exciting whilst remaining consistently coherent, which is no mean feat. © Charlélie Arnaud/Qobuz

You have to be really sure of your concerts to be able to release a fifth live album after only 18 years career time. But stage performances are such a speciality for Coldplay that Chris Martin's group can allow themselves to release this Live In Buenos Aires album rather an eighth studio album, which is being eagerly awaited their fans... Recorded during the A Head Full of Dreams World Tour, this album captures (with amazing sound quality) the powerful 15th of November (2017) show in the Argentinean capital. As per usual, the four Brits play with the constant participation of a totally devoted crowd. U2 often put on these types of shows, Coldplay being their most obvious successors. From the stadium hymn (Viva La Vida) to the early classics (Yellow, Clocks), Coldplay put on a real electric fiesta. © Clotilde Maréchal/Qobuz

During her 25-year career in the music biz, Kylie Minogue’s ability to re-invent herself and stay current is rivaled only by Madonna’s. Unlike her American counterpart, though, Kylie’s changes never seem desperate, and everything she does exudes a touch of class that makes her shifts seem far more organic. From chirpy teen popper to indie diva to dance-pop heavyweight, every step she’s taken has made perfect sense and in the process, she’s released some of the best pop records of her era. In 2012, as part of her own look back at the highlights of a long and successful career, Kylie and her band went to Abbey Road studios to run through a selection of her biggest hits and best songs. Joined by an array of backing singers and an orchestra, the songs are re-imagined in ways that bring out the underlying emotions behind the glittery pop facades. Stripping the songs down to their basics and then adding strings on top proves to be very effective, especially on “All the Lovers” or “Hand on Your Heart,” and most of the new arrangements are imaginative and sometime inspired. The piano ballad version of “Better the Devil You Know” works very well, as does the sultry trip-hop take on “Slow,” while the strings and vocals on “I Should Be So Lucky” turn the song into a classy '30s musical showstopper. The most interesting reboot takes place on “Can’t Get You Out of My Head” where the insistent strings push the song along with a tightly coiled electricity that is impossible to resist. The only song that really falls flat is the cutesy, Motown-inspired take on “The Locomotion.” Though Kylie may not have the strongest voice around, she has more than enough charm and understated emotional strength to fill the more intimate arrangements with a solid and exceedingly warm center. The album stands as both as a reminder of all the classic pop songs Kylie has released and of her fearless nature. She’s always been willing to take risks, and despite the initial thought that her music may not stand up to the orchestral treatment, The Abbey Road Sessions is another victory in a career full of them.© Tim Sendra /TiVo

There's an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm from 2002 where Alanis Morissette is performing at a benefit concert that's eventually held at Larry David's home, where she sings a stripped-down acoustic arrangement of "You Oughta Know" with guitarist David Levita for an audience of wealthy Hollywood liberals. This may not have been the genesis of her 2005 album Jagged Little Pill Acoustic -- initially for sale only in Starbucks stores, but released to mass retail in late July -- but that performance not only offers a clue to the sound of this acoustic-based reinterpretation of her blockbuster breakthrough, but also to its target audience. Unlike the 1995 original, this is not a dense, glossy pop album that slyly co-opts and repackages ideas from the musical fringe for a mass audience, nor is this akin to her 1999 acoustic album Alanis Unplugged, where Morissette was still sorting out exactly which direction to take in the aftermath of her phenomenal success. Jagged Little Pill Acoustic is the sound of an artist who is comfortable and settled, fondly reminiscing about her crazy past for an audience that is also comfortable and settled. This is sepia-toned music (which is appropriate, since the cover itself is a sepia-toned replication of the original's artwork), with all of the excesses and eccentricities of youth either romanticized or dismissed with a soft chuckle. Alanis marvels at how crazy she was back then, as she and her audience both congratulate themselves on surviving ten years while reflecting on how much they've personally grown in that decade. All of this is captured in the lone lyrical change: "Ironic" now concludes with Alanis meeting the man of her dreams and meeting not his beautiful wife, but his beautiful husband (she's no longer pronouncing "figures" as "figgers," either). This doesn't change the song or its intent, but it does signal that Morissette has a slightly different perspective, one that is self-congratulatory, more tolerant, and more self-consciously urbane. And that pretty much summarizes the music here, too: it's deliberately mature and certainly more tasteful than the original Jagged Little Pill, the kind of music that would sound good playing in, well, the background of a coffee shop. While there are acoustic guitars at the foundation of each of the 12 tracks here (plus the unlisted 13th bonus track), this isn't strictly acoustic, at least by most standards: with original JLP producer Glen Ballard, who never met a production he couldn't overdub a few more times than necessary, on board as well, it's not surprising that Acoustic winds up being a subdued adult alternative pop album filled with strings, keyboards, and production instead of a stark acoustic record. Since Ballard is a pro and since Alanis has lived with these songs long enough to find different, yet comfortable, ways to rephrase these familiar melodies, it's a pleasant enough listen, but it's hard to see the point of the album. That is, unless it is really for the kind of crowd she serenaded in that episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm -- a very satisfied, very comfortable audience that prefers to see the past only through rose-colored glasses that present their history in terms that are more acceptable to who they are now than who they were back then.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

If Paul's Boutique was the album that convincingly proved the Beastie Boys weren't just a beer-soaked novelty rap group, its follow-up was the one that convincingly proved the Beastie Boys weren't just a rap group, period. Check Your Head is a thorough 180 from its predecessor in ways that both broke with recent character.  For starters, it's the least lyrically-driven of their first five albums, and there's not nearly as much ultra-dense sample-collage referentiality.  And, as a roots move, Check Your Head reconnected with an earlier version of themselves from their primordial hardcore punk beginnings. Picking up their old instruments and jamming out short-fast-loud riff-rap outbursts not only reintroduced the Beasties of ten years previous to their already freeform sense of group identity, it struck right at a nexus of "alt" culture that was attempting to reconcile Nirvana, Dr. Dre, and the Red Hot Chili Peppers all at once. In that context, the ranginess of Check Your Head more than makes up for its screw-around jam-sesh shagginess: crunchy/heavy rap-rock hits like "Pass the Mic" and "So What'cha Want" retrofit their Licensed to Ill snotiness into skatepunk chic, their amped-up circle-pit take on Sly & the Family Stone's "Time for Livin'" is an inspired hardcore outburst, and the addition of "Money" Mark Nishita as the crew's resident keyboard player helped inspire the Beasties to explore an inspiring new route as a surprisingly tight garage-funk instrumental combo. © Nate Patrin/Qobuz

June 27th, 2007 at Amoeba music - the most popular record store in Hollywood - Paul McCartney steps on stage for an undisclosed, 90 minute performance, to a small but eager crowd. The venue is more like the Cavern Club than Wembley, which might have prompted this introductory statement: "Welcome to Amoeba - it's got to be the most surreal gig ever. The management has asked us to point out no shoplifting please”. Cue 21 songs, from his solo discography as well as his catalog as a Beatle. Four of these recordings would be released the same year in a limited edition: Only Mama Knows, C Moon, That Was Me, and I Saw Her Standing There. In 2009, these were republished in a CD version. But 17 other songs had yet to be made available to the public - until today. Backed by a very solid band, with Dave Arch (piano), Rusty Anderson (guitar), Brian Ray (bass) and Abe Laboriel, Jr. (drums), Macca is given free reign to sing his heart out. During the opener Drive My Car, his voice is strong and self-assured; as the show goes on, it is noticeably tinged with emotion. On an exceptional performance of The Long and Winding Road, the moment is crystallized - the sheer adoration of the crowd, and the clear enjoyment Paul seems to be taking out of the performance, clearly lend some sort of magic to the whole thing. Live at Amoeba 2007 is a grand slam from start to finish - usual business for Sir Paul McCartney. © Alexis Renaudat/Qobuz 

Thanks to the youthful but tantalising grunge of the self-released EP Take Control in 2019, the Mysterines, initially coalesced around singer/guitarist Lia Metcalfe, George Favager (bass) and Chrissy Moore (drums), had caught the ear of BBC Introducing's talent scouts, who placed them on their radio airwaves and promptly invited them to play their Reading and Leeds festival springboard stage. This huge exposure opened the door to support acts such as Royal Blood and The Amazons, and created enough anticipation for their first full-length album. Released on the Fiction label, Reeling, a 43-minute rock explosion, allows the Liverpudlians to come out of the woodwork. Not without pain. After a year of ups and downs, a change of drummer and an extra guitarist, the quartet had to lock themselves up for three weeks in Assault & Battery studios, between two London confinements, to record under the watchful eye of producer and sound engineer Catherine Marks (Foals, Wolf Alice, The Killers). And all this was sometimes done in one take.It was a difficult gestation period that ended up being beneficial, according to drummer Paul Crilly: "We couldn't go out without forgetting the album, or spending time with other people. It was a real relief to hand it over once we'd done our bit." This tension captured within four walls creates the raw material and guides the tracklisting. At the climax of this pressure, this rock on the grill, opens Life's A Bitch (But I Like It So Much) and then Hung Up, with their fat riffs and saturations. The pressure eases but remains legible on the more country Old Friend / Die Hard and the guitar ballad Still Call You Home. They end insidiously on the dark and creepy Nick Cave-like slowness of Confession Song with its gothic piano. "When I first listened to the test pressing, I could feel all those moments in the studio again," says Crilly. Boosted by Lia's voice, like a destructive high priestess of rock, the aptly named Reeling unfolds an unbridled rock nuance, from garage captured on the fly to more delicately laid-back pop melodies. Amazing and rather mature for a band barely out of their teens. Qobuzissime! © Charlotte Saintoin/Qobuz

Over six previous albums, Kentucky's Black Stone Cherry continued to prove that their hoary hybrid of Southern rock, grunge, post-metal, and hard rock remains vital. The Human Condition underscores their deserved reputation as the brotherhood of Southern swamp metal, but there is immense growth in their creative process. Previously, BSC's recording process always involved cutting basic tracks while playing live on the studio floor. Working in bassist Jon Lawhon's Monocle Studios, the band did a 180: For the first time ever, they meticulously multi-tracked every note and sound. The sonic detail is indeed expansive, but the group sacrificed none of their power or swagger. They also felt a sense of urgency; while recording, the COVID-19 pandemic was spreading exponentially, and they undertook marathon sessions to complete the record. They finished days before the world shut down. The result is a startlingly fresh-sounding BSC album.Opener "Ringin' in My Head" offers muted feedback and dissonance before a bone-crunching guitar riff introduces the melody. Though written years ago, its lyrics are oddly prescient: "People people, your attention please/I need to tell all y'all about a new disease/it's crept right up from beneath our nose...I got a ringin' in my head/My bones are shakin'...I can feel it in my chest...The whole world's been shaken." The jam welds shattering grunge to metal as vocalist Chris Robertson sounds the alarm. "Push Down & Turn" offers scorching swamp metal. Robertson wails about his struggles with bipolar disorder and the band protects him with a maelstrom of overdriven riffs, chugging bass, and John Fred Young's thundering kick drums. "When Angels Learn to Fly" and "In Love with the Pain" are both exercises in the kind of anthemic AOR stadium rock balladry employed by bands such as 38 Special and the Outlaws. The muscular, dynamic production frames infectious, melodic hooks, vulnerable lyrics, and chiming group choruses. The metallic psych in "The Chain" channels Soundgarden in the best possible way. "If My Heart Had Wings" melds Dobro, electric guitars, piano, synth strings, and majestic processional drumming as Robertson heartbreakingly confesses his shortcomings in a relationship strained to the breaking point. BSC's customary inclusion of a classic cover remains in a noisy, slamming, irresistible read of ELO's "Don't Bring Me Down," offered with impeccable backing vocals and the filthiest bass line Lawhon has yet recorded. On "Devil in Your Eyes," Ben Wells channels Sonny Landreth's slide guitar sound before raging into dark, swirling Pearl Jam-esque hard rock. "Keep On Keepin' On" had to close the set. Despite its fist-pumping riff and hard rock vamp, the lyrical melody and group refrain return us to the tragic uncertainty of the present: "When everything that's good is gone, got to keep on keepin' on." The Human Condition's polished production might startle, but it's key to the band's most adventurous, mature, and finely wrought album to date, hands down.© Thom Jurek /TiVo