Bouncing back after the relative stumbles of her late-2010s efforts, P!nk recaptures her spirit and voice on the cathartic Trustfall. Her ninth studio effort overall, the set is a motivational therapy session that hinges on themes of change, self-acceptance, loss, and love, reminding listeners (and herself) that everything will be OK if there's faith in the face of fear and the unknown. Buoyed by this spiritually liberated energy, P!nk pushes her vocals to higher highs with shiver-inducing results, backed by some of the most thoughtful messages in her catalog. As with past releases, she blends sentimental moments of introspection with grand pop highs, tugging the heartstrings one minute and inspiring physical release the next. Dancing and singing through tough times, P!nk delivers the album's gospel message on the pulsing title track, a synth-washed, Robyn-esque pop sparkler where she implores, "Picture a place where it all doesn't hurt/Where everything's safe and it doesn't get worse." The equally uplifting Max Martin/Shellback entry "Never Gonna Not Dance Again" is one of those euphoric singalong crowd-pleasers that is custom-built for an eternity at school dances and weddings, while the fast-paced, '80s synth blast "Runaway" pushes the urgency to the fore and the rollicking "Hate Me" jolts the album to life with a punk-rocking gang chorus, sinister riffs, and abrasive percussion. These more immediate earworms are scattered throughout to appease anyone looking for a radio-ready hit, but they cede the bulk of the album to more reflective fare that provides a different kind of spiritual nourishment. On the wistful "When I Get There," she mourns her late father with tender vulnerability atop contemplative piano and string backing, while the pensive "Lost Cause" boosts the same piano/strings approach with dramatic choral harmonies. The Lumineers, First Aid Kit, and Chris Stapleton make appearances across a trio of folk- and country-tinged tracks, but the spotlight shines brightest whenever P!nk is at the fore. Additional midtempo standouts include the stunning "Last Call," which laughs the pain away atop bittersweet twang and a swelling chorus, and the stirring piano ballad "Our Song," which packs a powerful gut-punch with a show-stopping vocal performance destined to bring the house down. In the end, Trustfall leans firmly on these powerful moments of personal growth, sidestepping P!nk's sometimes headstrong brattiness in favor of a confident defiance that speaks to triumph and maturity in a way that she hasn't done before.© Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo

The lady can rock. There is no question about that, and this album is one of several from her catalog that serve as a testament to that fact. Even the opening single, "If I Could Turn Back Time," has a crunchy texture to it, albeit in a poppy, '80s Starship sort of arrangement. Cher recruited some heavy-hitters for this release, including Steve Lukather (Toto), Desmond Child, and Andrew Gold. Not all of the album is hard-edged rockers -- witness the effective ballad "Just Like Jesse James" -- but all of it has an honesty and gritty edge that separates it from some of the more modern Cher material. When you hear the strength of the vocal performance here, it makes you wonder why the producers choose to tinker with her voice in the late '90s and early 2000s. She certainly doesn't need any help holding a tune. This one seems a bit dated in retrospect, with the sound certainly tied to pop/rock of the late '80s, but the performance and musical integrity, not to mention strong songwriting, really set the album apart as one of Cher's strongest.© Gary Hill /TiVo

The third time was definitely not the charm for Pat Benatar. While her debut and its follow-up, Crimes of Passion, both offered up hit singles and decent album material, Precious Time keeps the formula going without any of the songwriting magic of the first two records. The energy and momentum are there for the majority of the album, and even on the ballads Benatar's voice is in fine form. But there's really nothing new that Benatar has to offer (aside from an amusing cover of the Beatles' "Helter Skelter"), unlike her next album, which would see Benatar growing by leaps and bounds into the pop-friendly rock of the '80s.© Rob Theakston /TiVo

The primary feeling elicited from this live recording by Katie Melua is one of absolute sincerity, thanks to the autobiographical nature of the programme. Recorded in December 2018 at the Westminster Central Hall, the album opens with a traditional Georgian folk song (her country of origin), Tu Ase Turpa Ikavi, before following with Plane Song in which the singer describes her arrival in Northern Ireland (her adoptive country) in 1993. In the space of a few minutes, Katie Melua manages to take us through her journey charged with raw emotion. Accompanied by only a guitar, a piano and a discreet rhythm section, the singer has the power to showcase her velvety voice as well as the quality of her songwriting which blend pop and folk music. Of course, she performs hits like Nine Million Bicycles and The Closest Thing to Crazy, but there are a couple of surprises, like the cover of The Cure’s Just Like Heaven or What A Wonderful World. By slowing down the tempo of Louis Armstrong’s classic and joining forces with the Gori Women’s choir (who feature on several other songs from the album), Katie Melua imbues a relaxed ambience in the London concert hall. If we’re still talking about covers, we should mention the vibrant All-Night Vigil - Nunc Dimittis (a Russian religious song composed by Sergei Rachmaninoff in 1915) and Fields of Gold by Sting. It appears that Katie Melua enjoys plunging herself into as wide an array of genres as possible, but thanks to her melancholic voice and radiant sensitivity, she nevertheless manages to instil a sense of unity to this magical concert. © Nicolas Magenham/Qobuz

There have been plenty of George Strait compilations, and most of have been very good, but none have been as good as 2004's 50 Number Ones. While the 1995 box set Strait Out of the Box illustrated the range and depth of Strait's musical achievement, it may have been too lengthy for some listeners, and shorter compilations like the two-volume The Very Best of Strait left too many hits behind -- and by 2004, all those compilations were out-dated, since Strait continued to top the charts until the release of 50 Number Ones. This double-disc contains all the big hits that he's had since Strait Out of the Box, along with all of his classics from the '80s and early '90s. The title might bend the truth a little bit -- at least according to the Billboard charts, such latter-day singles as "True" and "Run" only peaked at number two, not number one -- but it doesn't matter, since this contains all of his major singles in one convenient package. And it's not noteworthy just because it's one-stop shopping, it's also noteworthy because it proves exactly how consistent George Strait's body of work has been over the last twenty-some years. From start to finish, there's not a slow spot here -- it's a thoroughly entertaining collection that belongs in the ranks of country's greatest-hits albums.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Following the quietly brilliant IRM would be a tough act for almost any artist, so Charlotte Gainsbourg extends the afterglow of her second album a bit longer with this collection of previously unreleased songs and live tracks. Featuring several songs culled from the sessions that birthed IRM, Stage Whisper’s studio tracks reaffirm that she and Beck struck gold with their collaboration: lead single and opening track “Terrible Angels” has an eerie-yet-sexy stomp that falls somewhere between Goldfrapp's glam shuffle and Broadcast's experimental electro-pop; later, the ballad “White Telephone” has an aloof intimacy that suggests Gainsbourg could very well be the successor to that group’s more accessible side after Trish Keenan's untimely death. While it’s easy to hear how these songs didn’t necessarily fit into the story that Gainsbourg and Beck told on IRM, they share the new life that album gave to her music. She spans “Paradisco”’s mischievous pop to the gorgeous, haunting “Memoir,” a largely acoustic collaboration with Villagers' Conor O’Brien that captures the freedom and isolation that comes after loving and leaving, with the ease and sensitivity she shows as an actress. Stage Whisper's live portion also highlights Gainsbourg's interpretive powers, as she and her band inject the previously clinical “IRM” with rock intensity and lock into the sly sensuality of 5:55's “Jamais.” Similarly, the way she switches from sweet detachment on “AF607105” to snarling on “The Operation” reflects the depth Gainsbourg reveals in concert. While its parts don’t quite come together in a way that rivals IRM, Stage Whisper is a welcome adjunct that celebrates Gainsbourg's skills in the studio and in front of an audience.© Heather Phares /TiVo

Dwight Twilley's first album, Sincerely, opens with "I'm on Fire," a pop tune so unstoppable that it became a Top 20 single even though Twilley and his partner Phil Seymour didn't have an album to go with it when it hit radio in the spring of 1975. It would be close to a year before Sincerely finally emerged, after sessions at London's Trident Studio were scrapped in favor of material recorded in Twilley's hometown of Tulsa, OK. Commercially, the decision was nearly fatal to Twilley's career momentum, but it's hard to argue with what he and Seymour came up with; with the two handling nearly all the vocals and instruments themselves, they crafted a power pop masterpiece, one that merged their Anglophile leanings with the Southern roots of rock & roll better than any of their contemporaries (including Big Star, who never seemed as comfortable with Memphis soul as they were with Liverpool pop). While nothing on the album quite matches the genius of "I'm on Fire" (what does?), the rest of the album is a consistently impressive, nodding towards a number of rock & roll touchstones while sounding confidently original at all times; the Raspberries-on-downs glide of "Baby, Let's Cruise," the loping updated rockabilly of "T.V.," the funky groove of "Feeling in the Dark," the Searchers-esque jangle of "Three Persons," and the broken-hearted melancholy of "I'm Losing You" could each be the work of a different band, but the strength of Twilley's songwriting and Seymour's versatile vocal chops bring a welcome unity to these many shades of pop perfection. While Twilley and Seymour would both enjoy long careers with a certain degree of success, neither ever made an album quite as good as Sincerely -- though they came close.© Mark Deming /TiVo

Remember when everybody was afraid of Marilyn Manson and Eminem? Then it turned out Detroit's white king of rap was a celebrity-obsessed one-liner machine with a pathetic array of mommy issues, and Florida's homegrown Satan went through a bad breakup and released 2007's weepy (relatively speaking) Eat Me, Drink Me. Now, on The High End of Low, Manson is trying to regain his dark throne once more, and frankly, it's unlikely to work. The track titles read like Manson-by-numbers: "Pretty as a Swastika," "Arma-godd**n-motherf**kin-geddon," "I Want to Kill You Like They Do in the Movies," "I Have to Look Up Just to See Hell," and perhaps the most unwittingly revelatory, "We're from America." This album marks the return of former bassist Twiggy Ramirez to the band, but as ever the Manson personality/persona towers over everything else, and his two or three musical ideas are repeated throughout the disc, with only a few exceptions. It doesn't help that he's never even tried to become a technically proficient vocalist; his desultory croon and hoarse shriek are the same as they've been since the early '90s. There are a few catchy riffs here, and a nice tone on "Blank and White," but lyrics like "If you touch me I'll be smeared/You'll be stained for the rest of your life" (from "Leave a Scar") and "Everyone will come to my funeral to make sure that I stay dead" (from "Four Rusted Horses") feel like he's trying to convince himself as much as the audience. The album's middle stretch is a hard slog, with the six-and-a-half minute "Running to the Edge of the World" followed by the nine-minute "I Want to Kill You..." The former is a Bowie-esque ballad/epic (acoustic guitar, strings) that could have been great if it had only been two minutes shorter, while the latter is a one-riff trudge that never builds up any momentum. The aggressive "We're from America" has bursts of lyrical wit, but when your opening line, "We're from America where we eat our young," is cribbed from Funkadelic circa 1972, you're pretty much advertising that you're out of ideas.© Phil Freeman /TiVo

This 20-song European import should be rated a lot higher than this, but there are some good reasons why it's not. It's essentially an updated version of the late-'70s Byrds Play Dylan LP, expanded to 61 minutes to encompass the huge number of outtakes and live tracks that weren't available, or even known to exist, when the original album was assembled. The idea is still a good one, though the execution -- at least in terms of the packaging -- leaves a lot to be desired. The CD uses the latest masterings of each song, as they stood circa the middle of 2001, and so the sound quality is not a problem; indeed, hearing all of the early-, mid-, and late-era Dylan-authored cuts by the Byrds juxtaposed in high resolution reveals the band's development and evolution (as well as several colossal wrong turns, such as the chorus-laden version of "Lay Lady Lay") in sharp detail. The problem lies with the fact that the material is assembled in a strangely haphazard order -- it starts off with the original lineup's recording of "Mr. Tambourine Man," but then jumps between years and different lineups of the group, forward a few years, then back, then to outtakes and live tracks. Coupled with the sketchy notes, the result is an entertaining CD that could have been a lot more than that. Ironically, the notes themselves allude to the special relationship between the Byrds and Bob Dylan without ever taking a closer look at it over time, and the bizarre nature of the programming results in a broad but very shallow and frustrating look at its subject, compelling though that subject remains, even when presented in this manner.© Bruce Eder /TiVo

The third time was definitely not the charm for Pat Benatar. While her debut and its follow-up, Crimes of Passion, both offered up hit singles and decent album material, Precious Time keeps the formula going without any of the songwriting magic of the first two records. The energy and momentum are there for the majority of the album, and even on the ballads Benatar's voice is in fine form. But there's really nothing new that Benatar has to offer (aside from an amusing cover of the Beatles' "Helter Skelter"), unlike her next album, which would see Benatar growing by leaps and bounds into the pop-friendly rock of the '80s.© Rob Theakston /TiVo

The 11th studio long-player from the veteran New York hardcore unit, The American Dream Died opens with a barrage of sirens (both of the air raid and police varieties) before launching fists first into the beefy title cut. The condemnation of greed and corruption is a hardcore punk pantry staple, but here it is well-timed, as the 15-track album (which clocks in at just over 25 minutes) arrives in the aftermath of a flurry of high-profile police brutality cases and an overall malaise regarding governmental infrastructure. Songs like "Social Justice," "No War Fuck You," and "Police Brutality," the latter with its none too subtle, N.W.A-inspired chant of "FTP," manage to transcend the generic outrage that their "a little too on the nose" titles would suggest through sheer sonic tenacity. Agnostic Front has always championed both the fringe dwellers and the everyman, and the band's blue collar roots seep into every palm-muted note and weathered snarl like mink oil into an old combat boot. That penchant for pairing menace with working class soul is best exemplified by the rousing "Old New York" (which opens with a well-placed Travis Bickle-delivered Taxi Driver snippet), a pit-inducing, head-kicking, old-school punk singalong that laments "The greatest city of them all, but it just don't feel the same, I miss the old New York." It's a fitting sentiment for a band that's in their third decade of sticking it to the man, and while Agnostic Front may be feeling a tad more sentimental these days, and are undeniably a little long in the tooth, they've lost little in the way of bite.© James Christopher Monger /TiVo