Angst was the primary theme of Justice’s first album, Cross (2007), which helped establish the identity of a duo who were virtually unknown up until that point. The listener gets thrown deep into these angsty concepts right from the first track, ‘Genesis’. It hits even harder than the second track, ‘Waters of Nazareth’, released two years earlier, which was seemingly the first step towards the ultra-saturation found in this first album. It is a big statement and a perplexing prospect for stage technicians (especially huge tracks like ‘Stress’ and ‘Phantom’). A record which boasts such rare aggression for this time period doesn’t easily fall into a specific genre: is it techno? House? Big beat? Electroclash? Dance? Rock? Punk? In fact, Xavier de Rosnav and Gaspard Auge were following in the footsteps of 2ManyDJs in Belgium and Erol Alkan in England, artists who have long since freed themselves from genre boundaries and are constantly experimenting with various mash-ups. In any case, † (Cross) is a red herring. Justice, whose punk edge was a result of their technical limitations, left behind a clue on ‘D.A.N.C.E’: they like Moroder, Yes and Michel Berger. They like pop. Fifteen years later, the Ed Banger label is releasing a reissue of this landmark album with six tracks, including demos, outtakes and instrumentals, as well as a cover of ‘D.A.N.C.E’ by the American Rapper Logic. This anniversary edition will make Justice’s true inspiration clear. © Smaël Bouaici/Qobuz

The Parisian duo Justice seem, for the most part, unfettered by niceties such as sonic subtlety or restraint. Combining French-touch house with large doses of heavy metal hedonism, the group's self-titled debut (aka Cross) privileges rock's devil-may-care mid-range thrash over electro's low-frequency thump. The album, in classic rave style, is all about colossal riffs. And Justice manages to pull out a corker of a pop-crossover hit with "D.A.N.C.E.," the album's first single. Instantly hummable, with its Sesame Street style singalong chorus, the song is an ebullient, slightly nostalgic nod to '80s electro-funk. Reminiscent of another act that ignited a youth culture revolution (Daft Punk), Justice seem intent on winning a new generation over with their head-banging house music.© Dave Shim /TiVo

As if coming up with a worthy successor to the incomparable monument Masters Of Puppets wasn't daunting enough, Metallica had to go through the loss of Cliff Burton, who was more than just a bassist: he was a kind of spiritual and musical guide. Although they would later call on the services of a psychiatrist (see the film Some Kind Of Monster), it was when they started work on this fourth album that Lars Ulrich, James Hetfield and Kirk Hammett really needed the services of a shrink. Poor old Jason Newsted probably could have done with some help as well, coming to terms with becoming the group's whipping boy, especially on this album where he was simply "eliminated" from the mix. Although Lars and James swore that they'd never remix the bass back into ...AJFA it's clearly much more present on this remastery and on the numerous live tracks that feature on this re-release.Consciously or not, the three survivors of the tour bus accident that killed Cliff on 27 September 1986 were trying to record an album that the he would have liked. With Cliff, the group's horizons had widened, and they had become a sophisticated band whose tastes ran from Bach to the high-flying prog rock of Rush, King Crimson or Yes, from the bluesy hard rock of Thin Lizzy to the southern rock of Lynyrd Skynyrd or Allman Brothers… It's clear that Lars and James took Metallica forward in this period, but they pushed their convoluted compositions to their outer limit, with the result being that …AJFA feels like a gigantic cabinet with countless compartments and drawers. Throughout the development period of the nine tracks on this double album (which dates from the last halcyon days of vinyl), things were never easy for Kirk or Jason, which is made clear by the many offcuts and first drafts included in this re-release (running from James's first audio cassettes in 1986 all the way through to the sessions with the whole band from October 1987 to January  1988).While Cliff's shadow hangs over this album, which is surely Metallica's most "progressive" album, the group was soon to take a turn in another direction. After all, it would have been hard for them to go much further into experimental madness. The paradox is that …AJFA brought the four-piece their first "mainstream" success with One. The the cut-down version made it onto the airwaves and MTV thanks to Metallica's first ever music video. © Jean-Pierre Sabouret/Qobuz

Live album or studio album? Woman Worldwide falls right between the two; it’s the synthesis of a huge one-year tour and the meticulous work by the French duo. It all began with their third album Woman, released in 2016, which gave rise to the creation of one of the most impressive live shows the following year. However, Xavier De Rosnay and Gaspard Augé have not just revisited Woman, they have also drawn from their previous two albums (Cross and Audio Video Disco) to create this supercharged mash-up. But for this duo, simply releasing an album isn’t enough. Their label Ed Banger adds that "After a year of testing, performing, refining and recording on the road, they returned to the studio in Paris to give their songs the finish that live performance doesn't always allow.” At first glance, the result seems enormous: you are quickly lead through ten years of Justice with a power that has never been reached before by the French duo. It shakes, it lifts, it explodes. But when you listen to the remix again, the mixing and arrangement work is so thorough that you can understand why one of the most talented electronic duets on the planet have chosen to present this work as a studio album. Our only regret is that no exclusive tracks have been included; it could have alleviated the pain of waiting until the next record. © Sylvain Di Cristo / Qobuz

Stylish nostalgia is the pan et beurre of a lot of French dance music, including -- for better and worse -- Justice's third album. Arriving five years after Audio, Video, Disco, Woman is built on layers of fondly remembered vintage funk and disco, pre-EDM French Touch, and Gaspard Augé and Xavier de Rosnay's own work. The duo lead with the most broadly appealing side of their music: with its choral vocals and popping bass, "Safe and Sound" sounds like a slowed-down version of "D.A.N.C.E." with a hint of roller disco, while the gleaming synths and chugging rhythms of "Alakazam!" and "Fire" keep going like perpetual-motion party machines. Individually, these tracks are a lot of fun, but taken together, they give the impression that the pop whimsy and prog metal tangents of Cross and Audio, Video, Disco are strengths Justice preferred to leave in the past. Just when it seems Woman is consistent to a fault, Augé and de Rosnay bring some of that weirdness back to their music without derailing their grooves. The luxe vocals on the aptly named "Chorus" lend some oddball '70s sci-fi majesty to its gritty beat (and the final track, "Close Call," adds to the impression that Woman is secretly the soundtrack to a space fantasia). Meanwhile, "Heavy Metal"'s frantic counterpoint has as much in common with Audio, Video, Disco's metal fixations as it does with kitschy classical pop. "Randy," which features vocals from longtime contributor Morgan Phalen, blends chugging guitars and strings courtesy of the London Contemporary Orchestra into one of the album's finest examples of genre-mashing; similarly, the breezy "Love S.O.S." proves the duo's range remains. Even if Woman sometimes sounds more like two EPs than a cohesive set of songs, it's still an enjoyable album -- especially when Justice use their flair for looking back creatively.© Heather Phares /TiVo

Just in time for the coronation of King Charles III comes this release, featuring music written for the coronations of George II in 1727 and of George I before him. The Handel works, written for the 1727 event, are the pure public Handel, with imposing choral-orchestral chords interspersed with straightforward but not simple episodes of counterpoint. They are meant to be crowd-pleasers, and indeed, they are; they're hard to ruin. What is on offer here from the RIAS-Kammerchor Berlin and the Akademie für alte Musik Berlin under conductor Justin Doyle are elegant but undersized performances characteristic of the Continental historical performance movement. Reports from Handel's time indicated an orchestra of 160; here are but 20 players. The choir, at 36 singers, is closer to Handel's 40, and this veteran group delivers a rich, satisfying sound with a rounded tone from the smaller solo group (not indicated in the score but often performed as it is here). The anthem The Lord Is a Sun and Shield is not by Handel but by William Croft, and one will be struck by how close it is to Handel stylistically. The overture to Handel's Occasional Oratorio, HWV 62, serves as an overture to the whole program, and there is a typically odd Chaconne by John Blow as an interlude. These are less-splendid but highly enjoyable performances for reliving the coronation atmosphere.© James Manheim /TiVo

Continuing their slow crawl toward middle age, Linkin Park opt for moody over metallic on A Thousand Suns, their fifth album. A clear continuation of 2007’s Minutes to Midnight, A Thousand Suns also trades aggression for contemplation, burying the guitars under washes of chilly synthesizers -- a sound suited for a rap-metal band that no longer plays metal but hasn’t shaken off the angst, choosing to channel inward instead of outward. So few rap-metal bands have chosen to embrace their age -- they fight against it, deepening their technical chops while recycling ideas -- that it’s easy to admire Linkin Park’s decision not to shy away from it, even if their mega-success gives them the luxury to pursue musical risks. The problem is, the subdued rhythms, riffs, and raps of A Thousand Suns wind up monochromatic, an impression not erased by the brief bridges between songs, sampled speeches, and easy segues, every element retaining moodiness without offering distinction. Brooding is a better vehicle for angst than rage for a group whose members are well into their thirties, but an album created on a grayscale is less than compelling for anybody lacking the patience to squint and discern the minute details.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Eight years separate 2005's A Bigger Bang, the Rolling Stones' 24th album of original material, from its 1997 predecessor, Bridges to Babylon, the longest stretch of time between Stones albums in history, but unlike the three-year gap between 1986's Dirty Work and 1989's Steel Wheels, the band never really went away. They toured steadily, not just behind Bridges but behind the career-spanning 2002 compilation Forty Licks, and the steady activity paid off nicely, as the 2004 concert souvenir album Live Licks proved. The tight, sleek, muscular band showcased there was a surprise -- they played with a strength and swagger they hadn't had in years -- but a bigger surprise is that A Bigger Bang finds that reinvigorated band carrying its latter-day renaissance into the studio, turning in a sinewy, confident, satisfying album that's the band's best in years. Of course, every Stones album since their highly touted, self-conscious 1989 comeback, Steel Wheels, has been designed to get this kind of positive press, to get reviewers to haul out the cliché that this is their "best record since Exile on Main St." (Mick Jagger is so conscious of this, he deliberately compared Bigger Bang to Exile in all pre-release publicity and press, even if the scope and feel of Bang is very different from that 1972 classic), so it's hard not to take any praise with a grain of salt, but there is a big difference between this album and 1994's Voodoo Lounge. That album was deliberately classicist, touching on all of the signatures of classic mid-period, late-'60s/early-'70s Stones -- reviving the folk, country, and straight blues that balanced their trademark rockers -- and while it was often successful, it very much sounded like the Stones trying to be the Stones. What distinguishes A Bigger Bang is that it captures the Stones simply being the Stones, playing without guest stars, not trying to have a hit, not trying to adopt the production style of the day, not doing anything but lying back and playing. Far from sounding like a lazy affair, the album rocks really hard, tearing out of the gate with "Rough Justice," the toughest, sleaziest, and flat-out best song Jagger and Richards have come up with in years. It's not a red herring, either -- "She Saw Me Coming," "Look What the Cat Dragged In," and the terrific "Oh No Not You Again," which finds Mick spitting out lyrics with venom and zeal, are equally as hard and exciting, but the album isn't simply a collection of rockers. The band delves into straight blues with "Back of My Hand," turns toward pop with "Let Me Down Slow," rides a disco groove reminiscent of "Emotional Rescue" on "Rain Fall Down," and has a number of ballads, highlighted by "Streets of Love" and Keith's late-night barroom anthem "This Place Is Empty," that benefit greatly from the stripped-down, uncluttered production by Don Was and the Glimmer Twins. Throughout the album, the interplay of the band is at the forefront, which is one of the reasons the record is so consistent: even the songs that drift toward the generic are redeemed by the sound of the greatest rock & roll band ever playing at a latter-day peak. And, make no mistake about it, the Stones sound better as a band than they have in years: there's an ease and assurance to their performances that are a joy to hear, whether they're settling into a soulful groove or rocking harder than any group of 60-year-olds should. But A Bigger Bang doesn't succeed simply because the Stones are great musicians, it also works because this is a strong set of Jagger-Richards originals -- naturally, the songs don't rival their standards from the '60s and '70s, but the best songs here more than hold their own with the best of their post-Exile work, and there are more good songs here than on any Stones album since Some Girls. This may not be a startling comeback along the lines of Bob Dylan's Love and Theft, but that's fine, because over the last three decades the Stones haven't been about surprises: they've been about reliability. The problem is, they haven't always lived up to their promises, or when they did deliver the goods, it was sporadic and unpredictable. And that's what's unexpected about A Bigger Bang: they finally hold up their end of the bargain, delivering a strong, engaging, cohesive Rolling Stones album that finds everybody in prime form. Keith is loose and limber, Charlie is tight and controlled, Ronnie lays down some thrilling, greasy slide guitar, and Mick is having a grand time, making dirty jokes, baiting neo-cons, and sounding more committed to the Stones than he has in years. Best of all, this is a record where the band acknowledges its age and doesn't make a big deal about it: they're not in denial, trying to act like a younger band, they've simply accepted what they do best and go about doing it as if it's no big deal. But that's what makes A Bigger Bang a big deal: it's the Stones back in fighting form for the first time in years, and they have both the strength and the stamina to make the excellent latter-day effort everybody's been waiting for all these years.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

In their first half-decade of existence, the great paradox of the French duo known as Justice is that they have always been familiar, and yet you can’t quite pin them down. No one could advocate for their debut full-length without mentioning Daft Punk, but the unique Justice voice was there in the mix too, becoming more obvious with each return visit. Four years later, its follow-up comes with the same appeal as prog rock, pop-metal, and that big drum thunk of the ‘80s, which are all touchstones for the overall sound. Still, the heart of the album comes from the duo’s increasingly good songs and performance touches that are identifiably Augé and de Rosnay, as dreamy vocals echo underneath crisp percussion and very Euro-styled synths. Guitars plays a bigger role than ever as “Brianvision” comes with some Phil Manzanera-style riffage, while “New Lands” brings reminders of the Cars in all their new wave glory. Just so the dancefloors don’t go hungry, the rhythmic thump is present on big singles like “Civilization”, the title track, and the great “Helix,” which sounds like Italo-disco going post-punk. With so many genres having heavy influences on this mash, Audio, Video, Disco might just be the quintessential example of pop music in the Internet world where everything is available, and available to shuffle, but the main point is good times, great record.© David Jeffries /TiVo

After two albums of muted, mature jazz-inflected pop, the last being an explicit album about death, Sting created his first unapologetically pop album since the Police with Ten Summoner's Tales. The title, a rather awkward pun on his given last name, is significant, since it emphasizes that this album is a collection of songs, without any musical conceits or lyrical concepts tying it together. And, frankly, that's a bit of a relief after the oppressively somber The Soul Cages and the hushed though lovely, Nothing Like the Sun. Sting even loosens up enough to crack jokes, both clever (the winking litany of celebrity pains of "Epilogue [Nothing 'Bout Me]") and condescending (the sneeringly catchy cowboy tale "Love Is Stronger Than Justice [The Munificent Seven]"), and the result is his best solo record. In places, it's easily as pretentious as his earlier work, but that's undercut by writing that hasn't been this sharp and melodic since the Police, plus his most varied set of songs since Synchronicity. True, there isn't a preponderance of flat-out classics -- only the surging opener "If I Ever Lose My Faith in You," the understated swing of "It's Probably Me," and the peaceful ballad "Fields of Gold" rank as classics -- but, as an album, Ten Summoner's Tales is more consistently satisfying than anything else in his catalog.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

After two albums of muted, mature jazz-inflected pop, the last being an explicit album about death, Sting created his first unapologetically pop album since the Police with Ten Summoner's Tales. The title, a rather awkward pun on his given last name, is significant, since it emphasizes that this album is a collection of songs, without any musical conceits or lyrical concepts tying it together. And, frankly, that's a bit of a relief after the oppressively somber The Soul Cages and the hushed though lovely, Nothing Like the Sun. Sting even loosens up enough to crack jokes, both clever (the winking litany of celebrity pains of "Epilogue [Nothing 'Bout Me]") and condescending (the sneeringly catchy cowboy tale "Love Is Stronger Than Justice [The Munificent Seven]"), and the result is his best solo record. In places, it's easily as pretentious as his earlier work, but that's undercut by writing that hasn't been this sharp and melodic since the Police, plus his most varied set of songs since Synchronicity. True, there isn't a preponderance of flat-out classics -- only the surging opener "If I Ever Lose My Faith in You," the understated swing of "It's Probably Me," and the peaceful ballad "Fields of Gold" rank as classics -- but, as an album, Ten Summoner's Tales is more consistently satisfying than anything else in his catalog.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

César Franck worked on Les Béatitudes for ten years but never heard it performed in full and would certainly have been dismayed at its general neglect. The work even shifts in style a bit from the Fifth Beatitude onward, becoming more Wagnerian as Franck discovered Wagner's Tristan und Isolde and the exultant finale ("Blessed are those who suffer persecution for justice, for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs") packs quite a punch. The texts blend the biblical Beatitudes with tropes from a French children's book author, and they are generally thought to be a weak point of the work. However, the piece is worth experiencing, especially in this reading by the Orchestre Philharmonique Royal de Liège and conductor Geregly Madaras, with the Hungarian National Choir and eight generally strong soloists. The choir is also divided into "terrestrial" and "celestial" units. The work is hard to classify; it is often called an oratorio, but there is not really any dramatic action despite the various personae the eight soloists adopt (celestial voices, Christ, Satan, Pharisees, and more). Nevertheless, Madaras manages to keep things moving and, more importantly, to keep things clear, with vivid contrasts among the various forces and warmth that capture the flavor of the biblical texts. The Fuga Libera label delivers idiomatic sound from the Salle philharmonique in Liège, and the work, though it may be tough going in spots, is characteristic of Franck and of the French musical scene of its time in a compelling way.© James Manheim /TiVo

Uh-Huh found John Mellencamp coming into his own, but he perfected his heartland rock with Scarecrow. A loose concept album about lost innocence and the crumbling of small-town America, Scarecrow says as much with its tough rock and gentle folk-rock as it does with its lyrics, which remain a weak point for Mellencamp. Nevertheless, his writing has never been more powerful: "Rain on the Scarecrow" and "Small Town" capture the hopes and fears of Middle America, while "Lonely Ol' Night" and "Rumbleseat" effortlessly convey the desperate loneliness of being stuck in a dead-end life. Those four songs form the core of the album, and while the rest of the album isn't quite as strong, that's only a relative term, since it's filled with lean hooks and powerful, economical playing that make Scarecrow one of the definitive blue-collar rock albums of the mid-'80s.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

This is the album that solidified Uriah Heep's reputation as a master of gothic-inflected heavy metal. From short, sharp rock songs to lengthy, musically dense epics, Demons and Wizards finds Uriah Heep covering all the bases with style and power. The album's approach is set with its lead-off track, "The Wizard": it starts as a simple acoustic tune but soon builds into a stately rocker that surges forth on a Wall of Sound built from thick guitar riffs, churchy organ, and operatic vocal harmonies. Other highlights include "Traveller in Time," a fantasy-themed rocker built on thick wah-wah guitar riffs, and "Circle of Hands," a stately power ballad with a gospel-meets-heavy metal feel to it. Demons and Wizards also produced a notable radio hit for the band in "Easy Livin'," a punchy little rocker whose raging blend of fuzz guitar and swirling organ made it feel like a '70s update of classic '60s garage rockers like the Electric Prunes or Paul Revere & the Raiders. However, the top highlight of the album is the closing medley of "Paradise" and "The Spell": the first part of the medley starts in an acoustic folk mode and slowly adds layers of organ and electric guitar until it becomes a forceful, slow-tempo rocker, while the second half is a punchy, organ-led rocker that includes an instrumental midsection where choral-style harmonies fortify a killer, Pink Floyd-style guitar solo from Ken Hensley. All in all, Demons and Wizards works both as a showcase for Uriah Heep's instrumental firepower and an excellent display of their songwriting skills in a variety of hard rock styles. As a result, it is considered by many fans to be their finest hour and is definitely worth a spin for anyone with an interest in 1970s heavy metal.© Donald A. Guarisco /TiVo