Since 2019, Taylor Swift has been leading her fans and her music into a space-time rift worthy of a science-fiction block-buster: when she releases a new album, there's a 50/50 chance that it's an old one. What is the meaning of this devilry? Well, it’s mainly due to complicated and conflicting contracts, copyrights and (very) large sums of money, that have  all led Taylor Swift to decide to re-record and re-release her first six albums with some bonus, previously unreleased period tracks. The latest replicant is the album Speak Now, originally released in 2010. This third album of Taylor Swift’s was a major milestone in her discography: aged just twenty, she wrote all the songs for the first time, whilst moving away from the country aesthetic that had made her famous. It was a very personal album, with a lot of diary-style love stories from the point of view of a young woman barely out of her teens. Thirteen years on, it’s clear why Taylor Swift would sing these songs again (to get her hands back on the revenue generated by her old albums). But how? With a fuller voice, and by tidying up some of the lyrics that might be found off-putting today. Hardcore fans and commentators may cry revisionism, but the rest of us will certainly be delighted to find this early album almost unchanged © Stéphane Deschamps

Denis Villeneuve and Hans Zimmer (Interstellar, Gladiator…) reunite for the second installment of Dune, the film adaptation of Frank Herbert’s science fiction novels. In this sequel, Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet) unites with Chani (Zendaya) and the Fremen to lead a revolt against those who destroyed his family. Haunted by dark premonitions, he finds himself confronted with a difficult choice between the love of his life and the fate of the universe. Zimmer’s troubling score echoes these menacing intuitions, full of metallic textures that intertwine with the textures of the human voice, leading to sonorities that are both familiar and strange at once. We also hear the first film’s famous gimmick, the guttural voice of the Bene Gesserit, contributing to the project’s profoundly spiritual quality. Overall, the soundtrack to Dune: Part Two is more meditative than that of the first film, as is evidenced by the choice of the duduk, the Armenian woodwind instrument that most notably haunts the opening piece (“Beginnings Are Such Delicate Times”). Loyal to the great tradition of Hollywood film music, Hans Zimmer graces us with a love song that’s full of tenderness. Those who love the enchanting Zimmer of Terrence Malik’s The Thin Red Line will certainly appreciate this soundtrack to one of 2024’s most anticipated films. © Nicolas Magenham/Qobuz

This expanded Let It Bleed edition of the Replacements' fourth studio album Tim—the final with their full, original lineup—is a marvelous, absolutely necessary corrective to the muddled-sounding original release from 1985. Tim found the band at their creative peak, with some of the best songs Paul Westerberg, Chris Mars, and brothers Tommy and Bob Stinson would ever write, fresh under their belts. Here we get to enjoy not only the demos and an entire live show that are staples of the expanded reissue game, but we get to hear a version of the original album that's worthy of the material, thanks to veteran producer and engineer Ed Stasium.The Replacements really were contenders, and it's easy to imagine they could at least have been as big as Tom Petty, if not Springsteen. In 1985, they were newly signed to a supportive label with major distribution (Sire, who had championed the Ramones and Talking Heads). And the songs! From the deadpan, self-effacing yet somehow swaggering opener "Hold My Life" to the delightful Big Star redux of "Kiss Me On The Bus," the wallflower anthem "Swingin Party," the anthemic as fuck "Bastards Of Young," the incredible college radio ass-kiss of "Left Of The Dial," and then ending with the absolute heartbreaker of "Here Comes A Regular," Tim had every right to be as good or better than their gleeful breakout 1984 album Let it Be. A Ramone (Tommy a.k.a Tom Erdelyi) was even brought in to produce the thing, after initial sessions with their hero Alex Chilton (excerpts of which are included here). The mix just never came together, and the band did not have the creative control they'd previously had under Twin/Tone Records.In those pre-Nevermind days, there were very few acts who'd made the transition from the supportive yet broke-as-heck indie label system to a major label with sonic integrity intact. R.E.M. didn't succeed at the task until 1988, and even the Replacements' longtime friends Hüsker Dü failed spectacularly in 1987 with the messy, uninspired Warehouse. Tim sounded flat and a bit strange to fans, in a manner likely similar to Detroiters first hearing the second MC5 album, or Bowie's mix of the Stooges' Raw Power. So much information seemed to be missing. The 'Mats fans watched the notoriously sloppy yet inventive band morph from jokey hardcore kids to serious contenders for the next great troubadours in the vein of the Band. To mainstream reviewers, it was a fresh blast, on the strength of the group's erratic, epic live shows and how great these songs are. In November 1985, Rolling Stone crowed that the album sounded "as if it were made by the last real band in the world." Unfortunately, the self-destruction and excess that seemed cute at first took its toll, and guitarist Bob Stinson would be asked to leave before they could record the followup, 1987's Pleased to Meet Me. Stinson died a decade later.The producers of this reissue deserve all the medals and awards for their painstaking and sonically dense paean to, resurrection of, and love letter for the Replacements' fourth studio album. The band would doubtless have still managed to fuck their career up even if the initial product had sounded this good. The released video for "Bastards" is, of course, the ultimate slacker moment: A single camera shot of a stereo playing the song, the focus pulled back to reveal a smoking male listening to it on a couch, who then kicks in the speakers when it's over. Today, we have the version of the song that should have soundtracked it. Almost forty years too late, but we have it. © Mike McGonigal/Qobuz

If Sailin' Shoes was where Little Feat locked into the formula that would define their run throughout the '70s—namely, let Lowell George be Lowell George—then Dixie Chicken was where that formula was optimized to maximum effect. This resulted in Little Feat's best studio album, and also one of the best albums of rock's classic era. Thanks to both a substantial lineup shift—original bassist Roy Estrada was replaced by Kenny Gradney, while guitarist Paul Barrere and percussionist Sam Clayton were added to the mix—and the decision to have George, rather than a label employee like Ted Templeman or Russ Titelman, produce the album, Dixie Chicken was Little Feat at its purest. Recorded when the band was successful enough to have creative license and a substantial recording budget, but before they were so successful that they forgot how to be themselves, Chicken distills the languorous , soulful sound of the band into an ideal form. To be fair, that ideal form also made room for a handful of guests to help them realize their vision, like Bonnie Bramlett and Bonnie Raitt on backing vocals as well as Malcom Cecil's fresh-from-Talking Book-sessions synths. While notionally a rock record, the electric keys, locked-in rhythms, liquid guitar lines, and rich harmonies present more of a grizzled slow-burn funk than the SoCal party rock or soft rock of the band's peers. And, truly, Dixie Chicken seldom gets its heart rate up, but when it does —as on the two-step grooves of "Fat Man in the Bathtub" and the title track—one's reaction is more on the "let's boogie" rather than the "let's rock" side of the spectrum. This new deluxe edition—released to celebrate Dixie Chicken's 50th anniversary—features an excellent remaster of the original album, five previously unreleased alternates of album tracks, as well as two studio outtakes and two demo versions. Even better: the inclusion of a handful of tracks from a concert recorded in Boston a few months after the album's release; despite it being an outdoor show the sound quality is good, but the song selection (the middle seven of a 14-song set) leaves a bit to be desired. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

One of the great new wave/early MTV records, She's So Unusual is a giddy mix of self-confidence, effervescent popcraft, unabashed sentimentality, subversiveness, and clever humor. In short, it's a multifaceted portrait of a multifaceted talent, an artist that's far more clever than her thin, deliberately girly voice would indicate. Then again, Lauper's voice suits her musical persona, since its chirpiness adds depth, or reconfigures the songs, whether it's the call to arms of "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" or the tearjerking "Time After Time." Lauper is at her very best on the first side, all of which were singles or received airplay, and this collection of songs -- "Money Changes Everything," "Girls," "When You Were Mine," "Time," "She Bop," "All Through the Night" -- is astonishing in its consistency, so strong that it makes the remaining tracks -- all enjoyable, but rather pedestrian -- charming by their association with songs so brilliantly alive. If Lauper couldn't maintain this level of consistency, it's because this captured her persona better than anyone could imagine -- when a debut captures a personality so well, let alone a personality so tied to its time, the successive work can't help but pale in comparison. Still, when it's captured as brightly and brilliantly as it is here, it does result in a debut that retains its potency, long after its production seems a little dated.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Arriving 12 years after the release of the film, Vangelis' soundtrack to the 1982 futuristic noir detective thriller Blade Runner is as bleak and electronically chilling as the film itself. By subtly interspersing clips of dialogue and sounds from the film, Vangelis creates haunting soundscapes with whispered subtexts and sweeping revelations, drawing inspiration from Middle Eastern textures and evoking neo-classical structures. Often cold and forlorn, the listener can almost hear the indifferent winds blowing through the neon and metal cityscapes of Los Angeles in 2019. The sultry, saxophone-driven "Love Theme" has since gone on as one of the composer's most recognized pieces and stands alone as one of the few warm refuges on an otherwise darkly cold (but beautiful) score. An unfortunate inclusion of the 1930s-inspired ballad "One More Kiss, Dear" interrupts the futuristic synthesized flow of the album with a muted trumpet and Rudy Vallée-style croon. However well done (and appropriate in the movie), a forlorn love song that sounds as if it is playing on a distant Philco radio in The Walton's living room jarringly breaks the mood of the album momentarily (although with CD technology, this distraction is easily bypassed). Fans of Ridley Scott's groundbreaking film (as well as those interested in the evolution of electronic music) will warmly take this recording into their plastic-carbide-alloy hearts.© Zac Johnson /TiVo

Nearly 30 years into a career that's moved on and off the fringes of the indie underground, Blonde Redhead continues to delight with their thoughtful approach to highly textured melodic pop. While Sit Down For Dinner is technically the band's follow-up album to 2014's sleepy-sounding Barragán, the intervening near-decade saw two notable things happen for the band. The first was the Masculin Féminin box set, which collated their earliest releases, and then there was 2019's release of Adult Baby, a solo album by guitarist/vocalist Kazu Makino. These releases helped foster the idea that Blonde Redhead was done as a band. Instead, they seemed to revitalize them. Sit Down For Dinner certainly doesn't find the band returning to their noisy roots or even the high-impact shoegaze of their mid-career era, but it seems as though there was a conscious effort to move away from the spare, icy whispers of Barragán. That said, for the most part, Dinner still works around a similar set of loping, midtempo grooves; it's much less minimalist in its approach, evoking the warm, diaphanous sounds associated with the band at its peak. While one would struggle to ever call a Blonde Redhead song "space rock"—the vocals of Makino and Amedeo Pace are far too distinct for interstellar hypnosis—there is a spaciousness to cuts like "Kiss Her Kiss Her," "If," and "I Thought You Should Know" that gives the album a sense of textural richness that's certainly welcome. The thematic centerpiece here—a title track split into two distinct parts—is a great example of the creative energy still at play with Blonde Redhead; the first part is all dreamy ambience with Makino's near-spoken-word lyrical delivery demanding the listener's attention, while the second part unfolds into a rhythm-driven pop number that bears little resemblance to its predecessor beyond the echoes of a keyboard figure that persist throughout both. And although there's a good deal of middle-age melancholy coursing through the material here, it's nonetheless exciting to see the band still finding ways to experiment with and evolve their sound. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

Four years after Simple Minds returned to form on Walk Between Worlds, they emerged more confident on their adrenaline-fueled 19th album Direction of the Heart. Here, with conviction and confidence, they wield pulsing synths, arena rock drums, Charlie Burchill's silvery-sounding guitars, and Jim Kerr's dry, emphatic vocals for a cache of fine songs. In 2019 Kerr moved back to Scotland to be near his terminally ill father. He called Burchill, who showed up and brought recording gear. They wrote and demo'ed an album over six months. After his father passed, they recorded through 2021 at Kerr's empty hotel in Sicily, shuttered amid COVID-19's restrictions. Kerr and Burchill re-enlisted bassist Ged Grimes, acoustic guitarist Gordy Goudie, powerhouse drummer Cherisse Osei, keyboardist Berenice Scott, and vocalist Sarah Brown to assist them.Opener "Vision Thing," composed for Kerr's dad, is a transcendent, synth-driven anthem. The band is at full attack as synths zig-zag through Burchill's snaky fills above a cut-time drum kit and breathing bassline. Following a languid synth intro, "First You Jump (Then You Fly)" starts with Burchill's effects-laden guitar in overdrive. The drums dance as keyboards and bass cascade. Kerr and Brown deliver the lyric in unison with commitment and resolve. "Human Traffic" boasts an electro-rock hook and a guest vocal appearance from Sparks' Russel Mael. The chanted choruses and woven electric guitars wind through layered hook-laden synths with the hallmarks of an '80s anthem. An acoustic guitar introduces "Who Killed Truth" and Kerr enters with his still glorious falsetto supported by Brown. Burchill adds sinewy fills amid wafting keys, and Grimes and Osei anchor the band in a booming shuffle. "Solstice Kiss" weds Celtic pipe and string sounds to pillowy synths and fingerpicked guitars as a wordless chorus flows in. Osei's big beat duels with Burchill's distorted guitar and Grimes' loose bassline before Scott coaxes Kerr's sublime croon in. The refrain erupts as a fist-pumping crescendo and the band elevates the proceedings into emotionally transcendent overdrive. Brown's brief, gospelized vocal solo is a highlight. "Act of Love" was the band's opener at their first gig in 1978, and the first track on their initial demo. By 1979, they were bored with it and never played it again. Here, its modernized rearrangement fits with the rest of the music on offer with airtight precision and rock & roll energy. "Planet Zero" seemingly starts in the middle with a wail from Brown above interlocking synth patterns and breakbeat snares. The set closes with a neo-electro read of the Call's '80s-era MTV hit "When the Walls Came Down." In Simple Minds' treatment, it registers not as a prophetic alarm of political and social collapse, but as a gripping paean to the power of hope in times of darkness. Whether taken whole or as the sum of its parts, Direction of the Heart is an album by a band that still has something to prove. They deliver big. Without forsaking their core sound, they offer listeners energized, anthemic, poignant, electro-charged rock & roll.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

On their third album, New Order effortlessly added elements of dance to the new wave synthesisers and samplers found on their previous album, completing their transition from post-punk to dance music. Nestled beneath the impressive use of musical technology, you’ll find the Manchester band’s increasingly divine songwriting. ‘Love Vigilantes’, ‘The Perfect Kiss’ and ‘Sunrise’ are all stunning pop tracks enhanced by Gillian Gilbert's hypnotic synths, Peter Hook's elastic bass and Bernard Sumner's sparkling guitar. With Low-Life, the 100th release from legendary Mancunian label Factory, austere post-punk is completely replaced by the sunniest new wave dance. This influential album, despite its 80’s synths, still sounds like a pioneering record. © Marc Zisman

Atlantan singer-songwriter Faye Webster is no stranger to blending genres. Like its predecessors, this fifth studio album consistently mixes influences from indie-folk, indie-pop, and jazz, adding hints of R&B ("Feeling Good Today"), rockier sounds ("He Loves Me Yeah!"), and even string arrangements ("Underdressed at the Symphony," "Lifetime"). The band—featuring Bryan Howard on bass, Charles Garner on drums, Nels Cline (Wilco) on guitar, and Matt Stoessel on pedal steel—undeniably deserves a shoutout.  They steep the record in a country-style melancholia native to Webster's southern American home. Everyone is riding the same wavelength, creating a relaxing yet subtly intricate sound with instruments that interweave conversationally, calling and responding to each other while Webster's charming voice floats above everything. Its dreamy quality is emphasised by autotune in "Feeling Good Today" and "Lego Ring," on which she is joined by fellow Atlantan and long-time friend Lil Yachty, who adds distorted harmonies and his own juvenilely humorous verse: "Me and you are the dream team/ Always together like string beans. The album is peppered with surprises that keep it engaging, from tempo changes ("But Not Kiss," "Lego Ring") to interesting percussive accents ("Thinking About You," "eBay Purchase History") to word painting in the string crescendo that interrupts the title track. Underdressed at the Symphony was named after Faye Webster's impromptu visits to symphony concerts as she dealt with a break-up. The juxtaposition aptly reflects the record's understated and easy-going vibe, infused with a certain grandiosity and complexity led by the use of grand piano and coupled with the wistful wit that always permeates her confessional lyrics ("I'm depriving myself of happiness, something I'm really good at."). At times, Underdressed drifts away into repetitive refrains, but provided they are not opposed to getting lost in the band's lethargic lyricism—glossed in her ethereal vocals—Faye Webster fans will not be disappointed. © Ciara Rivers/Qobuz 

Even though this long-player was the second collection to have featured the original Supremes lineup with Mary Wilson, Florence Ballard and Diana Ross, Where Did Our Love Go (1964) was the first to significantly impact the radio-listening and record-buying public. It effectively turned the trio -- who were called the 'No-Hit Supremes' by Motown insiders -- into one of the label's most substantial acts of the 1960s. Undoubtedly, their success was at least in part due to an influx of fresh material from the formidable composing/production team of Brian Holland, Lamont Dozier and Eddie Holland (HDH). They had already proven themselves by presenting "(Your Love Is Like A) Heatwave" to Martha & the Vandellas and providing Marvin Gaye with "Can I Get a Witness." Motown-head Berry Gordy hoped HDH could once again strike gold -- and boy, did they ever. Equally as impressive is that the Supremes were among the handful of domestic acts countering the initial onslaught of the mid-'60s British Invasion with a rapid succession of four Top 40 sides. Better still, "Where Did Our Love Go," "Baby Love" and "Come See About Me" made it all the way to the top, while "When the Lovelight Starts Shining Through His Eyes" (number 23), "Run, Run, Run" (number 93) and "A Breath Taking Guy" (number 75) were able to garner enough airplay and sales to make it into the Top 100 Pop Singles survey. HDH weren't the only contributors to the effort, as William "Smokey" Robinson supplied the catchy doo wop influenced "Long Gone Lover," as well as the aforementioned "Breath Taking Guy." Norman Whitfield penned the mid-tempo ballad "He Means The World to Me," and former Moonglow Harvey Fuqua co-wrote "Your Kiss of Fire." With such a considerable track list, it is no wonder Where Did Our Love Go landed in the penultimate spot on the Pop Album chart for four consecutive weeks in September of '64 -- making it the best received LP from Motown to date. In 2004, the internet-based Hip-O Select issued the double-disc Where Did Our Love Go [Expanded 40th Anniversary Edition] in a limited pressing of 10,000 copies. The package included the monaural and stereo mixes, plus a never before available seven-song vintage live set from the Twenty Grand Club in Detroit and another 17 unreleased studio cuts documented around the same time.© Lindsay Planer /TiVo

Most North Americans seem to believe Yello's career began and ended with "Oh Yeah," the 1985 tune from their album Stella that became unavoidable in movies and television for years afterward. But the truth is, Yello have been a presence in international pop music since 1980, and with their 13th album, 2016's Toy, they've reminded us that they're still making smart, well-crafted, and politely subversive electronic pop more than three decades after their biggest hit. Stylistically, Toy doesn't sound radically different than the work Yello did in the '80s and '90s, though their touch has grown a bit lighter with time. These tunes are pop that exists somewhere between crisp EDM-influenced rhythms and witty ambient music. Boris Blank (who handles the group's music and production) moves back and forth from upbeat numbers with tuneful hooks and dance-friendly percussive effects to low-key soundscapes that, despite their playful edge, communicate a mood far more than a melody. Vocalist and lyricist Dieter Meier was 71 when Toy was released, but his gruff, smoky instrument fits the clean, polished surfaces of this music remarkably well, like Leonard Cohen's eccentric cousin from Switzerland. Toy wisely front-loads the catchier numbers, especially "Limbo," "Cold Flame" (featuring guest vocals from Malia), and "30,000 Days," while the set closes with more abstract and free-flowing tracks such as "Magma" and "Toy Square." Toy doesn't sound especially innovative, but it certainly demonstrates that Yello haven't been resting on their laurels, and at its best, the album applies new thinking in electronic pop with the melodic and production approaches that have always been part of Yello's music, for a set that's fresh but unmistakably their work.© Mark Deming /TiVo