"For Lilies I just wanted to retreat to a cave with my Pro-Tools, my computer, and my cheap, 100Euro Shure SM-58 microphone. I could have gone to a big studio, made a big production – but I wanted none of that. I wanted to go back to the seed of creativity, the simplest materials. I was in this room where there was no light, no night or day at all, no heat. Very uncomfortable. But I felt free. I was happy to have this feeling – ‘I don’t need more, I have everything I need here.’” The spirit and the context in which Melanie De Biasio created Lilies are certainly in keeping with this unique artist's life and work... A singer-musician who is always ready to question and challenge herself anew and push the boundary markers which are so often set down between musical genres. Released in 2013, her album No Deal excelled as an atmospheric meeting of jazz, electro and rock. The Belgian who worships Nina Simone and Abbey Lincoln took another departure from the beaten track with what is commonly called vocal jazz, and wandered towards soul, trip hop, blues: into the most impalpable of ethers. In these weightless sequences, Lilies is firmly stamped with the De Biasio hallmark. This is a way of doing away with labels and playing with light and dark, day and night. © MD/Qobuz

Managing the sometimes hard-to-negotiate trick of expanding their sound while retaining all the qualities which got them attention to begin with, on Mask the members of Bauhaus consciously stretched themselves into newer areas of music and performance, resulting in an album that was arguably even better than the band's almost flawless debut. More familiar sides of the band were apparent from the get-go; opening number "Hair of the Dog," one of the band's best songs, starts with a double-tracked squalling guitar solo before turning into a stomping, surging flow, carefully paced by sudden silences and equally sudden returns to the music, while Murphy details cases of mental addictions in pithy phrases. The energy wasn't all just explosive angst and despair, though; the one-two punches of "Kick in the Eye" and "In Fear of Fear" have as much hip-shaking groove and upbeat swing to them as portentous gloom (Ash's sax skronk on the latter, as well as on the similarly sharp "Dancing," is a particularly nice touch). Elsewhere, numerous flashes of the band's quirky sense of humor -- something often missed by both fanatical followers and negative critics both -- make an appearance; perhaps most amusing is the dry spoken-word lyric beginning "Of Lillies and Remains," as David J details a goofily grotesque situation as much Edward Gorey as Edgar Allen Poe. Add to that three of the most dramatic things the band ever recorded -- the charging, keyboard-accompanied "The Passion of Lovers," the slow, dark fairy-tale-gone-wrong "Hollow Hills," and the wracked, trudging title track, where the sudden appearance of an acoustic guitar turns a great song into a near-perfect blend of ugliness and sheer beauty -- and the end result was a perfect trouncing of the sophomore-slump myth. © Ned Raggett /TiVo

Given Adam Naas’ voice and the stripped down visuals on this second album, you might have expected a load of stripped-back and post-soul gems, or perhaps even a disco revival. The Frenchman’s first EP appeared in the autumn of 2016, just months after Prince’s death—difficult to believe that was mere coincidence. Two years later, his début album landed somewhere between glam, pop and soul, serving only to confirm this princely lineage. Today, however, Adam Naas shows that if there’s one thing he’s learned from the Kid of Minneapolis, it’s his taste for freedom and artistic independence. He’s defined in equal measure by his characteristic fluidity between genres and influences.On Goldie and The Kiss of Andromeda, he loses (for the most part) the electronic sounds, or any other gimmicks from the 2010s, in favour of guitars (acoustic, electric and pedal-steel), piano, violins, backing vocals—all infused with this feeling that all the musicians are swaying gently behind their instruments. The album has an old-fashioned feel to it, but it doesn’t sound retro or nostalgic. Adam Naas has set sail, floating off into a musical territory which borders 60s country-pop, 80s new wave, choral gospel and 90s/2000s indie folk.With guitars that twinkle like fireflies in the moonlight, Adam Naas reveals himself to be something of an offbeat folk songwriter. Think Sparklehorse or Mac DeMarco. Although you won’t be thinking most of the time… Unplug and let yourself drift away to these dreamy, cottony songs. They’ll sound even better this summer, shirtless under the stars. Qobuzissime! © Stéphane Deschamps/Qobuz

For listeners willing to overlook the fact that this Crusaders retrospective begins the story in 1970 -- nine years after the combo began recording excellent hard bop and soul-jazz -- the two-disc set Gold is just as good and nearly as thorough as the 1996 four-disc box Way Back Home. (Since the running time is only 17 seconds shy of 160 minutes, it's truly jam-packed.) Focusing on the '70s allows the set to dwell considerably on each record the group released during the decade that produced its most popular (although not most rewarding) music. After grabbing a pair of tracks from the Crusaders' two Chisa LPs of 1970-1971, the set moves on to the Blue Thumb years with multiple selections from every main album of the '70s -- 1, The 2nd Crusade, Scratch, Chain Reaction, Free as the Wind. The material is primarily fusion and jazz-funk, moving into crossover jazz by the second disc, and while the group never quite matched great themes with great grooves, this is the easiest way to get to the heart of their discography. (Rare groove fanatics may agree or disagree with the inclusion of the shortened 12" version of "Street Life," although it still clocks in north of five minutes.)© John Bush /TiVo

The follow-up to 1973's Unsung Heroes was the first of the group's Blue Thumb efforts to be distributed by ABC Records. The label switch also coincided with the inclusion of lyrical guitarist Larry Carlton as a full-fledged member. Although much of Southern Comfort puts a gloss on ideas made definitive on earlier efforts, the complaints are minimal and this remains the most appealing, multi-faceted incarnation of the band. The first track, "Stomp and Buck Dance," is an offhanded and skilled approach to the group's patently earthy style. The insistent "The Well's Gone Dry" has the edginess of some of the better tracks on Unsung Heroes, and has Carlton doing great work on the bridge. Not surprisingly, it is Carlton's presence here that adjusts the band chemistry and makes the best of Southern Comfort even more so. The best track here, the poignant "When There's Love Around," has Carlton's guitar attaining the perfect sense of longing that meshes well with Joe Sample's trademark Fender Rhodes tones. The last tracks here are also in a thoughtful ballad vein: "Lilies of the Nile" has great horn work from Wilton Felder and Wayne Henderson, and the last track, "A Ballad for Joe (Louis)," is a heartfelt rumination on the life of the famed boxer, featuring Sample's inherent sense of melody. A good representation of the Crusaders' tasteful and intelligent playing, Southern Comfort is more than recommended to their fans.© Jason Elias /TiVo

Natalie Imbruglia was an instant charm with her 1998 debut single, Torn, and expectations for a follow-up to Left of the Middle were practically immediate. Imbruglia wasn't quick to rush, however. Instead of investing in the quick pop sound she made popular on her first album, she took her time in redefining herself as a songwriter with substance. Four years after becoming an international star, Imbruglia emerged with her finest work to date with White Lilies Island. It's a record that breathes something pure, and one can sense that she has complete control, lyrically and musically. Her spiritual and emotional connection remains the same, and White Lilies Island is her reflection of the reinvention. "Wrong Impression" is sweet with its twangy guitar riffs, and Imbruglia's softness is deceiving. She's quite dark, and challenges typical notions of love and acceptance. "Beauty on the Fire" and the heavy romance of "Do You Love" continue the fight. "That Day" and "Sunlight" are strikingly edgy, and Imbruglia's simplicity and energy are intoxicating. She couldn't have rushed this album. Imbruglia has made a brilliant pop record -- contemporary, yet timeless. White Lilies Island would have suffered without Natalie Imbruglia's perfectionism, and it would have lost sight of the elegance it so perfectly exudes.© MacKenzie Wilson /TiVo

When the Siberian-born pianist Ekaterina Litvintseva heard Blumenleben for the first time, she immediately resolved to find out more about the life and music of Dora Pejačević (1885-1923). This resolution prompted her to investigate an extraordinary corpus of music, remarkable not least for its sheer diversity, which she has attempted to convey in this selection of Pejačević’s piano output. Among 57 extant works, 24 are scored for solo piano; there would surely have been many more in both categories had she not died of kidney failure on 5 March 1923, aged 37, having suffered complications in giving birth to her first child. Pejačević was born in Budapest in 1885 into the Croatian aristocracy. She grew up on the family estate of Našice (in the region of Slavonia in Croatia) before taking her musical studies more seriously in Zagreb. Her early output shows how well she had mastered the Romantic idiom of character pieces by Mendelssohn, Schumann and Grieg, but her voice begins to emerge in the Six Fantasiestücke, Op. 17 of 1903. From two years later, the Blumenleben bring the character of each chosen the innocent snowdrop, the erotic rose, the mournful chrysanthemum – with a refined melodic imagination and rare economy of thought: her Mendelssohnian sympathies lead her only to use as many notes as are needed. Even more succinct (none longer than two minutes) are the nine Waltz-Caprices, Op. 28 (1906), ranging in expression from the grace and charm of their heritage to a sideways and even grotesque view of the genre (such as the slower No. 3, "in the tempo of a Ländler"). A more sardonic vein of expression emerges in the Capriccio, Op. 47 (1919), which jumps about the keyboard with dazzling glissandi and diabolical shifts of mood which belong to their time no less than French keyboard innovators such as Debussy and Ravel. The album’s final piece is also the most substantial: the second of Pejačević’s two piano sonatas, which became her penultimate work in any genre. The Sonata’s expressive key signature is established from the outset by the marking of Allegro con fuoco, and the writing is cast on a much grander scale than anything else here, resembling a work in the German or Russian schools more than the French-tinged colours of the miniatures. This newly recorded recital should attract the attention of pianophiles everywhere. © Piano Classics