In the year of his 90th birthday (which he would have celebrated on the 23rd of September 2020 had he not died in 2004), Ray Charles is honoured with a new 90-track compilation box set. Just another compilation like all the rest? Yes and no. Ray Charles is undoubtedly one of the most-compiled artists in the history of music. Published by Tangerine, the label that the musician set up at the end of the 50s to keep the rights to his songs, this box set starts out like all the others: with the post-Atlantic hits, Georgia On My Mind, Hit The Road Jack, One Mint Julep, Busted... These are timeless treasures of proto-soul, but there doesn't seem to be much novelty here. The rest is much more interesting, and much rarer: tracks recorded between the second half of the 1960s and the 2000s, many of which were only released on vinyl, never reissued on CD and until now unavailable on digital. This is the first time that Ray Charles' lesser-known years have been given the compilation treatment in this way, and it is a revelation. In the 90s and 2000s, the production of his songs had a synthetic feel, and they did not age too well. These rarer songs are often hidden gems of southern soul, flavoured with country and wrapped in sumptuous symphonic orchestrations. Whether he is singing the Muppets (It's Ain't Easy Being Green) or Gershwin (Summertime, a duet with Cleo Laine), Ray Charles is always deeply moving. Now, the dream is to hear reissues of all these albums in their entirety. © Stéphane Deschamps/Qobuz

After the juvenile observer and the gangster mogul, Nas needed a new challenge for his third album. Now a muse for an uncompromisingly globalised rap, an heir to both Rakim and Whodini, Nas was hailed and booed in equal measure for his choices and his position. His career ran into trouble after his group The Firm proved a commercial and critical flop; as did his collaboration with Cormega, who was his main influence and link to the streets; and his ill-fated work with Dr. Dre. With this new, hotly-anticipated album, Nas aimed to re-impose himself as a widely-acclaimed genius. Revised and remodelled many times, I am was one one of the first albums to suffer enormously from piracy and successive leaks. Nas threw in the ultimate provocation, appearing on the sleeve as a Pharaoh, and as a Christian martyr with Puff Daddy, commercial rap's great demon of the day, on the controversial "Hate Me Now".But, inviting legends Scarface, DMX and Aliyaah, he survived the decimation of the icons of the day, and paid his respects to 2pac and Biggie on “We Will Survive”. Bearing the cross for his movement, Nas sometimes gets lost in a suit that's too big for him, with some cheap flash from Trackmasters and LES. But alongside these contradictions, we also see a return to good old habits, especially with DJ Premier on the iconic "NY State of Mind Part II" and above all "Nas is Like". As his urban hymns continue to resonate, Nas remains one of the greatest voices of his time.  © Aurélien Chapuis/ Qobuz  

It's often unfair to compare the Rolling Stones to the Beatles but in the case of the group's mono mixes, it's instructive. Until the 2009 release of the box set The Beatles in Mono, all of the Fab Four's mono mixes were out of print. That's not the case with the Rolling Stones. Most of their '60s albums -- released on Decca in the U.K., London in the U.S. -- found mono mixes sneaking onto either the finished sequencing or various singles compilations, so the 2016 box The Rolling Stones in Mono only contains 56 heretofore unavailable mono mixes among its 186 tracks. To complicate things further, the box -- which runs 15 discs in its CD version, 16 LPs in its vinyl incarnation -- sometimes contains both the British and American releases of a particular title (Out of Our Heads and Aftermath), while others are available in only one iteration (Between the Buttons is only present in the U.K. version). All this is for the sake of expedience: this is the easiest way to get all the mono mixes onto the box with a minimal amount of repetition. To that end, there's a bonus disc called Stray Cats -- with artwork that plays off the censored plain white cover art for the initial pressing of Beggars Banquet -- collecting the singles that never showed up on an official album, or at least any of the albums that made the box. Along with the odd decision to have the CD sleeves be slightly larger than a mini-LP replica (they're as big as a jewel box, so they're larger than a shrunk vinyl sleeve, a size that's rarely seen in other releases), this is the only quibble on what is otherwise an excellent set. The sound -- remastered again after the 2002 overhaul for hybrid SACDs -- is bold and colorful, with the earliest albums carrying a wallop and the latter records feeling like they're fighting to be heard in two separate channels and all the better for it. If nothing here provides a revelation -- none of the mixes are radically different, the way that some Beatles mono sides are -- this nevertheless is the best the Rolling Stones have sounded on disc (or on vinyl) and there's considerable care in this package, from the replications of the sleeves to the extensive notes from David Fricke. Plus, hearing the Stones in mono winds up being a hot wire back toward the '60s: this feels raw and vibrant, as alive as the band was in the '60s.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Despite being best known for the skull-crushing volume of his work with Dinosaur Jr., J. Mascis has dabbled in acoustic music in the past, most notably on his 1996 album Martin + Me (Martin being his acoustic guitar). But Several Shades of Why is easily his most accomplished and best-crafted acoustic album to date, as well as one of his most tightly focused collections in years. Several Shades of Why's ten songs are rooted in Mascis' acoustic guitar picking, and rather than simply stripping his amp-blasting tunes down to a quieter arrangement, most of these songs appear to have been written with an acoustic in mind, and his elemental but lively melodic figures are surprisingly nimble and shine in this more subtle and dynamic setting. Mascis has also brought in a handful of gifted acquaintances to join him on these sessions, including Kurt Vile on guitar, Sophie Trudeau on violin, and Pall Jenkins on keyboards, and while the musicians have left the right amount of space in the songs, there's just enough detail in these performances to give them an impressive depth and texture that serves them well. Mascis has never been known as an especially lucid lyricist, and this album hardly challenges that assumption, but the tenor of this album speaks to a more sincere and mature emotional core than much of the writer's previous work, and as mushy as his vocals traditionally are, here he doesn't reach for effect, but simply speaks to his heart and mind. Several Shades of Why isn't an album that sounds grandiose, but it's a strong and thoughtful work that features plenty of fine songs performed by a gifted guitarist with an equally capable ensemble by his side. If it isn't quite a masterpiece, along with Dinosaur Jr.'s surprisingly strong reunion albums, this suggests Mascis has been quietly enjoying an impressive career renaissance, as if the venerable slacker has discovered something welcome in the onset of maturity.© Mark Deming /TiVo

Like Mick Jagger before him, Steven Tyler itched to launch a solo career, but where Mick struck while the iron was relatively hot -- 20 years after "Satisfaction," true, yet the Rolling Stones still packed arenas -- the Aerosmith singer took the better part of a decade to figure out what he wanted to do on his own. Stumbling through a starring gig on American Idol and an accompanying flop single that led to an awkward 2012 reunion with Aerosmith, Tyler finally resurfaced as a country singer -- a surprise, because the closest he ever came to country was the Desmond Child co-write "What It Takes," a power ballad that provides a good touchstone for 2016's We're All Somebody from Somewhere. Nominally a country album, We're All Somebody from Somewhere doesn't belong to any country: laden with power ballads and pulsating polished rockers, it's commercial music for nonexistent formats. Tyler has a laugh with the lighter moments -- he skips through "I Make My Own Sunshine," a number so effervescent it should never have crossed his lascivious lips, and glides into the glistening groove of "Sweet Louisiana" -- but a good chunk of We're All Somebody from Somewhere moves a good deal slower, pulsating along with minor keys and deliberate marches. Pro that he is, Tyler never seems out of sorts. He lays into the crawling schmaltz of "My Own Worst Enemy" and "It Ain't Easy" with as much gusto as he slings the corn of "The Good, the Bad, the Ugly & Me," "Red, White & You," and "We're All Somebody from Somewhere," songs where signifiers substitute for significance and it really doesn't matter at all, partially because Tyler never figured out what he wanted this album to be. By the time he closes the record with superfluous renditions of "Piece of My Heart" and "Janie's Got a Gun" -- certainly leaner than the Pump original, yet still overblown -- it's clear that nobody involved with We're All Somebody from Somewhere had a conception for the music: they just wanted to cut a record that would be everything for everyone in the hopes it'd appeal to somebody from somewhere. They wound up with a record that tries hard to please but never does because the labor is always too evident.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Celebrating a quarter century of Sting: The Solo Artist, the three-CD/one-DVD 2011 box set 25 Years is a handsome retrospective bound in a hardcover book. Some box sets are heavy on rarities, all the better to hook the hardcore, some are designed to be comprehensive but 25 Years follows a different route, choosing to offer a leisurely journey through the past, stopping at all the familiar points on a well-worn path. Not counting the DVD, which contains the final show from Sting’s 2005 Broken Music tour and is heavy on Police material (eight of the ten tracks!), there is nothing unreleased nor is there anything unexpected; some charting singles are missing but they’re the ones that reached the lower rungs of the pop charts or only popped up on rock radio (“Down So Long,” “Epilogue (Nothing ‘Bout Me),” “Let Your Soul Be Your Pilot”), and the various stray songs and B-sides weren’t even in the running for inclusion. What Sting, who selected this sequence himself, has chosen to present are the hits -- from “If You Love Somebody Set Them Free” to “Desert Rose” -- supported by album tracks that are concert or fan staples. Not much of a surprise, yet the 45 songs, along with the photo, sketch, and lyric-laden book, do an excellent job of summarizing the spirit of Sting’s years after the Police. If you’re a fan, it’s a classy slice of nostalgia.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

An eclectic bluesman would seem to be a contradiction in terms, but Taj Mahal, who has moved through the worlds of folk, rock, and pop to reach his present categorization, fits the description, and here he takes several pop and R&B oldies that came from blues roots -- "Ooh Poo Pah Doo," "Lonely Avenue," "What Am I Living For?," "Let the Four Winds Blow" -- and returns them to those roots. He also calls in such guest stars as Eric Clapton and Bonnie Raitt, who have more than a nodding acquaintance with the blues, to assist him. The result is progressive blues hybrid that treats the music not as a source, but as a destination.© William Ruhlmann /TiVo

What the World Needs Now is a comprehensive single-disc compilation of Burt Bacharach's recordings of his music for Kapp and A&M Records between 1965 and 1974, drawn from his albums Hit Maker, the Man! Burt Bacharach and His Songs, Reach Out, Make It Easy on Yourself, Burt Bacharach, Living Together, and Burt Bacharach in Concert, as well as the soundtrack to Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Bacharach arranges and conducts the performances, using a studio orchestra including strings and electric instruments, usually with a female chorus to sing some portion of the lyrics written for the tunes by Hal David (or, in one instance, Bob Hilliard). The composer himself also handles occasional vocals, humming here and there and even singing whole lyrics on such songs as "A House Is Not a Home" and "Make It Easy on Yourself." The studio trickery of the 21st century no doubt could have made it sound like he could sing competently if he were cutting this material 40 years later than he did; as it is, he has moments in which he sings expressively and on key, but for the most part his voice is poor. While these recordings are a cut above mere easy listening run-throughs, boasting interesting arranging ideas and sections that illuminate Bacharach's melodies in ways the more familiar hit recordings did not, this is still music that depends heavily on the listener's recollection of those hit versions. When the tune is less familiar, such as on "Reach Out" or "Knowing When to Leave," the loss is felt particularly. For those who want to hear Bacharach's own, largely instrumental, take on his most popular songs of the 1960s and '70s, this is an excellent selection from his catalog. © William Ruhlmann /TiVo

Simply the Best is surrounded by some of the best situations a compilation can hope for. Tina Turner's work for Capitol past Private Dancer was spotty, she made a bunch of appearances on soundtracks and other artists' albums, and most of the tracks on Private Dancer are good enough to own twice. Almost half of Private Dancer shows up on Simply the Best, but you don't have to endure the way the original album spiraled down into slick fizzle. Instead you have to endure a misguided, pumped-up house remix of "Nutbush City Limits," but that's it. Everything else here is either top-notch or campy, certifiable fun. A duet with Rod Stewart on "It Takes Two" supplies the fun along with the new track, "I Want You Near Me" (Turner to lover: "You're so good with your hands/To help me with a hook or zip"). The two other new tracks tacked to the end beat out most of the album cuts the collection passes on, plus you get the bombastic "We Don't Need Another Hero (Thunderdome)" without having to buy a dull soundtrack. The oldest cut by years is the monolithic "River Deep-Mountain High," which is a bona fide classic but sonically out of place here. Reprogram the disc to play it at the beginning or end, skip the new "Nutbush" completely, and you've got sparkling, nearly perfect overview of Turner's postcomeback career.© David Jeffries /TiVo

They’re back again! Stereophonics are back with their new album Oochya!, their 12th full-length album in 25 years. This Welsh band have no need to worry about empty stadiums or being taken off the airwaves, as they’re still charging their way through the British rock landscape with the same energy they’ve always had. There’s a lot of fuel left in this band’s tank for a while yet. Their longevity is, in the most part, owed to their tried and tested formula: fast, catchy rock melodies, simple choruses that stick in your head, and the stadium-busting energy of frontman Kelly Jones. The amazing Hanging on your Hinges opens the album with its fat riff, Forever hooks you with its well-defined loops and youthful 90’s momentum, Seen that Look Before sounds like a soundtrack from an 80s romcom, while Jack in a Box offers an intimate banjo ballad. A well-conceived album with the classic Stereophonics sound that’s always seamlessly executed. © Charlotte Saintoin/Qobuz

One of the more notorious albums in the history of vocal music, What a Diff'rence a Day Makes! is the lush session that bumped up Dinah Washington from the "Queen of the Blues" to a middle-of-the-road vocal wondress -- and subsequently disenfranchised quite a few jazz purists. Washington had been praised in the same breath as Holiday and Fitzgerald for more than a decade, but Mercury nevertheless decided to back her with mainstream arrangements (by Belford Hendricks), heavy strings, and wordless vocal choruses similar to the radio hits of the day. Apparently, the mainstream backings didn't faze Washington at all; she proves herself with a voice as individual and evocative as ever. To be honest, the arrangements are quite solid for what they're worth; though it's a bit jarring to hear Washington's voice wrapped in sweet strings, the effect works well more frequently than not. Most of the songs here are familiar standards ("I Remember You," "I Thought About You," "Cry Me a River," "Manhattan," "Time After Time"), but they've been transformed by Washington as though they'd never been sung before. The Top Ten title track is by no means the best song on the album, but its title proved prophetic for Washington's career. Though her vocal style hadn't changed at all, one day she was a respected blues singer; the next, according to most of the jazz cognoscenti, she had become a lowbrow pop singer. Thankfully, the evidence against Washington's "transformation" is provided right here.© John Bush /TiVo

Let It Bee is a simple album about moons, barbarians, love, and babies, performed with the high-spirited glow that one's little sister would enjoy. Think the art school camp of Tom Tom Club or the gooey dignity of ABBA and the Primitives in a sparser context. But if sisters Tracey Byrn and Melissa Brooke Belland could make one feel like they're in desperate need of swinging upside down from a tree with their summery and preternaturally linked harmonies in the sportive "Don't Call Me Baby" or the imaginative "I Say Nothing" single, there's a scarcity of humor or imagination to every last "na na."© Dean Carlson /TiVo