Off the Wall was a massive success, spawning four Top Ten hits (two of them number ones), but nothing could have prepared Michael Jackson for Thriller. Nobody could have prepared anybody for the success of Thriller, since the magnitude of its success was simply unimaginable -- an album that sold 40 million copies in its initial chart run, with seven of its nine tracks reaching the Top Ten (for the record, the terrific "Baby Be Mine" and the pretty good ballad "The Lady in My Life" are not like the others). This was a record that had something for everybody, building on the basic blueprint of Off the Wall by adding harder funk, hard rock, softer ballads, and smoother soul -- expanding the approach to have something for every audience. That alone would have given the album a good shot at a huge audience, but it also arrived precisely when MTV was reaching its ascendancy, and Jackson helped the network by being not just its first superstar, but first black star as much as the network helped him. This all would have made it a success (and its success, in turn, served as a new standard for success), but it stayed on the charts, turning out singles, for nearly two years because it was really, really good. True, it wasn't as tight as Off the Wall -- and the ridiculous, late-night house-of-horrors title track is the prime culprit, arriving in the middle of the record and sucking out its momentum -- but those one or two cuts don't detract from a phenomenal set of music. It's calculated, to be sure, but the chutzpah of those calculations (before this, nobody would even have thought to bring in metal virtuoso Eddie Van Halen to play on a disco cut) is outdone by their success. This is where a song as gentle and lovely as "Human Nature" coexists comfortably with the tough, scared "Beat It," the sweet schmaltz of the Paul McCartney duet "The Girl Is Mine," and the frizzy funk of "P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing)." And, although this is an undeniably fun record, the paranoia is already creeping in, manifesting itself in the record's two best songs: "Billie Jean," where a woman claims Michael is the father of her child, and the delirious "Wanna Be Startin' Something," the freshest funk on the album, but the most claustrophobic, scariest track Jackson ever recorded. These give the record its anchor and are part of the reason why the record is more than just a phenomenon. The other reason, of course, is that much of this is just simply great music.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Among the major tenor saxophonists of the last 75 years, Charles Lloyd has always stood apart. Most of his peers were based in New York but Lloyd, a Memphis native, often worked out of the West Coast.  He frequently collaborated with rock musicians in the 1960s and 1970s, including the Beach Boys, the Doors, Roger McGuinn, and others; at the time, it was uncommon for an important jazz figure to have such close ties to the rock scene.  Those associations reveal an artist open to new sounds as he follows his own path.Decades later, the octogenarian continues to be a singular force, and on the excellent 2024 release, The Sky Will Still Be There Tomorrow, he leads a stellar new band: pianist Jason Moran, bassist Larry Grenadier, and drummer Brian Blade. Lloyd revisits older material with fresh ears, and the double album also includes six new compositions along with versions of the spiritual, "Balm in Gilead," and J. Rosamond Johnson and James Weldon Johnson's hymn, "Lift Every Voice and Sing."On the opener, "Defiant, Tender Warrior," which features an arrangement by Lloyd and Moran, Blade deftly deploys rumble, clatter, and hiss to create a foundation and an enveloping atmosphere. Lloyd's fluttering high notes, just-so breathiness, and speedy note-flurries sensitively play off Moran's take on the piece's tender melody.  Lloyd's sole alto sax performance occurs on the title cut, one of the album's new pieces. At first, the track sounds like a loosened-up version of bebop, but soon Moran's dissonant piano changes the vibe. A groove that recalls Keith Jarrett (a former Lloyd sideman), emerges, and a spare, bluesy section follows. Wherever the music goes, the engaged quartet brings it to full flower. On "Beyond Darkness," Lloyd displays a warm, nicely shaded tone on alto flute. Blade's rolls and cymbal hits, Grenadier's groove, and Moran's impressionistic lines create a gentle pelagic ambience for Lloyd's lyrical explorations. Beyond darkness, indeed, this is wonderfully blissed-out music."Defiant, Reprise; Homeward Dove" looks back to the opener. The two tracks perfectly bracket an album that gracefully takes the listener on a journey with Lloyd and his sensitively attuned band. As the last notes sound, there is a sense of a cycle completed.  © Fred Cisterna/Qobuz

At 23 years of age, Stevie Wonder’s music is in its innovative stages in Innervisions, released on August 3, 1973. Playing all kinds of instruments, featuring musicians such as Jeff Beck, Ray Parker Jr., David Sanborn and Buzz Feiten, and touching on a range of themes from drugs, ghetto, spirituality, politics, racism and of course love with a big L, Michigan’s musical genius manages to create the ultimate fusion of soul, rhythm’n’blues, funk and pop. The sound of his synthesisers was unprecedented at the time and works well with this spiritual soul music that is full of crazy melodies. Innervisions provides the perfect soundtrack for difficult times in America, like in Living for The City where Stevie recalls the trials and tribulations of a young black man from Mississippi who went to New York for a job he would never get, before ending up behind bars (to make his 7-minute composition even more realistic, he incorporates street recordings, siren sounds and arrest-dialogues). With He’s Misstra Know-It-All, Stevie takes a thinly-veiled dig against the incumbent president, Richard Nixon. This album is the perfect addition to Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On released two years earlier as we leave the blues behind and embrace the broken American dream instead. It’s also very personal for Stevie Wonder, who has the original Innervisions cover engraved in braille, “This is my music. It’s all I have to say to you and all that I feel. Know that your love helps mine to stay strong”. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

The Last Dinner Party is a love-them-or-hate-them band: Either you are charmed by the theatricality—the high-fashion take on barmaid/wench costumery, singer Abigail Morris' over-the-top delivery, the musical girl-power of it all—or you are likely to roll your eyes. Lush, louche, lusty and fun, the band's songs and style draw from a history of Siouxsie Sioux, Bryan Ferry, Florence Welch and early '80s New Romantics. It's the kind of grand-scale zeitgeist shift, kick-started by Wet Leg, that was inevitable after the humble trend of lo-fi bedroom pop. "Nothing Matters," the alternative-radio hit, is truly excellent, with an alchemic formula of clicky New Wave drums, hair-metal guitar riffs, vivid trumpets and a cathartic chorus meant to be shouted at shows: "And you can hold me like he held her/ And I will fuck you like nothing matters." "Caesar on a TV Screen" is wonderfully weird, encompassing swoony verses, a mischievous Roxy Music-style pre-chorus and a majestic chorus. Morris (who sounds like her arched eyebrow never drops) chews up all the scenery—over-enunciating, milking her English accent, and having the time of her life—with lines like "And just for a second, I could be one of the greats/ I am Caesar on a TV screen, champion of my fate!" Earworm "My Lady of Mercy" is about having a crush on Joan of Arc and sounds like crusaders rushing into battle, complete with cheerleader handclaps, rumble-strip rhythm, a snarling guitar line from Emily Robert and a monster chorus. The Infectious "Sinner" offers tempestuous Morris the sweetened foil of guitarist Lizzie Mayland, as the two trade verses and harmonize over Aurora Nishevci's baroque piano; it feels like a delightful game of cat-and-mouse. Appropriately, Prelude to Ecstasy is mixed by A-list producer Alan Moulder, who has a long history of working with high-drama bands like My Bloody Valentine, Nine Inch Nails and Interpol, and he helps The Last Dinner Party go up to 11: Spinal Tap meets Velvet Goldmine. (Visually, it's hard to recall a rock band having this much fun with fashion—referencing everything from Picnic At Hanging Rock to Sofia Coppola's Marie Antoinette—since early Duran Duran and Culture Club.) Even the less-bombastic moments, like ballerina-sweet piano ballad "On Your Side" or the chamber pop of "Portrait of a Dead Girl," play cinematically. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Collecting up the seven albums recorded for the Atlantic label between October 1973 and December 1978 by the double bassist and composer Charles Mingus, as well as an entire album of previously unreleased alternative pieces, this magnificent box set captures the legendary jazz musician’s last major creative period before Charcot's disease would take his life prematurely in January 1979, at the age of just 56. While some of the records in this set have been enshrined in Mingus' discography’s pantheon since their release, others, for years, have been the victims of ignorance and carried less favourable reputations. Everyone respects the twin albums Changes One and Changes Two, recorded by the double bassist in 1974 at the head of a brand new quintet, during the same exact session. Propelled by the drums of the faithful Dannie Richmond, and featuring two newcomers to his galaxy, saxophonist George Coleman and pianist Don Pullen, these are traditionally recognised as his ultimate masterpieces. One of the great virtues of this compilation is that it allows us to appreciate the entire period with the benefit of hindsight, and appreciate the rest of his oeuvre. A few tracks deserve to be singled out: the freshness and bluesy charisma of Three or Four Shades of Blues, recorded by Mingus in 1977 at the head of an expanded band, features the talents of three young guitarists destined for greatness: Larry Coryell, Philip Catherine and John Scofield. The baroque luxuriance of the two long orchestral suites on the album Cumbia & Jazz Fusion, conveys subliminal dialogue between Duke Ellington and Nino Rota in a dreamy Latin context. The musician's last recording, the very moving Me Myself An Eye written and whilst confined to a wheelchair and obliged to accept the dual role of composer and supervisor of the session which, despite the conditions, vibrates throughout with an inextinguishable power of life. © Stéphane Ollivier/Qobuz

It was designed to be a blockbuster and it was. Prior to Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, Elton John had hits -- his second album, Elton John, went Top 10 in the U.S. and U.K., and he had smash singles in "Crocodile Rock" and "Daniel" -- but this 1973 album was a statement of purpose spilling over two LPs, which was all the better to showcase every element of John's spangled personality. Opening with the 11-minute melodramatic exercise "Funeral for a Friend/Love Lies Bleeding" -- as prog as Elton ever got -- Goodbye Yellow Brick Road immediately embraces excess but also tunefulness, as John immediately switches over to "Candle in the Wind" and "Bennie & the Jets," two songs that form the core of his canon and go a long way toward explaining the over-stuffed appeal of Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. This was truly the debut of Elton John the entertainer, the pro who knows how to satisfy every segment of his audience, and this eagerness to please means the record is giddy but also overwhelming, a rush of too much muchness. Still, taken a side at a time, or even a song a time, it is a thing of wonder, serving up such perfectly sculpted pop songs as "Grey Seal," full-bore rockers as "Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting" and "Your Sister Can't Twist (But She Can Rock & Roll)," cinematic ballads like "I've Seen That Movie Too," throwbacks to the dusty conceptual sweep of Tumbleweed Connection in the form of "The Ballad of Danny Bailey (1909-34)," and preposterous glam novelties, like "Jamaica Jerk-Off." This touched on everything John did before, and suggested ways he'd move in the near-future, and that sprawl is always messy but usually delightful, a testament to Elton's '70s power as a star and a musician.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Unable to perform his 2021 spring tour at the Royal Albert Hall due to COVID-19 restrictions, Eric Clapton, a staunch defender of free access to his concerts, is playing an intimate show at Cowdray House, a plush mansion in England’s Sussex countryside. Spectators? Only one. In the balcony, his wife Melia McEnery, for whom the work is titled, in the form of a declaration of love: The Lady In The Balcony: Lockdown Sessions. But anyone else can watch too, since the whole thing was captured by Russ Titelman and even screened in the cinema. This is how the maestro responds to the harshness of the current situation: by offering moments of grace. With his musicians Chris Stainton (keyboards), Nathan East (bass) and Steve Gadd (drums), Clapton plays a whole range of classic blues songs from his discography: Key To Highway by Big Bill Bonzy, his cover of JJ Cale's After Midnight, Man of the World and Black Magic Woman written in the early days of Fleetwood Mac by Peter Green, whom Clapton salutes in passing, or the vintages Layla or Tears In Heaven. The old friends end on electric with Muddy Waters' brilliant Long Distance Call and Got My Mojo interspersed with Bad Boy from Clapton's first album. With the unlikely acoustics offered by the venue and a particular attention to the impeccable sound recording, Slowhand goes on a journey, in a peaceful mood, among friends. A Dantean era calls for an exceptional concert. © Charlotte Saintoin/Qobuz

The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady is one of the greatest achievements in orchestration by any composer in jazz history. Charles Mingus consciously designed the six-part ballet as his magnum opus, and -- implied in his famous inclusion of liner notes by his psychologist -- it's as much an examination of his own tortured psyche as it is a conceptual piece about love and struggle. It veers between so many emotions that it defies easy encapsulation; for that matter, it can be difficult just to assimilate in the first place. Yet the work soon reveals itself as a masterpiece of rich, multi-layered texture and swirling tonal colors, manipulated with a painter's attention to detail. There are a few stylistic reference points -- Ellington, the contemporary avant-garde, several flamenco guitar breaks -- but the totality is quite unlike what came before it. Mingus relies heavily on the timbral contrasts between expressively vocal-like muted brass, a rumbling mass of low voices (including tuba and baritone sax), and achingly lyrical upper woodwinds, highlighted by altoist Charlie Mariano. Within that framework, Mingus plays shifting rhythms, moaning dissonances, and multiple lines off one another in the most complex, interlaced fashion he'd ever attempted. Mingus was sometimes pigeonholed as a firebrand, but the personal exorcism of Black Saint deserves the reputation -- one needn't be able to follow the story line to hear the suffering, mourning, frustration, and caged fury pouring out of the music. The 11-piece group rehearsed the original score during a Village Vanguard engagement, where Mingus allowed the players to mold the music further; in the studio, however, his exacting perfectionism made The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady the first jazz album to rely on overdubbing technology. The result is one of the high-water marks for avant-garde jazz in the '60s and arguably Mingus' most brilliant moment.© Steve Huey /TiVo

There's a narrative to the soundtrack for Bradley Cooper's 2018 remake of A Star Is Born, one that mirrors the one told in the movie. Often, the album features dialogue ripped from the screen -- a full 15 tracks, actually, amounting to seven minutes of this 74-minute album -- which means A Star Is Born almost plays like a Disney record from the '60s or '70s: it's designed to tide listeners over until they get a chance to see the movie again. Of course, A Star Is Born is a musical, so its soundtrack is filled with full-fledged songs, all of which serve the story that the dialogue gooses along. Strip out the distracting dialogue tracks and the plot of A Star Is Born is still evident, as the music moves from the grungy Americana of Cooper's character, through his affecting duets with Lady Gaga, toward her flashy pop, and then culminating with "I'll Never Love Again," the song where the two estranged lovers reunite. Each of these phases is expertly executed. Lukas Nelson assists Cooper in the rangy grunge of "Black Eyes," while Jason Isbell's spare "Maybe It's Time" is an affecting slice of Americana. The second stage, where Gaga is duetting with Cooper, fuses their sensibilities seamlessly, particularly on the aching ballad "Shallow" and loping country-rock of "Music to My Eyes," which was co-written by Nelson and Gaga. Her pop section plays like its own EP, and it's snappy, stylish, and savvy, particularly on the retro-disco of "Why Did You Do That?" and soulful "Heal Me." All the songs make sense narratively and on their own, so they hold together well and would amount to a first-rate soundtrack, if it weren't for those meddling dialogue tracks, which wind up sapping any kind of momentum for the album.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Borrowing heavily from Marc Bolan's glam rock and the future shock of A Clockwork Orange, David Bowie reached back to the heavy rock of The Man Who Sold the World for The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. Constructed as a loose concept album about an androgynous alien rock star named Ziggy Stardust, the story falls apart quickly, yet Bowie's fractured, paranoid lyrics are evocative of a decadent, decaying future, and the music echoes an apocalyptic, nuclear dread. Fleshing out the off-kilter metallic mix with fatter guitars, genuine pop songs, string sections, keyboards, and a cinematic flourish, Ziggy Stardust is a glitzy array of riffs, hooks, melodrama, and style and the logical culmination of glam. Mick Ronson plays with a maverick flair that invigorates rockers like "Suffragette City," "Moonage Daydream," and "Hang Onto Yourself," while "Lady Stardust," "Five Years," and "Rock 'n' Roll Suicide" have a grand sense of staged drama previously unheard of in rock & roll. And that self-conscious sense of theater is part of the reason why Ziggy Stardust sounds so foreign. Bowie succeeds not in spite of his pretensions but because of them, and Ziggy Stardust -- familiar in structure, but alien in performance -- is the first time his vision and execution met in such a grand, sweeping fashion.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Borrowing heavily from Marc Bolan's glam rock and the future shock of A Clockwork Orange, David Bowie reached back to the heavy rock of The Man Who Sold the World for The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. Constructed as a loose concept album about an androgynous alien rock star named Ziggy Stardust, the story falls apart quickly, yet Bowie's fractured, paranoid lyrics are evocative of a decadent, decaying future, and the music echoes an apocalyptic, nuclear dread. Fleshing out the off-kilter metallic mix with fatter guitars, genuine pop songs, string sections, keyboards, and a cinematic flourish, Ziggy Stardust is a glitzy array of riffs, hooks, melodrama, and style and the logical culmination of glam. Mick Ronson plays with a maverick flair that invigorates rockers like "Suffragette City," "Moonage Daydream," and "Hang Onto Yourself," while "Lady Stardust," "Five Years," and "Rock 'n' Roll Suicide" have a grand sense of staged drama previously unheard of in rock & roll. And that self-conscious sense of theater is part of the reason why Ziggy Stardust sounds so foreign. Bowie succeeds not in spite of his pretensions but because of them, and Ziggy Stardust -- familiar in structure, but alien in performance -- is the first time his vision and execution met in such a grand, sweeping fashion.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Although the Crusaders could not have known it at the time, their recording of "Street Life" (which features a memorable vocal by Randy Crawford) was a last hurrah for the 20-year old group. Their recordings of the next few years would decline in interest until the band gradually faded away in the '80s. However this particular set is well worth picking up for the 11-minute title cut and there is good playing by the three original members (Wilton Felder on tenor, soprano and electric bass, keyboardist Joe Sample and drummer Stix Hooper) along with guitarist Barry Finnerty; horn and string sections, plus additional guitarists are utilized on Sample's commercial but listenable arrangements© Scott Yanow /TiVo

Taj Mahal has released many kinds of albums in a six-decade career: folk, jump, country, blues of all stripes, sounds from Africa, the Caribbean, R&B, soul, collaborations with musicians from across the globe, and even children's records. Savoy moves in another direction still. Recorded in collaboration with producer, pianist, and longtime friend John Simon, this set offers blues-kissed reads of 14 tunes from the Great American Songbook. The album is titled as an homage to the iconic Harlem ballroom at 596 Lenox Ave. Mahal's parents met there in 1938 seeing Ella Fitzgerald front the Chick Webb Orchestra. Simon and Mahal discussed the project for decades, but August 2022 was when the planets aligned. They cut the set live with a core band and guests. Mahal's band includes guitarist Danny Caron, bassist Ruth Davies, Simon on piano, drummer Leon Joyce, Jr., and a vocal chorus with Carla Holbrook, Leesa Humphrey, and Charlotte McKinnon. Interestingly, Caron and Davies served in Charles Brown's band, and Joyce drummed with Ramsey Lewis for many years. "Stompin' at the Savoy" starts with spoken word; Mahal delivers a reenactment of his parents' meeting. As he commences singing and scatting the lyrics, backing singers underscore with oohs, aahs, and call-and-response. "I'm Just a Lucky So-and-So" is one of three Duke Ellington numbers here. The languid horn section plays a blues progression with added warmth and grace from Kristen Strom's swinging flute. The arrangement of George Gershwin's "Summertime" is delivered allegretto, with blue, finger-popping swing from lush horns. "Mood Indigo" benefits from co-producer Manny Moreira's accumulated years of big band and Broadway experience. His layered brass colorations add dimension. "Do Nothin' Till You Hear from Me" offers languid, late-night horns (except in the bridge when they deliberately evoke gospel), and Simon's tasteful comping adds drama. The fluid blues guitar break from Caron benefits with elegance and bite. "Sweet Georgia Brown" is meaty and sprightly as Mahal's grainy singing and scatting contrasts beautifully with Evan Price's "Parisian hot jazz" violin. Maria Muldaur -- one of the great interpreters of vintage blues, jazz, R&B, and country -- joins Mahal on the fun, sultry "Baby It's Cold Outside," with excellent violin, trombone, and piano solos. "Caldonia," Louis Jordan's striding jump boogie, offers pumping piano, swinging guitar, and smoking sax and trombone solos behind Mahal's good-time vocal. His harmonica joins Strom's tenor sax to elevate in Benny Golson's dynamic "Killer Joe," before "One for My Baby (And One More for the Road)" closes the set. Mahal references several classic versions and arrangements in shifting tempos, but he ultimately only sounds like himself. Savoy embodies the abundant joy of its predecessor, Get On Board: The Songs of Sonny Terry & Brownie McGhee, but the album offers added nuance, color, dynamics, and musical sophistication. It seemingly accomplishes the impossible by taking these (overly) familiar standards and breathing new life into them while simultaneously honoring their legacies as well as that of the historic Harlem ballroom. © Thom Jurek /TiVo

Reference album, rock monument, pop masterpiece.

The Last Dinner Party is a love-them-or-hate-them band: Either you are charmed by the theatricality—the high-fashion take on barmaid/wench costumery, singer Abigail Morris' over-the-top delivery, the musical girl-power of it all—or you are likely to roll your eyes. Lush, louche, lusty and fun, the band's songs and style draw from a history of Siouxsie Sioux, Bryan Ferry, Florence Welch and early '80s New Romantics. It's the kind of grand-scale zeitgeist shift, kick-started by Wet Leg, that was inevitable after the humble trend of lo-fi bedroom pop. "Nothing Matters," the alternative-radio hit, is truly excellent, with an alchemic formula of clicky New Wave drums, hair-metal guitar riffs, vivid trumpets and a cathartic chorus meant to be shouted at shows: "And you can hold me like he held her/ And I will fuck you like nothing matters." "Caesar on a TV Screen" is wonderfully weird, encompassing swoony verses, a mischievous Roxy Music-style pre-chorus and a majestic chorus. Morris (who sounds like her arched eyebrow never drops) chews up all the scenery—over-enunciating, milking her English accent, and having the time of her life—with lines like "And just for a second, I could be one of the greats/ I am Caesar on a TV screen, champion of my fate!" Earworm "My Lady of Mercy" is about having a crush on Joan of Arc and sounds like crusaders rushing into battle, complete with cheerleader handclaps, rumble-strip rhythm, a snarling guitar line from Emily Robert and a monster chorus. The Infectious "Sinner" offers tempestuous Morris the sweetened foil of guitarist Lizzie Mayland, as the two trade verses and harmonize over Aurora Nishevci's baroque piano; it feels like a delightful game of cat-and-mouse. Appropriately, Prelude to Ecstasy is mixed by A-list producer Alan Moulder, who has a long history of working with high-drama bands like My Bloody Valentine, Nine Inch Nails and Interpol, and he helps The Last Dinner Party go up to 11: Spinal Tap meets Velvet Goldmine. (Visually, it's hard to recall a rock band having this much fun with fashion—referencing everything from Picnic At Hanging Rock to Sofia Coppola's Marie Antoinette—since early Duran Duran and Culture Club.) Even the less-bombastic moments, like ballerina-sweet piano ballad "On Your Side" or the chamber pop of "Portrait of a Dead Girl," play cinematically. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Where her last album, 2019's Daylight, was quietly drenched in remorse and pain, Mother Road's ten tracks burn with passion from a recharged Grace Potter. Collectively, the album is  what she calls "a tantrum and a haunting." The spiritual inheritor of Janis Joplin and Tina Turner's fiery performance style and sassy soul shouter delivery, Potter radiates energy through her voice which is in fine form here, charged at turns by tinges of searching, anxiety and some good old-fashioned flipping-the-bird, go-to-hell spirit.  The title track, in which she indulges her penchant for wailing, sets the tone, but then "Ready Set Go" rolls into a stomping groove, followed by the singalong gospel of "Good Time," which features Benmont Tench on ARP string machine. The concept of life being a "mother road," appears in "Little Hitchhiker," a ghost story co-written with Natalie Hemby (The Highwomen), where Potter shows a sweet, patient side to her voice. Set to the rhythm of a galloping horse, "Lady Vagabond" is an inspired ride into spaghetti western territory in which Potter's husband and producer Eric Valentine plays castanets, shakers and kora. Having recorded in Nashville at Dave Cobb's famed RCA Studio A under Valentine's steady hand—he also produced her 2015 breakthrough Midnight—the band is made up of trusty veterans like keyboardist Benmont Tench (Tom Petty), guitarist Nick Bockrath (Cage The Elephant), bassist Tim Deaux (The Whigs, Kings Of Leon), pedal-steel guitarist Dan Kalisher (Fitz and the Tantrums), and drummer Matt Musty (Train, Gwen Stefani). Meant to project good times and confidence, the sonic profile is an aggressive rock sound, though occasionally on the edge of being too loud. While there's no question that Mother Road is more personal than anything Potter has recorded so far, the tour de force closer, "Masterpiece," takes lyrical intimacy to an entirely new level. It fully deserves the rank of "epic." Beginning its ballsy run with, "Somewhere in the middle of the seventh grade/ I realized that everyone my age was an asshole" it progresses through various physical and emotional specifics before a breathtaking midpoint summation: "Embroider all my vices/ Catharsis and crisis into one/ Incorrigible / Pendulum."  Back at full strength after a raft of personal challenges stemming from the avalanche of fame that came after Midnight, Potter is recentered and ready for more.  © Robert Baird/Qobuz