If you’d told David Gahan and Martin Gore a year before the release of this latest album (which was still in the making at that time) that its title would be somewhat foreboding, the pair would likely have agreed, but for a rather different reason. Memento Mori roughly translates to ‘remember you’re going to die’—that’s what was on Gahan’s mind having just entered his sixties, whilst also remembering his stepfather, the man who raised and cared for him, who had died at just 61. But fate would prove both twisted and cruel when, without warning, it would take the life of Andy Fletcher on 26th May 2022. Depeche Mode’s third man was just 60 years old.However, this sudden death was not what primarily guided the somber, melancholic content of the record. Most of it was composed during the pandemic, which must have forced the band to ask themselves countless questions about their existence, their future and how these doubts would be manifested within their music (though Fletcher’s death would inevitably alter their approach to these same compositions). This all gives rise to a record which, whilst rejecting any semblance of ‘joie-de-vivre’, is a real return to more gothic, vintage and organic sounds. The album’s quasi-industrial opener, ‘My Cosmos is Mine’, sets the tone for the darker journey to come. The album takes a more stripped-back approach to the melodies, where Gahan’s sobering voice steers clear of all excess.In the midst of this darkness, the emphasis on synthesized sounds from a seemingly bygone era strikes a nostalgic chord without losing its edge (‘Wagging Tongue’, ‘Never Let Me Go’). These textures are accompanied by more saturated tones, taking us right back to their flirtations with rock in the 90s (‘My Favourite Stranger’). Memento Mori sounds like a kind of condensed version of the band’s more delicate songs without becoming a simple reconstruction of them. It has a subtle beauty which surely highlights the expertise of the musicians behind it, despite being somewhat overshadowed by the erratic nature of their discography over the last twenty years. Light filters through the cracks here and there on this album however, like the song ‘People are Good’, reminiscent of the classic ‘People are People’ released almost forty years ago. Remember that you’re meant to enjoy it… © Chief Brody/Qobuz

Drummer Patrick Carney recently said the goal for the Black Keys' twelfth album was to have "fucking fun." Sounds like mission accomplished. If you've been waiting for Beck to make a sequel to Midnite Vultures, this might be as close as we get. He's pretty much a third member of the band on Ohio Players—co-writing and/or guesting on eight of the 14 songs. His SoCal sunshine (and backing vocals) can be heard on the relaxed fit of "This Is Nowhere" and freak-show single "Beautiful People (Stay Here)," a co-write with Dan the Automator that borrows the groove of "Feeling That Vibe" by Richard Mead. Beck takes the vocal lead on "Paper Crown," a thick slab of greased-up R&B decorated with deep bass, sassy Hammond, Moog, Vocoder and 808—and that's before Three 6 Mafia's Juicy J rolls in and brings the strut down to a cool, slow roll. It's hard to say who's zoomin' who here, but something about the collision of Beck, Carney and Dan Auerbach brings out a wonderfully weird, playful side of the Black Keys. Delightful "Don't Let Me Go" melds Four Seasons-style pomp, mod garage rock and funk horns while "Read Em and Weep" gives Halloween haunted house vibes—with Beck on organ and Auerbach's revved-up surf guitar conjuring the spirit of teen-tragedy splatter platters (á la Jan and Dean's "Dead Man's Curve"). And it's not just Beck along for the ride.  "... It's a big Saturday night party record," Carney has said. "We just had people come through the studio and throw a little bit of special sauce at each song." The band also brought in Memphis horrorcore legend Lil Noid for sleazy-sounding "Candy and Her Friends." And Noel Gallagher—"We were referring to him as 'The Chord Lord' because he's just a perfectionist with it," Carney told NME—leaves his mark on three songs, including "Only Love Matters," a tight stomp meant for cutting a rug. The Oasis songwriter was apparently in a real dance mood; "You'll Pay" is hip-swiveling, Question Mark and the Mysterians cool, with Auerbach perfectly working his falsetto. Gallagher picks up backing vocals on both of those as well as "On the Game," a mellowed-out live take with a Derek and the Dominos feel. "Fever Tree"—another Beck joint—has a psyched-out stomp. Carney's drums are monstrous, and Auerbach's guitar is like a buzzsaw, on dangerous "Please Me (Till I'm Satisfied)." "I Forgot to Be Your Lover," meanwhile, is solid gold soul: Auerbach really sweats the line "And I'm sorry/ I'm so sorry" for the gritty cover of William Bell and Booker T. Jones' silky Stax single. There's apparently even more to look forward to: A rumored Alice Cooper song didn't make the album, but may be out later this year. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Proving that she's both fearless and capable of almost anything musically, Dolly Parton has taken her induction in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame seriously and made a rock album built from a slew of favorite mainstream covers and several originals she wrote for the occasion. The respect she commands as a worldwide celebrity is reflected by the massive guest list whose vocal tracks were recorded elsewhere and mixed together in Nashville by producer Kent Wells and a veritable horde of engineers. Vocalists who make an appearance on the songs that they originally made famous include Sting ("Every Breath You Take"), Steve Perry ("Open Arms"), Elton John ("Don't Let the Sun Go Down"), Debbie Harry ("Heart of Glass"), and Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr ("Let It Be"). The voice of Lynyrd Skynyrd lead vocalist Ronnie Van Zant returns from the grave to sing a verse and duet on the choruses in the epic and appropriate closer, "Free Bird."  While Parton could have allowed a smile to peak out here or there on this massive undertaking, she plays it straight throughout.  Not surprisingly, women receive commendable attention as songwriters and guest players with performances by Ann Wilson, Parton's goddaughter Miley Cyrus, Stevie Nicks, Joan Jett, Lizzo and others. There are also flashes where Parton stops playing rock star. Her original "World on Fire" is a plea for unity and common sense to will out: "Now tell me what is truth/ Have we all lost sight/ Of common decency/ Of the wrong and right/ How do we heal this great divide/ Do we care enough to try?" What makes these 30 tracks work is that no one can sell it quite like Parton. While her voice strains on some  numbers—she's always been more of a careful interpreter than a furious belter—she's full of old pro wiles and is the soul of authenticity throughout; she gives her all to every number. In the rousing "(I Can't Get No) "Satisfaction" with P!nk and Brandy Carlile, Parton's between-line exhortations are heartfelt and spot on. Rather than arty re-interpretations or an empty marketing concept, this is an abundance of what Parton does best: feel the songs she's singing.  © Robert Baird/Qobuz

On her twelfth album with the Pretenders—truly her band, as not even drummer Martin Chambers returns for this one—Chrissie Hynde is aware of her age but not necessarily feeling it. There are no idle hands or thoughts of retirement on "Let the Sun Come," with its Peter Buck-sounding guitar. "We don't have to get fat, we don't have to get old/ We don't have information that we have to withhold … we don't have to fade to black/ Let the sun come in," the 71-year-old legend sings. But that's not to say she's stayed in the same place. The production is crunchier, darker than the Windex-clear sounds on the band's early now-classics like "Don't Get Me Wrong" and "Brass in Pocket," and Hynde is, as she has been for the past decade or so, in a balladeer mood. She sounds like a chanteuse on the torch-song burn of "The Promise of Love," occasionally breaking through the smoke to soar light and aloft. On "The Copa," her voice tracks an ancient-sounding Renaissance melody against lovely guitar noodling. She's not afraid to look back, but it's rarely with nostalgia. "I Think About You Daily"—featuring a lovely string arrangement by Radiohead's Jonny Greenwood—finds Hynde slightly trembling with emotion as she offers an apology to someone she hurt in the past. There are no such regrets on "Just Let It Go," seemingly about refusing to get comfortable or meet expectations. "What kind of career means a life in a cage?/ One day I could hear a distant bell toll ... I let it go/ maybe it's best to just let it go/ The changes were fast but the torment was slow," she sings, low and hazy on the verses as wailing guitar sounds like a cry for mercy, then flying on the chorus and supported by drums rumbling like release. "A Love" slightly echoes the energy of oldie "Kid" as Hynde plays it cautious in romance: "I'm not scared of your dark eyes/ They mesmerize and soothe/ But I don't mess with burning coal/ Or anything I can't control … I'm not scared of you/ I'm scared of what could be/ Like certain drugs/ One taste and then you're never free." Meanwhile, on "Merry Widow," she rides a gnarled melody to gleefully claim independence, declaring, "He thought love was competitive like sport ... so I left him at the port / I'm a divorcee, but I feel like a widow, a merry, merry widow." The music is a little bit mystery, a little doom-rock shadow and takes a snaking tarantella turn at the end. There are two real rockers here—"Losing My Sense of Taste" and garage banger "Vainglorious"—and Hynde sounds fantastic on both, especially as she delights in repeating the latter's title over and over, trying on different inflections and emotions like personalities. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Prince designed Purple Rain as the project that would make him a superstar, and, surprisingly, that is exactly what happened. Simultaneously more focused and ambitious than any of his previous records, Purple Rain finds Prince consolidating his funk and R&B roots while moving boldly into pop, rock, and heavy metal with nine superbly crafted songs. Even its best-known songs don't tread conventional territory: the bass-less "When Doves Cry" is an eerie, spare neo-psychedelic masterpiece; "Let's Go Crazy" is a furious blend of metallic guitars, Stonesy riffs, and a hard funk backbeat; the anthemic title track is a majestic ballad filled with brilliant guitar flourishes. Although Prince's songwriting is at a peak, the presence of the Revolution pulls the music into sharper focus, giving it a tougher, more aggressive edge. And, with the guidance of Wendy and Lisa, Prince pushed heavily into psychedelia, adding swirling strings to the dreamy "Take Me With U" and the hard rock of "Baby I'm a Star." Even with all of his new, but uncompromising, forays into pop, Prince hasn't abandoned funk, and the robotic jam of "Computer Blue" and the menacing grind of "Darling Nikki" are among his finest songs. Taken together, all of the stylistic experiments add up to a stunning statement of purpose that remains one of the most exciting rock & roll albums ever recorded.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

This album came about through a fortuitous convergence of circumstances. Shelly Manne & His Men were appearing at New York's Village Vanguard, sharing the bill with the Bill Evans Trio. Getting Riverside's permission to let the pianist participate, Creed Taylor set up a session at Rudy Van Gelder's studio with Evans and Manne sharing top billing. Manne's bass player, Monty Budwig, made up the trio. This was a busman's holiday for Evans, who was freed from the musical parameters he had set for his then-current trio. The result is that his playing seemed lighter, freer, and more relaxed than it had for a while. The album kicks off with a jaunty version of Irving Berlin's "The Washington Twist" from the unsuccessful Mr. President, with Budwig sharing the honors with Evans as much as Manne. Manne spends most of his time driving Evans into more diminished and sharper playing than was usually Evans' wont. Another relatively unfamiliar Berlin work, "Let's Go Back to the Waltz," gives full reign to Evans' lyricism. The longest tune on the set is an audacious, almost lampooned version of "With a Song in My Heart" with light chordal phrasing that pretty much characterized much of the tone coming from this session. Listening to these three, it's clear that everyone was having a good time and simply enjoying being relieved of their duties with their regular combos, even if for just one day.© Dave Nathan /TiVo

During pandemic lockdown, some people baked bread, others took up fostering kittens. Chris Martin, apparently, watched Star Wars. The Coldplay frontman has said that the band's ninth album was partly inspired by the Mos Eisley cantina band and "wonder[ing] what musicians are like across the universe." And honestly, thank god we have a band big enough to be able to afford to take chances like Music of the Spheres, because the results are thrilling. After the spacy intro "Music of the Spheres," opener "Higher Power" is a flat-out dance track, powered by a punchy electro beat, and joyously uplifting. Martin has said "the song is about trying to find the astronaut in all of us, the person that can do amazing things." (Although, at one point, he sings "Drocer nekorb a ekil mi"—"I'm like a broken record" in reverse.) It's the first example of the album being a family affair, too, as Martin's daughter Apple delivers the opening lilt. She also has a co-write on "Let Somebody Go," a lovely piano ballad that finds Martin duetting with Selena Gomez; it takes a surprising turn on the bridge, slipping into smooth jazz. Apple's brother Moses joins in on the chorus of "Humankind" (with an altered Stephen Fry on the intro), a supercatchy and energetic collection of bleeps and bloops and "alien" voices, '80s synth and strident acoustic guitar that is going to be awesome to work out to. It's a bit of a throwback to the dance-pop sounds of bands like MGMT circa 2008. It won't surprise you here to find out the record is produced by Max Martin, the man behind slick hits from Britney Spears, Katy Perry, Taylor Swift and others. His polished style is a surprising complement to Martin's unpolished rasp and a major asset on songs like "My Universe," a collaboration with BTS performed in English and Korean that cruises a funky groove of ’80s FM pop; it's an earworm we'll all be stuck with for months. "People of the Pride" pushes Coldplay in a new, edgier direction—complete with ominous garage-rock guitar and an emo-pop stomp. Curiosity "Biutyful" warps the vocals to sound like a cutesy ET crooning a space-lounge melody. Twinkly "Infinity Sign" incorporates the soccer chant "Ole Ole Ole." The record closes out with one of the most wonderfully grandiose, swing-for-the-stars songs of Coldplay's career. Clocking in at 10 minutes, "Coloratura" is the band's The Dark Side of the Moon moment, weaving in a music box melody, fluttering strings, McCartney piano and spacey Gilmour guitars. It name-checks Galileo's discovery of the Callisto moon and declares,"It's the end of death and doubt and loneliness is out ... Coloratura, the place we dreamed about." (It will be great for planetarium laser shows.) Martin's voice cracks in all the right places, and the idea—"In the end it's all about the love you're sending out—is so elemental but expressed with such a sense of wonder about and gratitude for the universe, you can’t help but feel a sense of hope. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

One of three trio albums that pianist Keith Jarrett recorded with bassist Gary Peacock and drummer Jack DeJohnette during the same month, this second volume of Standards gets the edge over the first due to its slightly more challenging material. Jarrett, who has often taken himself a bit too seriously, is surprisingly playful at times in this format. In addition to Jarrett's "So Tender," there are such superior songs explored on this date as Alec Wilder's "Moon and Sand," "If I Should Lose You" and "I Fall in Love Too Easily." Bassist Gary Peacock and drummer Jack DeJohnette listen closely to Jarrett and no matter what direction the pianist turns, they are already there waiting for him.© Scott Yanow /TiVo

Often pigeonholed as being prolific to a fault, Beck took an extended break from recording after the 2008 release of Modern Guilt. He kept himself busy, producing acclaimed albums for Charlotte Gainsbourg, Thurston Moore, and Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks, blowing off steam via his mischievous Record Club (an online series where he and his friends covered classic albums), and then easing back to original songwriting through the ambitious Song Reader project, a folio containing sheet music for 20 unrecorded songs. He also suffered a spinal injury in 2008, a fact not publicized until he was ready to release Morning Phase, his first album in six years, early in 2014. As Morning Phase is a slow, shimmering album deliberately in the vein of classic singer/songwriter LPs, it's easy to think of it as a pained, confessional sequel to Sea Change, the 2002 record written and recorded in the wake of a painful romantic breakup. Beck didn't shy away from these comparisons, calling it a "companion piece" to his acclaimed 2002 LP, and as "Morning" glimmers into view, sounding for all the world like "Golden Age," it almost seems as if Beck covered himself as part of the Record Club. Morning Phase soon develops its own distinct gait, one that's a little more relaxed than its cousin. Crucially, Beck has swapped sorrow for mere melancholy, a shift in attitude that makes this 2014 album sweeter than its predecessor, a distinction sometimes distinguished by moments where words, traditionally the sadness signifiers for sensitive troubadours, are washed away by cascading waves of candy-colored sound. Underneath this warm, enveloping aural blanket lie some sturdily constructed compositions -- the haunting "Heart Is a Drum," bringing to mind memories of Nick Drake; the loping country-rock "Say Goodbye" and its sister "Country Down"; "Blue Moon," where the skies part like the breaking dawn -- but the abiding impression left from this album is one of comfort, not despair, which makes Morning Phase distinctly different than its companion Sea Change.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Divinely Uninspired to a Hellish Extent is the debut studio LP from Scottish singer/songwriter Lewis Capaldi. Composed of heartwarming lyrics, huge singalong choruses, and crystalline pop production, the effort features the singles "Grace" and "Hold Me While You Wait."© Rob Wacey /TiVo

March 1985 was a golden age for Rogers Nelson… at just 27 years old, Prince already had six huge albums to his name: For You (1978), Prince (1979), Dirty Mind (1980), Controversy (1981), 1999 (1982) and, of course, the massive Purple Rain (1984) which catapulted him into superstardom. His seventh album, Around the World in a Day, was released just a month after he finished touring. This record set his music on a new trajectory, experimenting with rock, pop and even psychedelic sounds. This live album was recorded in Syracuse, New York, on the 30th of March 1985 during his Purple Rain tour, and Prince made sure to pepper it with genius. This genius was multiplied tenfold by the adrenaline he put into his stage performances. Everything he touched would fizzle and spark with energy. He was supported by his fantastic band, The Revolution, which was composed of Bobby Z. on drums, Brown Mark on bass, Dr. Fink on keyboard, Eric Leeds on saxophone and the amazing twosome Wendy & Lisa on guitar and keyboard, not to mention guests such as percussionist Sheila E. His compositions, each one more perfect than the last, contain raw rock, pop and rhythm & blues. They’re a far cry from the old Prince from the decade prior, who was more inclined to stretch his tracks into extra-long improvs that flirted with jazz-fusion. He still enjoys making the pleasure last on this album, as evidenced by Baby I’m a Star, however, he maintains a funky, rock n roll beat throughout. Remixed by the sound engineer Chris James, who he would continue to work with throughout his later career, this reissue is a momentous release that can only be described with superlatives. Its explosive tone is established right from the opening track, Let’s Go Crazy. Prince and The Revolution: Live is 1 hour and 54 minutes of pure brilliance. It’s a must-listen! © Marc Zisman/Qobuz