With Paranoïa, Angels, True Love, Christine And The Queens embarks on a long spiritual journey, with Madonna as their guiding high priestess. The two artists met in 2015 during a concert by the American, when Madonna had invited him to go on stage to choreograph a few dance steps. For this album, Christine And the Queens called on her to speak instead of sing. Seduced by the sheer madness of the project, Madonna agreed to take part in three songs (Angels Crying in My Bed, I Met an Angel and Lick the Light Out). Christine And The Queens wanted to salute this iconic voice "which speaks with all the facets inscribed in our consciousness, taking on multiple forms and roles, from the maternal figure to the dominatrix". As for the second feature of the album, the American singer and rapper 070 Shake, who can be heard on True Love and Let Me Touch You Once, makes an appearance. The spiritual form of Paranoïa, Angels, True Love owes a lot to the music produced by Mike Dean (who works with Jay-Z and Beyoncé). Often coated with a trip hop colour that reflects the multiple influences of Christine And The Queens, the tracks cede the place of honour to spectrally high strings and ecstatic electric guitar solos. We also hear a mystical cover of Canon de Pachelbel (Full of Life). Finally, this album is a way for Christine and the Queens to showcase the full range of their voice, which has never been so mixed and reverberated, for it to have maximum effect (A Day in the Water). Paranoia, Angels, True Love can be perceived as the singer's tribute to a highly determined English-speaking pop, but the air of strange musical comedy shows that this resolutely atypical object belongs only to them. © Nicolas Magenham/Qobuz

461 Ocean Boulevard is Eric Clapton's second studio solo album, arriving after his side project of Derek and the Dominos and a long struggle with heroin addiction. Although there are some new reggae influences, the album doesn't sound all that different from the rock, pop, blues, country, and R&B amalgam of Eric Clapton. However, 461 Ocean Boulevard is a tighter, more focused outing that enables Clapton to stretch out instrumentally. Furthermore, the pop concessions on the album -- the sleek production, the concise running times -- don't detract from the rootsy origins of the material, whether it's Johnny Otis' "Willie and the Hand Jive," the traditional blues "Motherless Children," Bob Marley's "I Shot the Sheriff," or Clapton's emotional original "Let It Grow." With its relaxed, friendly atmosphere and strong bluesy roots, 461 Ocean Boulevard set the template for Clapton's '70s albums. Though he tried hard to make an album exactly like it, he never quite managed to replicate its charms.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Star Fleet Project was a pretty slim, weird bit of ephemera when originally released in 1983. The mini-LP had two pretty good (but long) songs on side one, and a seemingly interminable 13-minute jam on side two. There were no band photos on the front or back, just a mysterious "Brian May + Friends" emblazoned above a grainy film still of a Japanese robot on the front cover and an unassuming rundown of contributing artists on the back: Edward Van Halen, Alan Gratzer, Phil Chen and Fred Mandel. Of course, everyone recognized Edward Van Halen, but only the most devoted rock fans were likely familiar with Gratzer (drummer, REO Speedwagon), while bassist Chen and pianist Mandel were session pros whose name recognition was limited to the most voracious liner-notes readers. Star Fleet—in its brevity, intentional anonymity, and utter disregard for marketplace concerns—felt a bit talismanic, a pre-internet slice of IYKYK.The casual carelessness that made it feel so special also made it the kind of record that turned out to be more fun to talk about than to actually listen to repeatedly. Although "Star Fleet" (a cover a Japanese kids' show title theme) was an exhilarating concoction of child-friendly earworm chorus, stacked May vocals, and jaw-dropping guitar work, and "Let Me Out" at least sounded like someone bothered to write a hook for it before the engineer hit the record button, the side-long "Blues Breaker (Dedicated to E.C.)" had the excitement of hearing May and Van Halen trade licks tempered by there being no vocals, no melodies, and not really much of a point. It was, in the end, exactly what it purported to be: a relatively un-premeditated jam among friends who had a couple days of studio time to burn. Thankfully, this 40th anniversary edition doesn't attempt to rewrite history or ascribe any undeserved importance to the material. Instead, May has produced a literal tape dump of a release, compiling, as he says, "every take from the historic 1983 sessions plus fragments of conversations, outtakes and musical experimentation." If three songs stretched into a half-hour seemed like a little much, try three songs stretched into two hours and 15 minutes. While it's great to get Star Fleet back into print, and in Hi-Res audio, this is an archival release for posterity, rather than an opportunity to recontextualize or revisit the material (although May wisely places a single edit of "Star Fleet" at the beginning, tightening up the original sequence). Multiple takes, a few extra cursory jams, some live performances a decade later (without any of the original players besides May), even promotional radio interviews… This set truly does take a comprehensive approach. You'll still only listen to the first 20 minutes though. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

Ella Fitzgerald had the ability to personalize some of the most recognizable material from the foremost songwriters in American popular music history. In this instance, the combination of Cole Porter's words and Fitzgerald's interpretation of them created one of the most sought after sessions in vocal history -- embraced by jazz and pop fans alike, transcending boundaries often associated with those genres. Originally released in 1956 on the Verve label, such standards as "Night and Day," "I Love Paris," "What Is This Thing Called Love," "I've Got You Under My Skin," "You're the Top," and "Love for Sale" secured one of Ella Fitzgerald's crowning moments. The success of these early Porter (and previous Gershwin) sessions brought about numerous interpretations of other songbooks throughout the next several years including those of Rodgers and Hart, Duke Ellington, Johnny Mercer, Harold Arlen, and Irving Berlin.© Al Campbell /TiVo

Producer Kanye West's highlight reels were stacking up exponentially when his solo debut for Roc-a-Fella was released, after numerous delays and a handful of suspense-building underground mixes. The week The College Dropout came out, three singles featuring his handiwork were in the Top 20, including his own "Through the Wire." A daring way to introduce himself to the masses as an MC, the enterprising West recorded the song during his recovery from a car wreck that nearly took his life -- while his jaw was wired shut. Heartbreaking and hysterical ("There's been an accident like Geico/They thought I was burnt up like Pepsi did Michael"), and wrapped around the helium chirp of the pitched-up chorus from Chaka Khan's "Through the Fire," the song and accompanying video couldn't have forged his dual status as underdog and champion any better. All of this momentum keeps rolling through The College Dropout, an album that's nearly as phenomenal as the boastful West has led everyone to believe. From a production standpoint, nothing here tops recent conquests like Alicia Keys' "You Don't Know My Name" or Talib Kweli's "Get By," but he's consistently potent and tempers his familiar characteristics -- high-pitched soul samples, gospel elements -- by tweaking them and not using them as a crutch. Even though those with their ears to the street knew West could excel as an MC, he has used this album as an opportunity to prove his less-known skills to a wider audience. One of the most poignant moments is on "All Falls Down," where the self-effacing West examines self-consciousness in the context of his community: "Rollies and Pashas done drive me crazy/I can't even pronounce nothing, yo pass the Versacey/Then I spent 400 bucks on this just to be like 'N*gga you ain't up on this'." If the notion that the album runs much deeper than the singles isn't enough, there's something of a surprising bonus: rather puzzlingly, a slightly adjusted mix of "Slow Jamz" -- a side-splitting ode to legends of baby-making soul that originally appeared on Twista's Kamikaze, just before that MC received his own Roc-a-Fella chain -- also appears. Prior to this album, we were more than aware that West's stature as a producer was undeniable; now we know that he's also a remarkably versatile lyricist and a valuable MC.© Andy Kellman /TiVo

Is there any better story in music right now than Orville Peck's? He makes old-school country—often with high-drama elements—sung in a baritone so rich and deep that it's almost unsettling, and wears a fringed mask to conceal his true identity. (Internet sleuths believe he is Daniel Pitout, the out-and-proud drummer for Canadian punk band Nu Sensae, which only makes the story more intriguing.) On his second album, a follow-up to 2019's Pony, his voice somehow sounds even richer: more Johnny Cash and Elvis Presley than Chris Isaak, one of the comparisons that followed Peck last time around. Steered by country super-producer Jay Joyce (Eric Church, Miranda Lambert, Little Big Town), it's also a waaaay bigger, grander affair. "Daytona Sand" theatrically cruises along on racing drums while the lyrics set up an evocative and sexy scene: "So rack 'em up, big blonde/ I think I could've been your man/ We watch the surfers as they whip on the strand/ Ah, Daytona sand." "The Curse of the Blackened Eye" is gorgeous, loping rhythmically like a mare on the wide-open prairie as Peck plays up an Elvis "uh-huh" and an almost yodel affect; the bridge, in particular, is glorious. (Country rocker "Outta Time" then offers a laugh when Peck croons, "She tells me she don't like Elvis/ I say, 'I want a little less conversation, please.'") "Kalahari Down" delivers big strings, harmonica and the great line "Yippee ki yi yay/ I'm always down/ For hanging around." "Trample Out the Days"—its guitar seeming to squint in the sun—showcases Peck's incredible range as he sings about being a cowboy in the big city (indeed, the album includes lots of Southern California, and LA-specific, references to orient you)."C'mon Baby, Cry" shimmies with '60s Vegas energy, Peck serving up an amazing, silver wail of "let me see you cryyyyyyyy" that would make Roy Orbison proud. (It's also thrilling when he growls, "I got an hour or so," turning the seductive sleaze up to 11). "Neck cracks, take-backs, no pen, sad sacks/ Swinging at the Troubadour, Dee's, skate Fairfax," goes "Any Turn," a fun "Subterranean Homesick Blues"-like hard-charger with a glitzy chorus. Here's to keeping the mystery train going. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Even if you were expecting something different, this still comes as a surprise. With Let’s Start Here, Lil Yachty, a rapper too easily lumped into the SoundCloud mumble rap crowd, ventures into psychedelic and synthetic pop. His cleverly autotuned voice is the only thing that reminds us it really is him. This fifth album is divisive—so much the better. By drawing upon the likes of Tame Impala, Pink Floyd, Tyler, The Creator and Frank Ocean, Lil Yachty seeks to establish himself as a recognised and recognisable artist. He relies on a team of producers, including Justin Raisen (Billie Eilish, Angel Olsen), Sad Pony (Nicki Minaj, Kelela), and Patrick Wimberly, one-half of the pop duo Chairlift. Lil Yachty frequently and skilfully pushes the boundaries of rap, not by simply stretching its limits, but by taking an altogether new direction and constantly positioning himself against them, anchoring himself in a completely distinct aesthetic. There’s no doubt that he’s mixing his favourite genres together here, but Let's Start Here is a new artistic path. Perhaps it’s nothing more than a fleeting digression, but it still features some fascinating tracks, such as the convoluted ‘REACH THE SUNSHINE.’ and the loosely rhythmic ‘paint THE sky’. Lil Yachty successfully achieves his goals with this album. He makes himself stand out and encourages people to consider his musical talents in a way that’s relevant, all whilst expressing a visceral need to explore musical realms other than those that the public would like to impose on him. © Brice Miclet/Qobuz

Recorded in 1957, Ella & Louis Again re-teams Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong after the success of their first album and a popular series of concerts at the Hollywood Bowl the previous year. Stylistically, Fitzgerald and Armstrong had very different histories; he started out in Dixieland before branching out into classic jazz and swing, whereas Fitzgerald started out as a swing-oriented big-band vocalist before becoming an expert bebopper. But the two of them have no problem finding common ground on Ella & Louis Again, which is primarily a collection of vocal duets (with the backing of a solid rhythm section led by pianist Oscar Peterson). One could nitpick about the fact that Satchmo doesn't take more trumpet solos, but the artists have such a strong rapport as vocalists that the trumpet shortage is only a minor point. Seven selections find either Fitzgerald or Armstrong singing without the other, although they're together more often than not on this fine set.© Alex Henderson /TiVo

The major-label full-length debut from California's Oliver Tree, 2020's Ugly Is Beautiful proves another showcase for the ironic bowl-cut and JNCO jean-wearing singer's bombastically hooky brand of pop. The album arrives on the heels of several buzzed-about EPs and Ugly Is Beautiful builds nicely upon those albums, juxtaposing catchy, '90s-style pop arrangements with vocals that seem at once cheeky and sincere. Mixing blown-out keyboards with distorted guitars, heavy basslines, and pounding beats, Tree has crafted a distinctively zoomer aesthetic, mixing a hot stew of influences from Nirvana and the Strokes to Eminem, Pixies, and sundry SoundCloud rap touchstones. It's a style that remains remarkably consistent even as he shifts gears, from the driving post-punk of "Me Myself & I" and the Beck-esque acoustic grunge of "Cash Machine" to the moody, synth-heavy club jam "1993." As Tree sings on "Alien Boy," "I fell down to Earth from a hundred miles away/And somehow I still make it work."© Matt Collar /TiVo

On 2017's Humanz, Damon Albarn returns to Gorillaz after a seven-year hiatus -- a period when he busied himself with two operas, a solo album, and a Blur reunion -- and reconnects with the collaborative instincts that drove the band's first two albums. Plastic Beach -- the 2010 album that served as the group's last major opus (The Fall, released just months later, was that LP's bittersweet coda) -- found Albarn stepping toward the center stage but on Humanz he recedes, giving his collaborators the spotlight and softening whatever complicated narrative he and illustrator Jamie Hewlett devised for their cartoon group's fourth phase. Maybe this is why Humanz feels wild and unruly in a way Plastic Beach never did: the emphasis is on the individual cuts, not the grand concept. Some themes are woven throughout the record -- there's a political undercurrent, although the upheavals of Trump and Brexit are never addressed directly; there's a heavy reliance on R&B and hip-hop -- but the album seems pleasingly scattershot as it bounces from guest to guest. Its messiness suits the digital era, when it's possible to swipe from style to style without a second thought, but Humanz isn't haphazard. Albarn deliberately sculpts each cut, giving plenty of space for Vince Staples, Grace Jones, Danny Brown, Anthony Hamilton, Mavis Staples, Pusha T, and longtime Gorillaz mainstay De La Soul to roam. That list of guest artists underscores how Humanz feels connected to soul in a way Plastic Beach didn't, but with its careening, carnivalesque hooks and skeletal 2-Tone spook -- not to mention how the whole thing is anchored on "Busted and Blue," a Damon solo track that could've slid onto Everyday Robots -- it's clearly an Albarn project. But even with its heavy, heavy R&B vibe and roiling politics, Humanz feels strangely uplifting, as if every musician who entered the studio found solace in the act of creation. That's why "We Got the Power" -- a collaboration with Savages singer Jehnny Beth and Damon's onetime rival Noel Gallagher -- is such a fitting closer: in dark times, it finds hope and inspiration in the power of the collective, which is a testament to what Albarn intends to do with Gorillaz.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo