Japan-born/N.Y.C.-based trumpeter Takuya Kuroda's Blue Note Records debut, 2014's Rising Son, is a funky, soul and hip-hop-infused affair featuring production from acclaimed jazz vocalist José James. Longtime collaborators, Kuroda and James met while students at Manhattan's New School for Jazz and Contemporary Music, and Kuroda later toured with James and wrote the horn arrangements for his 2012 album, No Beginning No End. Technically, Rising Son is Kuroda's fourth album after three previous independent releases that found him working through a more swinging, post-bop jazz sound, with the occasional funk-inflected diversion. On Rising Son, Kuroda delves deep into a '70s fusion, funk, and Afro-beat-influenced sound that is at once contemporary and vintage in approach. In many ways, the sound of Rising Son has a lot in common with James' own soul-jazz style, and his guest spot on Roy Ayers' "Everybody Loves the Sunshine" is certainly a highlight of the album. However, while there is palpable synergistic energy at play between James and Kuroda, it's Kuroda's assured, dynamic trumpet playing that grabs the spotlight on Rising Son. Backing Kuroda here is his working ensemble featuring trombonist Corey King, Rhodes keyboardist Kris Bowers, bassist Solomon Dorsey, and drummer Nate Smith. Together, Kuroda and his band play a clipped, muscular funk-jazz that shows the influence of artists like African-legend Hugh Masekela and trumpeter Roy Hargrove. Tracks like the Latin-tinged "Mala" and the frenetic "Afro Blues" (which showcases a guest appearance by famed West African guitarist Lionel Loueke) are hypnotic, pulsing, and joyous. Many of the songs on Rising Son have a modern, dance-ready sheen to them, with James pushing the drums to the front of the mix and cradling Kuroda and King's horns in a rounded, almost phaser-like mike sound. While some hip-hop-influenced jazz can seem rhythmically static, sacrificing improvisation for beats, the tracks on Rising Son never get too smooth. James leaves just enough organic grit in the mix to remind you that that this is live, improvisational music, not that you'd forget with Kuroda bursting through many of these cuts with a puckered intensity. And while this is unquestionably a jazz album, nothing on Rising Son feels like an intellectual harmonic exercise, as so many recordings by post-collegiate jazz artists sometimes do. Whether further illuminating the soul of Roy Ayers, or slipping ever deeper into the romantic slow jam of his own "Sometime Somewhere Somehow," Kuroda reveals himself to be a gifted melodicist with an abiding trust in groove, not to mention trumpet chops and charisma to spare. Ultimately, Rising Son isn't just Kuroda's major-label debut, it's a major artistic statement.© Matt Collar /TiVo

The debut from Mano Negra is more than a band wanting to be the Clash. It's the sound of a band becoming the Clash (it compresses all the musical sprawl of Sandinista! into a single disc), then going on to find their own sound, most especially with tracks like "Indios de Barcelona" and "Mala Vida," both of which would become staples of their repertoire. "Killin' Rats" is a perfect mix of hip-hop and rock, while their take on the traditional "Rock Island Line" (the song that launched the skiffle movement of the '50s) flows through several musical styles in the course of three minutes. There's nothing that complex about it, but the best rock & roll has always been simple. But there's an undeniable fire about Patchanka -- they sound as if they've just discovered rock, and they play as if their lives depended on it, with Chao singing (probably one of the few to take Joe Strummer as a vocal model) and the rest of the band offering soccer-style chanting as a background. They're not afraid of anything, they're immortal, and they swagger -- and they're often funny, as in the over-the-top fake applause that permeates "Mano Negra," the album's opener. Not everything works -- two of the English-language tracks, "Baby You're Mine" and "Takin' It Up" (which slows the pace -- a bad idea on an album that had been merrily careening to that point), seem like sops to an Anglo market, although the second half of the latter song does pick up with some fake rockabilly. There are plenty of touches of ska, as on "Bragg Jack," which fits in with the grab-bag music ethic, and the album never runs out of steam, a bravura piece of energy and invention, even putting a punk hold on flamenco with the closing "Salga la Luna." But perhaps its most remarkable achievement is that in 1988, when acid house was rendering guitars obsolete all over Europe, Mano Negra could make such a vital record that made rock important again.© Chris Nickson /TiVo

In July 2002, Manu Chao performed a live show in Japan, ending a worldwide tour carried out with his band, Radio Bemba New System, a multicultural group consisting of ten talented musicians from different countries. From Jamaican reggae to Latin alternative pop/rock, including rock en español, hip-hop, flamenco, and French rock, The Live Album delivers a collection of hits from 1998's Clandestino, 2001's Ultima Estacion Esperanza, and Mano Negra's legacy, the Parisian rock outfit named in honor of an Andalusian anarchist group that served as Manu Chao's breakthrough in the music industry. In addition, the 29-track record features the previously unreleased "Bienvenido a Tijuana," "Rumba de Barcelona," and a version of the classic Afro-Caribbean-inflected hit "Blood and Fire." Recorded at Paris' Grande Halle de La Villette in September 2001, The Live Album is a multilingual and experimental live experience featuring the best of Manu Chao. © Drago Bonacich /TiVo