For his second solo album in a year -- not counting his excursion with Black Country Communion -- Joe Bonamassa, the hardest working blues-rock guitarist of the 21st century, strikes up a bit of a smoky Black Keys vibe, signaling that he’s not quite as devoted to the past as he may initially seem. It’s not the only trick he has up his sleeve, either. Appropriately enough for an album entitled Dust Bowl, Bonamassa kicks up some country dirt on this record, enlisting John Hiatt for a duet on the songwriter’s “Tennessee Plates” and bringing Vince Gill in to play on the lazy shuffle “Sweet Rowena.” These are accents to an album that otherwise sticks to Bonamassa’s strong suit of blues in the vein of Cream, Stevie Ray, and Gary Moore, but it’s just enough of a difference to give Dust Bowl a distinctive flavor and suggests that the guitarist’s constant work is pushing him to synthesize his clear influences into something that is uniquely his own. © Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

"A LIVING COMMODITY has significantly more variety and shifts in tone, indicating a much more thoroughly considered exploration of emotion and trauma."© TiVo

Rome, a long-gestating collaboration between producer Brian Joseph Burton (aka Danger Mouse) and Italian composer Daniele Luppi, pays tribute to Italian cinema’s spaghetti Western era with the subtlety of a revolver to the forehead. Lovingly detailed, atmospheric, and oozing the Technicolor glow of a smoke-stained '70s movie screen, Rome is awfully hard not to cheer for, even when it’s stuck on autopilot, as rarely do pet projects feel this alive and sumptuous. Burton and Luppi were wise to bring on Jack White and Norah Jones to flesh things out, as their vocal contributions provide a much-needed break from the immaculate yet familiar melodies. Jones, with her smoky timbre and laid-back delivery, brings a cool confidence to standout cuts like “Season’s Trees” and “Black," while White, who spent countless hours driving around and listening to the instrumental mixes while bouncing ideas into a hand-held tape recorder, manages to make songs like “Two Against One” and “The World,” the latter of which features a knockout octave vocal, feel as sinister as their intentions. Rome’s instrumental bits feel nearly interchangeable with their Morricone/Tarantino counterparts, but there’s a joyful lawlessness to the whole affair that makes it feel less like a lark and more like a fever dream come to unlikely fruition.© James Christopher Monger /TiVo

Though Higher Octave Music has branched out into many different genres in its 15-year existence, the label was launched as a new age venture with numerous meditation-minded releases. B-Tribe's label debut combines this dreamy, floating vibe of relaxation with pleasant melodies and worldbeat touches reminiscent of the label's catalog in that genre. Think John Serrie with a few exotic brushes from Ottmar Liebert. Claus Zundel, the mastermind behind this appealing sound, recorded this effort in Ibiza, Spain, and Miami, and so it's no surprise that many of the tracks incorporate the mystical, exotic flamenco guitar weavings of Paco Fernandez. The "Intro" finds Fernandez noodling as if in search of a theme as a wash of synth mood and spacy energy wafts into the background. "Adagio in G-Minor" is a slow, brooding seduction that begins purely atmospheric but then incorporates a dreamy guitar melody. On "La Guitarra," there is a blend of low and high acoustic guitar lines with a soaring wordless female vocal moving in and out in the background. "Sketches of St. Antoni" features the lazy flügelhorn of Mark Smith, and sounds like a sweet little outtake from a Chris Botti project. The tempo pretty much stays at the meditational pace throughout, sometimes (as on "Sunset in San Carlos") drawing upon combinations of Eastern textures and medieval church flavors. Definitely soothing.© Jonathan Widran /TiVo

Of all the records Willie Nelson made in the 1990s and since that time, none is more misunderstood or ignored than Spirit. Coming as it did so quietly and unobtrusively in 1996, a year and a half before the celebrated Teatro, Spirit is Willie's most focused album of that decade. Self-produced and featuring the sparest of instrumental settings -- Willie and Jody Payne play guitars, Bobbie Nelson plays piano, and Johnny Gimble plays fiddle on certain tracks -- Nelson weaves a tapestry, a song cycle about brokenness, loneliness, heartbreak, spiritual destitution, and emerging on the other side. The set begins with the instrumental "Matador," which seems to usher in the atmospheric texture for this album. "She's Gone" tells its heartbreak story with as much lilt and pastoral grace as is possible without being sentimental. Willie's guitar soloing is gorgeous; he's deep in the groove of the washes of Bobbie's chords. Hearing a steel-string guitar play rhythm and a nylon-string guitar play lead is an interesting twist as well. But Nelson digs the notion of "She's Gone" deeper into the listener's consciousness with "Your Memory Won't Die in My Grave": "Been feelin' kinda free/But I'd rather feel your arms around me/Because you're takin' away/Everything I ever wanted..../It's a memory today, it'll be a memory tomorrow/I hope you're happy someday/"Your memory won't die in my grave...." And when Nelson moves to the full acceptance issue as he does on "I'm Not Trying to Forget You," the music is slightly off-kilter in the intro, as if the singer cannot come to grips with the song. Payne plays just behind Willie, stretching time, making it slip and shimmer all the way into "Too Sick to Pray," the most devastating country waltz to be recorded since Johnny Paycheck's Little Darlin' albums. On "I'm Waiting Forever" and "We Don't Run," the sun begins to rise out of the heart's bleak night and comes to the dawn of a new day in the life of love and spiritual connection. This is Nelson writing conceptually as he did early on with Phases and Stages and Red Headed Stranger, but he is at his understated best here, moving deeply into the skeleton of the song itself and what it chooses to reveal through the singer. And while Spirit is quiet, it's a tough, big record that makes you confront the roar of silence in your own heart.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

Issued in 2005, Matador was the fifth record by French pop rock trio Mickey 3d. Named after lead singer Mickey and his previous band 3dk, Mickey 3d play a relaxed semi-acoustic brand of melodic rock that in its deliberate simplicity recalls the work of Manu Chao. In French-speaking countries, Mickey 3d are moderately successful due to their socially oriented ironic lyrics and energetic live performances.© Sergey Mesenov /TiVo

Grant Green recorded so much high-quality music for Blue Note during the first half of the '60s that a number of excellent sessions went unissued at the time. Even so, it's still hard to figure out why 1964's Matador was only released in Japan in 1979, prior to its U.S. CD reissue in 1990 -- it's a classic and easily one of Green's finest albums. In contrast to the soul-jazz and jazz-funk for which Green is chiefly remembered, Matador is a cool-toned, straight-ahead modal workout that features some of Green's most advanced improvisation, even more so than his sessions with Larry Young. Part of the reason for that is that Green is really pushed by his stellar backing unit: pianist McCoy Tyner, bassist Bob Cranshaw, and drummer Elvin Jones. Not only is Green leading a group that features one-half of the classic Coltrane Quartet, but he even takes on Coltrane's groundbreaking arrangement of "My Favorite Things" -- and more than holds his own over ten-plus minutes. In fact, every track on the album is around that length; there are extended explorations of two Green originals ("Green Jeans" and the title track) and Duke Pearson's Middle Eastern-tinged "Bedouin," plus the bonus cut "Wives and Lovers," a swinging Bacharach pop tune not on the Japanese issue. The group interplay is consistently strong, but really the spotlight falls chiefly on Green, whose crystal-clear articulation flourishes in this setting. And, for all of Matador's advanced musicality, it ends up being surprisingly accessible. This sound may not be Green's claim to fame, but Matador remains one of his greatest achievements. © Steve Huey /TiVo

Kenny Dorham's Matador can safely claim the all too common distinction of being a classic among jazz connoisseurs while virtually unknown to the casual listener. Dorham is joined here by Jackie McLean, Bobby Timmons, Teddy Smith, and J.C. Moses, all of whom deliver outstanding performances. More than anything, this session is perhaps best known for including a stunning version of McLean's composition "Melody for Melonae," used less than a month earlier on his groundbreaking Blue Note LP Let Freedom Ring. For this session, though, the tune is renamed "Melanie" and, if not better, this version at least rivals the take under McLean's leadership. For starters, the addition of another horn adds some tonal depth to the proceedings, a situation arguably lacking in the tune's earlier recording. Also of note is what has to be Bobby Timmons' most intense moment on record. One rarely has the opportunity to hear Timmons dig and scrape as hard as he does during this solo, and his barely audible vocal accompaniment (à la Bud Powell) only helps to prove this point. This is a case where a performer not commonly associated with seriously stretching out goes at it with a life-affirming fervor, making "Melanie" a treat for listeners who revel in emotional performances. Other highlights include the opener, "El Matador," a 5/4 number that, frankly, fades out just when things were getting good, and the otherwise unaccompanied Dorham/Timmons duet, "Prelude." A fantastic session by any standard.© Brandon Burke /TiVo

Drummer Billy Cobham was fresh from his success with the Mahavishnu Orchestra when he recorded his debut album, which is still his best. Most of the selections showcase Cobham in a quartet with keyboardist Jan Hammer, guitarist Tommy Bolin, and electric bassist Lee Sklar. Two other numbers include Joe Farrell on flute and soprano and trumpeter Jimmy Owens with guitarist John Tropea, Hammer, bassist Ron Carter, and Ray Barretto on congas. The generally high-quality compositions (which include "Red Baron") make this fusion set a standout, a strong mixture of rock-ish rhythms and jazz improvising.© Scott Yanow /TiVo

There is lots of variety on this CD reissue, which features guitarist Jim Hall in several different settings. He has separate duets with pianist Don Thompson (Hoagy Carmichael's delightful "One Morning In May"), his wife Jane Hall (who sings "When I Fall In Love"), pianist Tommy Flanagan, and drummer Terry Clarke. He also overdubs acoustic and electric guitars on his solo "Down the Line," teams up with pianist Flanagan and flugelhornist Art Farmer on two duets, and uses a slightly larger group on "Lament for a Fallen Matador," a Don Sebesky adaptation of a classical piece that has the haunting voice of Joan LaBarbara. Overall, there is plenty of intriguing music on this recommended set.© Scott Yanow /TiVo

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Garland Jeffreys employed a studio full of high-priced session musicians on his last album, 1978's One-Eyed Jack, but the disc failed to capitalize on the breakthrough represented by its predecessor, 1977's Ghost Writer, which had employed much the same group of players. A year-and-a-half later, on American Boy & Girl, Jeffreys is accompanied by his stage band, A&M Records apparently cutting the recording budget or finally realizing that it's Jeffreys' songs more than his musicians that matter. This collection is a good representation of his street poet persona, in which he sings feelingly of the challenges faced by lower class urban youth in their struggle to escape their upbringing. "City Kids" puts the matter in stark terms, the lyrics a first-person account from one of the "Delinquents and reprieves/Orphans and the City Kids" who survive on the street committing crimes "for a thrill" and, as Jeffreys repeats 12 times in a mid-song mantra, "Shootin' dope." "American Boy & Girl," which follows, finds the singer describing two young people, again challenged by drugs and desperation, but hoping that "a little inspiration" will save them and pleading in the chorus, "don't you let me down." Clearly, the songwriter sees himself as one who managed to save himself from similar circumstances, and he devotes songs like "Livin' for Me," "Ship of Fools," and "If Mao Could See Me Now" to declarations of self-worth and accomplishment. "I'm not livin' for you, baby," he sings in the first of them, "I'm livin' for me," and in the second adds, "Some folks say that I'm here for them/That I'm here for you/But I'm here for me/And that's true." While such statements may sound selfish or arrogant out of context, Jeffreys makes clear that it is the narrator's ability to assert his own worth that separates him from the fate of the criminal and addict that might have awaited him. Unlike some who have romanticized street life, Jeffreys faces it unsentimentally, but he also addresses it with an expressive tenor and a set of rock & roll and reggae tunes that make the message go down easier.© William Ruhlmann /TiVo