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

Genre-ingesting prog rock virtuosos Polyphia recorded their fourth album, Remember That You Will Die, with contributions from producers like Rodney Jerkins (Destiny's Child, Black Eyed Peas), Johan Lenox (Big Sean, Machine Gun Kelly), and Y2K (Doja Cat, Remi Wolf), although bandmembers Tim Henson and Scott LePage helmed its production. It marked the group's debuts on both the Rise Records label and the Billboard 200 chart, the latter thanks at least in part to the star power of such guests as Grammy winners Steve Vai and Brasstracks, Deftones' Chino Moreno, and charting rapper $not, among others from just as wide-ranging corners of the music world. Highlights include the playful "ABC," featuring R&B-pop singer Sophia Black, and "Chimera," a relatively brooding entry featuring raps by Lil West. The album closes on the Vai showcase "Ego Death," a multi-act instrumental sure to delight fans of Polyphia's scorching funk-rock.© Marcy Donelson /TiVo

Mentored early in his career by Clark Terry, Bobby Hutcherson, Oscar Peterson and Wynton Marsalis, French soprano saxophonist Émile Parisien has an affinity for the American jazz scene. It's no surprise then that in an effort to broaden the conversations on Louise, his seventh album as a leader, Parisien added Americans Theo Croker (trumpet), Joe Martin (bass) and Nasheet Waits (drums) to his longtime associates Roberto Negro (piano) and Manu Codjia (guitar). The jazz constant of shuffling players in hopes of sparking fresh originality and inspired playing is an imperfect art. But here the successful results add further weight to Parisien's quest to make soprano saxophone a respected lead instrument rather than an occasional diversion best known from John Coltrane's My Favorite Things. Louise is named for French-American artist Louise Bourgeois, who while best known for her spider-like sculptures, also employed weaving in her work, which Parisien uses as a major theme as well. In the title track opener, Croker and Parisien establish an immediate connection. Parisien enters with the slow, unfolding drama of a sunrise over quiet low chords on the piano. He's soon joined by Croker, the grandson of trumpeter and contemporary of Louis Armstrong, Doc Cheatham, and the pair double lines with Codjia adding accents. The emotion here is cool and misty. The dialogue between Croker and Parisien deepens in the album's only cover, Joe Zawinul's "Madagascar" where a steady though not frantic rhythm drives the pace, while both horns find plenty of solo space. Pianist Negro also makes good use of his moments. Parisien's three-part composition "Memento" is at the heart of this album. A showcase for the thoughtful, plaintive tones and introspective writing that he prefers. "Pt. 1" features him and Croker playing legato horn lines while Codjia steps out on a screaming fusion-esque solo. "Part II" begins with a sprightly exercise of Negro's piano before insistent, metallic rhythms lead into "Part III" where Croker stretches his improvisational legs against a galloping bet. Later, Parisien nods towards bop's fast horn anthems of the past (think: Charlie Parker). Louise closes with Parisien's tender, layered global wish, "Prayer 4 Peace" where reverb on the horns add a resonant quality. This is a wonderful gathering of voices and ideas from a sextet whose obvious musical connections make for leader Parisien's most accomplished and substantial set so far, one that should give him further prominence in the jazz universe. © Robert Baird/Qobuz

Recorded in Gothenburg, Sweden, the Brighton, England-based metalcore unit's seventh studio long-player is as relentlessly heavy and doggedly melodramatic as 2014's well-received Lost Forever, Lost Together. It's also much, much better. Doubling down on the expansiveness of the latter release, All Our Gods Have Abandoned Us is both bedazzling and bewildering, an icy blast of politically charged apocalypse theater that pleases the eyes, but never ceases to box the listener's ears. That the band conduct such sonic malevolence from a platform built on veganism and environmental activism is both refreshing -- this is a genre that's often swimming in neediness, non-specific rage, and self-absorption -- and compelling. The reverb-heavy production work from Fredrik Nordström, which is likely informed by his time behind the board with melodic death metal giants like Dark Tranquillity, In Flames, and Opeth, contributes mightily to All Our Gods Have Abandoned Us' dark pageantry. Architects' signature blend of breakdown-heavy hardcore, symphonic screamo, and ambient post-metal has never sounded more muscular and refined. Fans who received an early taste of the LP via the towering single "A Match Made in Heaven" can rest assured that the remaining ten tracks follow suit, with highlights arriving via the punishing "Downfall," the pitiless and aptly-named opener "Nihilist," and the truly epic, eight-minute closer "Memento Mori," the latter of which suggests how Radiohead might have handled Kid A had they come from an extreme metal background instead of the baggy Brit-pop noughties. This is heady and hearty stuff delivered by a band surveying the ruins below from their creative peak.© James Christopher Monger /TiVo

Pagan or folk-metal, in which pummeling drums and roaring guitars match up with keening flutes and acoustic instruments from various folk cultures, has become one of the fastest-growing subgenres in metal, and Eluveitie created a sensation with their second full-length CD, 2008's Slania. This follow-up takes things to extremes, though, as the members of the Swiss eight-piece have put down their electric instruments and instead recorded an atmospheric, entirely folk-style record. Granted, they've done acoustic instrumental tracks on previous discs -- "Samon," "Anagantios," and "Giamonios" on Slania all plowed a similarly traditionalist groove -- but the focus on those sounds this time out offers Eluveitie the opportunity to expand their listener base beyond the metal audience. Their compositions continue to have the anthemic, cathartic power of metal, even without blastbeats or guitar solos, but there's an ominous feeling throughout Evocation I: The Arcane Dominion, particularly when Anna Murphy's hurdy-gurdy and new member Päde's flutes and whistles are droning and keening from the speakers. You'll be forgiven for looking down, expecting to see mist curling around your feet. Vocals in Gaulish, mostly by Murphy but sometimes by bandleader Chrigel Glanzmann, accentuate the Old World (really old -- the language predates Latin) vibe. The songs are all relatively short, and bracketed by intro and outro tracks as well as the short spoken piece "A Girl's Oath," so this journey into Europe's mystical past comes in under an hour, perfect for short modern attention spans. At the same time, it marks Eluveitie as one of the most interesting bands within their genre, and whets one's appetite for their return to full-blown metal. © Phil Freeman /TiVo

Brought up in the French-Flamish tradition but fed with the milk of Renaissance Italian madrigalism since he was about eighteen years old, Jacques Arcadelt (1507-1568) left behind him many gems whose importance has been realized only recently. Let’s acclaim this magnificent album gathering the Chœur de Chambre de Namur, the ensemble Doulce Mémoire and the Cappella Mediterranea, to give us not the complete marigals, songs and motets by Arcadelt, of course, but a large selection of his most stupefying pieces. These are thus madrigals from his First and Fourth Books released during his Italian years around 1540, songs from the various Livres de Chansons (Books of Songs) released between 1550 and 1565 when he was living in Paris, and motets from various eras in his career—mostly Italian, a bit French too since he moved from court to court depending on the jobs, the political assassinations, the change in alliances and, generally, the implausible chaos between the various power players at the time. As a nod, we also hear an Ave Maria “according to Arcadelt”, in truth an imitation by Louis Dietsch, a composer from the 19th Century, and the comical Ave Maria d’Arcadelt … by Liszt, inspired by the Dietsch imitation, for solo organ, an exercise in returning to your ancient roots like people loved to imagine them during the Romantic era. We could even wonder if Saint-Saëns didn’t use the head of the main theme to recycle it into his ”Organ” Symphony, incidentally. © SM/Qobuz

Texas-based Christian rock/emo-metal quintet Flyleaf’s sophomore release jettisons the raw, punk-infused angst of its platinum-selling debut, replacing it with a thick, punchy theatricality that is as progressive as it is radio-ready. Fueled by the electrifying voice of Lacey Mosley, who can build a city with a single soaring note and then tear it down with a lone caterwaul, Memento Mori (musically, at least) owes more to the tech-heavy, similarly faith-based King's X than it does the moody atmospherics of Evanescence, but there’s enough angst and obsession here to draw fans of the latter. At 14 songs, most of which bust out the gate with guns blazing, it can be hard to differentiate, especially when the group sticks to the formula of heavy riff/verse/heavy riff/chorus, but between the moody single "Again" and the alternately laid-back and elegiac closer "Arise," the five members of Flyleaf have come awfully close to finding and defining their voice.© James Christopher Monger /TiVo

What a treat to have a first solo album from Philippe Pierlot, the Belgian viola da gamba player best known for being the director of the Ricercar Ensemble, and what a double treat for it then to sound so absolutely ravishing. In programming terms alone, “Meditation” is a joy for its combination of variety and musicological storytelling. A charting of the viola da gamba’s time in the sun via the music of its finest exponents, it opens with a selection of airs from Tobias Hume’s (1579-1645) The First Part of Ayres of 1605, which was the first complete collection of pieces for solo viola da gamba to be published on British shores. From there it’s a hop over the Channel to celebrate the instrument’s heyday in France. First for a handful of sarabandes and courantes, plus a chaconne, from Monsieur de Sainte Colombe (1640-1700). Then Les Voix humaines by Marin Marais (1656-1728), before returning to British shores for a few pieces by Carl Friedrich Abel (1723-1787), whose love for the fast-becoming-unfashionable viol saw him adapt his own pre-Classical style to something closer to that of his family friend and onetime teacher Johann Sebastian Bach. Pierlot then winds things up with his own transcriptions of two German works – the Prélude, Sarabande and Menuet from Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1 in G major, and a Meditation for harpsichord piece that Johann Jakob Froberger wrote on a trip to Paris in 1660. Recorded in Santa Maria di Micciano, the performances themselves have been captured with vibrant-toned intimacy, and a nice amount of church acoustic in the mix; and while there’s audible breathing, I’m inclined to think that it’s worth it for the pleasure of being really able to appreciate the timbres of hair catching – and of subtle mid-bow modulations in weight and attack – on gut string. Pierlot’s Thomas Allred 1635 viola da gamba meanwhile fully lives up to the viola da gamba’s ‘ambassador’ nickname with its mahogany’s sweetness, and Pierlot’s actual playing is as beguiling in the rhythmic rise and fall of an up-tempo Sarabande as in his programme’s many slower-spun lyrical moments. As for the album title, this refers to the programme’s first and last pieces, which serve as an ear-pricking way to finish by coming full circle, while having moved to an altogether different and more exotic place in stylistic and harmonic terms. Don’t leave too soon either, because as the Froberger’s final chord dies away there’s an inspired postscript in the form of far-off church bell chimes. © Charlotte Gardner/Qobuz