Although he is most famous for his innovations in soul and funk music, James Brown never lost sight of his blues and R&B roots. His albums often placed surprisingly rootsy covers of old chestnuts alongside his groundbreaking polyrhythmic workouts. This double CD compiles 30 of the bluesiest items from his vast recorded legacy. Cut between 1957 and 1985, most of the tracks actually date from the '60s; many of these, in turn, were laid down in the early part of the decade, when J.B. was gradually evolving from his more conventional beginnings. The artists whose songs are covered here read like a who's who of R&B pioneers: Louis Jordan, Roy Brown, Memphis Slim, Ivory Joe Hunter, Fats Domino, Chuck Willis, Little Willie John, Billy Ward, Guitar Slim, and Bobby Bland. It's quite an instructive insight into Brown's not-always-visible roots. It would be fair to say that this does not rank among his most exciting material, finding him in a smoother and more conventional style than his most innovative work. It is nonetheless always entertaining and accomplished, with Brown's love for this material shining through strongly in his committed interpretations. Especially intriguing are an 11-minute cover of Chuck Willis' "Don't Deceive Me" and a two-part, blues-based rap vamp from the early '70s, "Like It Is, Like It Was (The Blues)." The disc includes several unreleased cuts, alternate takes, and unedited versions of previously released songs.© Richie Unterberger /TiVo

Before The Beginning? Before taking over the sound waves with its most popular combination (with the presence of Lindsey Buckingham, Stevie Nicks and Christine McVie) Fleetwood Mac already existed in 1968. Risen from the ashes of the Bluesbreakers, this version of the band, created by the brilliant Peter Green (with two other guitarists, Jeremy Spencer and a very young Danny Kirwan, Mick Fleetwood on drums and John McVie on the bass), took inspiration from the Delta blues by covering some of its legendary icons: Robert Johnson, Elmore James, T-Bone Walker… In three discs, Sony has uncovered thirty live rarely heard versions from 1968 to 1970 -- including four demos. These tracks are phenomenal, unlabelled and therefore entirely appraised and approved by their creators, who present a vision of contrasts over the course of the record. It begins in 1968 with lively but consistent guitars, before a more wandering feeling to the music in 1970, with Green’s signature extended instrumental sections, like the vibrant 13-minute-long Rattlesnake Shake, the fierce Oh Well or the languid tones of the famous Albatross, all in more rough-around-the-edges versions. Sadly, Spencer would go on to join the Children of God, Kirwan would be thrown out due to his alcohol dependency and Peter Green’s genius slowly evolved into madness. This is a real piece of British musical history. © Charlotte Saintoin/Qobuz

A misconception has sometimes been associate with Norah Jones: that the Texan is little more than a pleasant light-jazz singer whose albums serve as harmless background music for high-brow and proper evening dinners. Though her writing, playing and eclectic collaborations, she has clearly proved that she is far more interesting than this cliché. And this 2020 offering is a new illustration of her complexity. As is often the case with Norah Jones, Pick Me Up Off the Floor is not quite jazz, not quite blues, not quite country, etc… Her genre-defying music works primarily to suit the song being played. Here we find what has been left behind after sessions with Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy, Thomas Bartlett, Mavis Staples, Rodrigo Amarante and several others.But for all that the result is not simply a contrived mishmash of collaborations but a collection of songs that hold the same silky groove (present on six out of 11 tracks on the record in which Brian Blade’s drums work delicate miracles) and calm sound which increasingly suits the artist, somewhere between pure poetry and realism. “Every session I’ve done, there’ve been extra songs I didn’t release, and they’ve sort of been collecting for the last two years. I became really enamoured with them, having the rough mixes on my phone, listening while I walk the dog. The songs stayed stuck in my head and I realised that they had this surreal thread running through them. It feels like a fever dream taking place somewhere between God, the Devil, the heart, the Country, the planet, and me.” Rarely has Norah Jones sang with such strength, like on I’m Alive where she sings of women’s resilience, or on How I Weep in which she tackles love and exasperation with unequalled grace. This Deluxe Edition contains two bonus tracks and a collection of 17 songs culled from Norah’s Live From Home weekly livestream series. Thie Live From Home selections include a mix of career-spanning originals and such covers as Guns N’Roses’ Patience, John Prine’s That’s The Way The World Goes Round and Ravi Shankar’s I Am Missing You. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

Don't take the title of John Mayer's Heavier Things literally. Mayer offers nothing heavy on the follow-up to his breakthrough hit, Room for Squares -- nothing heavy in the music and nothing heavy in the lyrics. No, Mayer is smooth, slick, and streamlined on his second or third album (it all depends if you count his 1999 debut, Inside Wants Out, half of which was re-recorded for Room for Squares, which itself was released in two different incarnations), playing things straight and following the blueprint his big radio hit, "Your Body Is a Wonderland," provided. The title Heavier Things does reflect his new directness, lacking the lithe playfulness that resulted in a Hank Mobley joke, of all things, for an album title last time out. That extends to the rest of the album -- the humor and interesting wordplay have been toned down, leaving very little ambiguity. Actually, there's little left unexplained on the record, with every song on the album spread across several grids explaining where they were written and how many beats per minute they are, breaking them down into keywords, charting what "suggested target points" on the body the song should hit (tellingly, not one track is targeted at the crotch), and even grouping the songs together by key. The latter is a bit of a mistake, since it shows that for all those jazzy major and minor seventh chords gliding by in his songs, he's keeping his songwriting pretty simple, sticking to D, E, F, G, and A, with a G minor thrown in for good measure. This, of course, is not really a problem for listeners, since most listeners don't care how a song is written as long as it sounds good, but this does confirm that he's kept things simple, concentrating on how the record sounds and feels. And, as a piece of mood music, this is really quite effective, delivering on how "Your Body Is a Wonderland" sounds, with some really nice lush, laid-back textures and songs that are melodic without being truly catchy. It's music that floats through the speakers nicely and never leaves much of a lasting impression; it's how a jazzier, laid-back, less adventurous, and MOR-oriented Dave Matthews would sound. Mayer is now more of a record-maker than songwriter, which will undoubtedly dishearten those who liked the song-oriented Inside Wants Out, but those who just enjoyed the sound and feel of Room for Squares should feel right at home.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Anywhere but Home is a live chronicle of where Evanescence have been since the spring 2003 release and subsequent sextuple-platinum reign of their debut album, Fallen. Recorded at a tour stop in Paris, the set includes all their hits, as well as a previously unreleased studio track ("Missing"). While it's a fine holdover until the recording of a proper studio follow-up, Home also reasserts Amy Lee's position at Evanescence's center. Throughout the band's rise, there was the drama -- co-founder Ben Moody's contentious departure, the are-they-or-aren't-they Christian rock debates -- but there was always the singular force of Lee, whose powerful vocals, strident public persona, and striking fashion sense broke down the doors of the alternative metal boys club. Appropriately, Lee is the star of Anywhere but Home. Her voice has an impressively raw quality live, and her banter with the fawning Parisian crowd is always engaging. The mix also favors her (as well as the prominent use of keys/synthesizers), which unfortunately lessens the effect of John LeCompt and Terry Balsamo's guitars and Rocky Gray's impressive drumming. Still, "Going Under" surges nicely into its anthemic chorus, and when the guitars do show up (like on "Everybody's Fool"), Lee matches their power easily. She takes a softer approach for the arch piano ballad "My Immortal," which becomes a singalong moment for 5,000 souls, and that song leads nicely into an extended vocal intro for the breakthrough hit (and Home standout) "Bring Me to Life." (Evanescence's cover of Korn's "Thoughtless" will be another fan highlight.) The album closes, as does Fallen, with the swirling, vaguely Eastern-tinged metal melodies of "Whisper," and Lee's throaty vocal endures even as the synths and processed choir effects threaten to engulf her.© Johnny Loftus /TiVo

Gary Clark, Jr. has been hailed by a number of critics as "the New Hendrix," which seems to be the fate of any guitarist who combines blues and rock styles at a considerable volume (particularly if they cover "Third Stone from the Sun"). While that's a blurb that may look good in Clark's press kit, it rather misses the point; Clark isn't a visionary, game-changing artist like Hendrix, but instead he's a canny singer, songwriter, and instrumentalist who has learned from the past and present, fusing them into a style that's distinctive and exciting if not necessarily revolutionary. Warner Bros. is also pitching Blak and Blu as Clark's "groundbreaking debut album," when in fact it's just his major-label debut, with four indie releases preceding it, making the confidence and ambition of this set a bit less remarkable. But if Gary Clark, Jr. isn't likely to change the way we look at rock & roll or rewrite the aesthetic of the electric guitar, he is one of the most interesting talents to come out of the contemporary blues scene in quite some time. On Blak and Blu, most of Clark's tunes are solidly rooted in the blues, but he's also folded in hearty servings of hard rock, funk, retro-soul, and even a dash of hip-hop, and the way he lets the flavors mix is a big part of what makes this album work so well. There's an undertow of Northern Soul on the dance-friendly opener "Ain't Messin' Round," "Travis County" is a no-frills rocker that recalls the Stones in fifth gear, "The Life" finds Clark moving back and forth between singing and rapping in a streetwise tale of drug addiction, "Numb" recalls the punk blues attack of the Black Keys and the White Stripes in its fuzzed-out blast, and the title cut samples both Gil Scott-Heron and Albert King as Clark melds conscious themes with blues backdrops. While the typical modern-day guitar hero goes out of his way to throw his dexterity in your face at every turn, here Clark shows off a tougher and more primal style, and though his chops are certainly good, he keep his solos concise and his attack muscular throughout. And if his songwriting is a bit uneven, he has an inarguable talent with both lyrics and melodies, and he's a good-to-great singer, sounding soulful and honest on every cut. Blak and Blu's production (by Rob Cavallo and Mike Elizondo in collaboration with Clark) is too polished and processed for its own good, but if this album isn't likely to change your life, it will make an hour of it a lot more interesting, and there's no arguing that Gary Clark, Jr. is a talent strong enough to match his record company's hype.© Mark Deming /TiVo

What a strange idea -- an unplugged reggae album. Stranger still is how well it works. On Miracle, the wispy-voiced Bim Sherman records some of the oldies that he seems capable of recycling endlessly ("Golden Locks," "Lovers Leap," "Can I Be Free from Crying") along with a few new songs, but what makes this session so unique is the instrumentation: acoustic guitars, strings, Indian percussion (courtesy of tabla virtuoso Talvin Singh) and only the most subtle smatterings of synth and electric bass. These versions of "Golden Locks" and "Bewildered" aren't even reggae, strictly speaking, but they sure are pretty. The string section plays in an explicitly Indian style, which, combined with the tabla, creates a strange West-Indies-meets-East-Indies sort of ambience. Skip McDonald's supremely tasteful guitar and multitracked backing vocals contribute significantly to the success of this weird but lovely album. In the Unintended Consequences Department: note how the spare acoustic setting of "My Woman" exposes the howling sexism of Sherman's lyrics. (Note: the entire program is presented in electric remixes on a companion disc titled It Must Be a Dream, available separately on the same label.) © Rick Anderson /TiVo

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