Josh Homme's hard-rock brutality has always come with humor and a dash of campy, scenery-chewing flamboyance. Not even a very messy, very public divorce battle can change that, as evidenced by "Emotion Sickness," the first single from Queens of the Stone Age's eighth album, In Times New Roman.... The verses swing and rock like the band's great "No One Knows," while the creamy, classic-rock chorus could be lifted from Journey. "Baby don't care for me," Homme sings, turning a jazz standard on its head. "People come and go on the breeze/ For a whole life? Possibly." Borrowing its title from a line in "New Fang" ("Had it made to parade/ Found a sucker, now I want another") by Them Crooked Vultures, Homme's side project with Dave Grohl and John Paul Jones, "Made to Parade" sways low and wide like a big metal pendulum—then fires up a majestic, Brian May-esque bridge to the end. Homme, the last man standing from the original QOTSA lineup, invented his own very specific genre (including with his previous band Kyuss) in desert rock; sometimes metal, sometimes sludgy, sometimes psychedelic, sometimes bluesy, it has always allowed for flexibility. So QOTSA goes goth-dark on "Carnavoyeur," which works itself into a frenzy as Homme explores his lonesome-dove liberation: "Free fall from the nest, Then glide to the left/ A shine catch the eye, So flow to the right/ Flying high, realize, There are no more mountains to climb." The band even plays with slinky, sexy New Romantic vibes on "Time & Place," "What the Peephole Say," and "Straight Jacket Fitting," which sounds like said constraints should be paired with an ascot. Homme's arch delivery sounds like Bryan Ferry fronting stoner rock; then the song ends ... and another fades in, all desert-mirage blurry like some kind of campfire Clapton number. "Sicily" has a cool prey-stalking groove; "Paper Machete" slithers and grinds with its sleazy guitar solo. And "Negative Space" is a deliciously nasty piece of work, the guitar like a well-oiled monster hungrily sliding through the streets. "Don't say you love me no more," Homme half-pleads, half-commands. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Moving from punk to symphonic music, even if it takes thirty years, isn’t something just anyone can do. Especially if, along the way, you zig-zag between techno, house, rock, ambient and even punk revival (with the album Animal Rights in 1997).  In 2021, Moby is still twisting and turning to avoid any and all labels that people might try to stick on him. The man who has become the image of the stereotypical "bedroom producer" is once again taking the world by storm with this collaborative album of covers featuring the likes of Gregory Porter, Jim James of My Morning Jacket, Mark Lanegan, Víkingur Ólafsson and the Budapest Art Orchestra. What's more, this album is being released with the most prestigious of classical music labels: Deutsche Grammophon.  It all started in 2018, when Venezuelan conductor Gustavo Dudamel took Moby to see the Los Angeles Philharmonic. This concert took him back to his childhood days, when he was raised on classical music. It reminded him of the ability that orchestras have of expressing nuance, depth, and emotions in much greater detail than a pop song can. And we have to pay tribute to the talent of the Budapest Art Orchestra, which successfully reframes Moby's radio hits. Natural Blues takes on an unsuspected breadth, thanks to the ensemble's backing vocals and Gregory Porter's soulful voice. Jim James' contribution renders Porcelain more poignant than ever.On Go, the Hungarian string section does most of the work, lending the song an even more epic quality. For the soaring, serene rendition of Heroes, a tribute to his personal hero David Bowie, Moby invites his favourite singing partner, Mindy Jones, with whom he has worked on Everything Was Beautiful, and Nothing Hurt and Innocent.  The Lonely Night also deserves special mention. The deep and comforting timbre of Kris Kristofferson’s voice makes this a perfect song for evenings by the fireside. It is just one more stylistic innovation in an album that's stuffed full of them. Despite the star-studded cast and the emotional richness of the material, this track sees Moby enjoying the simple things. © Smaël Bouaici/Qobuz

Twenty years after its summer 1997 release, OK Computer re-emerges clothed in light. In this two-part reissue: a first disc with the remastered original album; a second, 11-track disc made up of B-sides and previously unreleased titles. The sort of release that has fans in a frenzy... After the admittedly perfect classicism of The Bends (1995), Radiohead took a sort of swan dive into the ocean of a distinctly more experimental type of rock. Like revisited prog rock, subtly undermined by snatches of electronic music, OK Computer is never a mere mad scientist's laboratory, experimenting just for the fun of it. Underneath the atmospheric layering, behind the patchworks of textures inherited from Pink Floyd, R.E.M. or even Teuton krautrock (Neu! and Can spring to mind), the Oxford group never lets its attention stray from the writing. Between Thom Yorke's tortured but often lyrical (Exit Music (For A Film)) and always distinctive voice (Karma Police) and Jonny Greenwood's avant-garde guitar lines (Subterranean Homesick Alien), this third album keeps listeners on their toes. OK Computer reached a pinnacle of inventiveness, with bold harmonies, groundbreaking production and inventive instrumentation. It left its mark on its time and will continue to influence masses of groups and musicians...The second disc in OK Computer OKNOTOK 1997 2017 contains eight B-sides (Lull, Meeting In The Aisle, Melatonin, A Reminder, Polyethylene (Parts 1 & 2), Pearly, Palo Alto and How I Made My Millions) and three previously unreleased tracks (I Promise, Man Of War and Lift). Recorded in March 1998 at the Abbey Road Studios in London, Man Of War was originally intended to be on the soundtrack of the big-screen adaptation of The Avengers with Uma Thurman and Ralph Fiennes, but the group was unhappy with the result and shelved the song. However glimpses of the title's recording footage can be seen in the documentary Meeting People Is Easy. Radiohead began performing on stage in 1996 with I Promise and Lift, on a US tour as the opening act for Alanis Morissette. Hard to fathom how Lift and its heady melody did not end up on the final tracklisting of OK Computer. © MD/Qobuz

It was do or die for Toto on the group's fourth album, and they rose to the challenge. Largely dispensing with the anonymous studio rock that had characterized their first three releases, the band worked harder on its melodies, made sure its simple lyrics treated romantic subjects, augmented Bobby Kimball's vocals by having other group members sing, brought in ringers like Timothy B. Schmit, and slowed down the tempo to what came to be known as "power ballad" pace. Most of all, they wrote some hit songs: "Rosanna," the old story of a lovelorn lyric matched to a bouncy beat, was the gold, Top Ten comeback single accompanying the album release; "Make Believe" made the Top 30; and then, surprisingly, "Africa" hit number one ten months after the album's release. The members of Toto may have more relatives who are NARAS voters than any other group, but that still doesn't explain the sweep they achieved at the Grammys, winning six, including Album of the Year and Record of the Year (for "Rosanna"). Predictably, rock critics howled, but the Grammys helped set up the fourth single, "I Won't Hold You Back," another soft rock smash and Top Ten hit. As a result, Toto IV was both the group's comeback and its peak; it remains a definitive album of slick L.A. pop for the early '80s and Toto's best and most consistent record. Having made it, the members happily went back to sessions, where they helped write and record Michael Jackson's Thriller.© William Ruhlmann /TiVo

Though sounding completely different from one another, Gov't Mule's Peace...Like a River is a companion album to 2021's Heavy Load Blues. The dates were actually recorded simultaneously in different spaces inside the same studio. In different rooms, the band -- guitarist / vocalist Warren Haynes, drummer Matt Abts, bassist Jorgen Carlsson, and keyboardist Danny Louis -- and co-producer John Paterno set up two entirely different recording areas with amps, guitars, keys, and microphones, with the intention of giving each album its own sonic and musical identity. While Heavy Load Blues is an epic blues-rock date, Peace...Like a River is a labyrinthine trek through original songs that nod at the band's classic rock influences, creating an album that sounds like it was written and recorded during the 1970s. Opener "Same as It Ever Was" offers poetic lyrics about life's difficulties and revelations during and in the aftermath of the pandemic. The fingerpicked lead guitar, psychedelic production, lilting melody, and thunderous rhythm section crescendo buoy Haynes' emotionally resonant vocal. "Shake Our Way Out" is an exercise thundering, riff-centric, distorted blues-rock with Billy F. Gibbons (ZZ Top) joining on second guitar and vocals. While "Made My Peace" introduces itself as a midtempo, swaggering blues boogie, it quickly shifts gears to reflect Pink Floyd's deep influence on Gov't Mule. The vocal harmonies, melody, and dynamics recall both the Dark Side of the Moon and Wish You Were Here eras. "Dreaming Out Loud" is a jazzy rock cum R&B production. Ruthie Foster and Ivan Neville join the crew for the souled-out, steamy, bluesy, jazzy, NOLA-inspired funk on the poignant "Dreaming Out Loud" complete with soaring horns. Its lyrics were compiled from writings and speeches by Dr. Martin Luther King, Robert F. Kennedy, congressman/activist John Lewis and John F. Kennedy. Billy Bob Thornton contributes vocals to the swampy, spooky dubwise reggae of "The River Only Flows One Way." "After the Storm" cooks, but it's just a little too derivative of the L.A. Woman-era Doors due to Haynes trying too hard to imitate Jim Morrison in the first verse. That said, Louis' fine organ work owes more to the exploratory grooves of Larry Young and Garth Hudson than Ray Manzarek. "Just Across the River" is a slow-rolling, R&B-inflected blues featuring excellent playing and singing from New York-based guitarist and vocalist Celisse Henderson (Brandi Carlile, Joni Mitchell). "Long Time Coming" is a righteous, horn-drenched, soul-blues rave-up with a powerful vocal from Haynes. Peace...Like a River closes with the slide guitar Southern-fried rock of "Gone Too Long," which nods simultaneously at Neil Young with Crazy Horse and Lynyrd Skynyrd. This set reaffirms Gov't Mule's place as one of the most musical, stylistically ambitious bands out there.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

On 19 June 2006, someone called Taylor Swift released her first single, Tim McGraw, a straightforward homage to the country singer of the same name. She was only 17 and stood out as a potential future queen of country pop... A good decade later, queen she is: but of pop tout court! The Disney cowgirl getup is gone, replaced by the pop R&B icon who has conquered the heights of the charts, but who, above all, has been able to impose her style and her writing as a canonical part of the modern genre. With Reputation, her royal crown never threatens to fall from her head. On the contrary. With this sixth album, Taylor Swift certainly has not equalled 1989, her most accomplished record released in 2014, though she confirms that she is to her times what Madonna was to the 80s and 90s. Really, it should be enjoyed for what it is: great pop, with catchy choruses, pumped–up production (the Swedish pairing of Max Martin/Shellback as well as the American Jack Antonoff are in charge here) and her autobiographical lyrics which juggle with looove, liiife, fruuustration, saaadness, haaappiness, etc. Here, Taylor Swift unburdens her soul, in particular about how the limelight can burn, especially on Call It What You Want where she explains that she isn't what she's said to be… this saccharine orgy concludes with an even more melancholy piano ballad, New Year’s Day. We leave Reputation realising that the star has pulled clearly away ahead of Katy Perry, Lady Gaga and Miley Cyrus. © CM/Qobuz

Hailed for songwriting skill and an unironic embrace of outlaw country, Chris Stapleton, on his fourth album, puts his vocal versatility on impressive display. Supported by a moody, shadowy string section, he unfurls a torch-singer side on "Cold," a heartbreaker that lives up to its name in feel and lyrics—"Why you got to be so cold/ Why you got to go and cut me like a knife/ Put our love on ice." The lowdown-and-dirty guitar of "Whiskey Sunrise" is matched for power by a wailing blues delivery from Stapleton. And he cuts loose with a Southern-rock howl on the Tom Petty-esque swamp stomp "Devil Always Made Me Think Twice." An early Petty influence is alive and present across Starting Over, with Heartbreakers Mike Campbell and Benmont Tench guesting on guitar and Hammond B3, respectively. Stapleton co-wrote the simmer-to-fury "Watch You Burn" with Campbell, and the guitarist's signature style is front-and-center on "Arkansas," a heavy Southern-rock blues burner celebrating the underrated beauty of the Ozarks. The ghost of Guy Clark also blesses the sessions, as Stapleton covers a back-to-back shot of the songwriter's "Worry B Gone" and "Old Friends" and former with a velocity that makes Willie Nelson's gentle version sound cute. (A flow-like-the-creek cover of John Fogerty's "Joy of My Life" is more faithful.) As on previous releases, Stapleton's wife and collaborator Morgane Stapleton lends angelic vocal harmonies, sweetening the sobering, Kristofferson-sounding ballad "When I'm With You," which find her husband taking stock of middle age and where it goes from there: "I'm 40 years old/ And it looks like the end of the rainbow ain't no pot of gold." She also shows up on that song's spiritual flip side and the album's title track, an optimistic, stripped-down guitar jangle: "I can be your lucky penny/ You can be my four-leaf clover.” Indeed, for all his tough-guy appearance, there's always been a tender side to Stapleton, and he shows every bit of it on "Maggie's Song," an absolute tearjerker about a found dog's life and death that's teed up and ready for a pickup truck commercial. (Nothing wrong with that.) And lest anyone ever doubt his outlaw tendencies, Stapleton ends on an absolutely gorgeous kiss-off to the country capital: "So long Nashville, Tennessee/ You can't have what's left of me." © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

By now, Chan Marshall (aka Cat Power) is an old hand at choosing songs to interpret. On this, her third album of catholic covers, she makes that clear right out of the gate. Her interpretation of Frank Ocean's "Bad Religion"—a spare heartbreaker and one of the most painfully intimate songs of the past decade—is a marvel in that it takes an already perfect song and makes it even more haunting by tapping into a different dimension. There's a lived-in depth, a beautiful reminder of how Marshall has grown into her voice, which used to be a tentative instrument and now is arrestingly yet comfortably assured. Adding more musical layers, including multiple vocal tracks, she underscores how the song is not just about the swelling ache of unrequited love but also the acceptance of what that means about you. Marshall makes Lana Del Rey's sleepy-eyed ballad "White Mustang" into more of a sexy slow roll that quickens its pace at the chorus—becoming a noir prowl, like from some spy thriller. "You're revvin' and revvin' and revvin' it up/ And the sound, it was frightening," Marshall sings like she means it, all the gauze of the original torn aside. Her own song "Hate," a bleak blues lament from 2006's The Greatest, evolves as "Unhate": bigger, bolder and with ghostly vocal effects. The pounding, relentless nightmare of Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds' "I Had a Dream, Joe" is transformed into a Lynchian fever dream. The effect sounds, truly, like an early Cat Power song—nervous, threatening, skittish, ready to bolt at any moment. Marshall lets slide the cynicism of the Replacements' bittersweet beauty "Here Comes a Regular," leaving the tender ache of hopelessness on full display. The Pogues' trad-folk chanty "A Pair of Brown Eyes" is stripped back to a holy-sounding hymn, organ humming and Marshall's voice a mesmerizing round-robin of harmony. "It Wasn't God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels" becomes mischievous and winking, slowed down to a lazy summer drawl with back-alley bass. Bob Seger's "Against the Wind," here almost witchy in its femininity, is completely unrecognizable. Marshall puts a swoony, smoky cabaret sheen on the jazz standard "I'll Be Seeing You." And a faithful cover of "These Days"—originally written by a 16-year-old Jackson Browne and made famous by Nico—is exactly what you want to hear from Marshall: husky and shadowy, excruciatingly beautiful, endlessly satisfying. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Tori Amos has said that her new album—her 16th—is "about your losses, and how you cope with them." For her, that includes pandemic lockdown and the Capitol riots, as viewed from her remote farm in Cornwall, England. The area inspired her with its ancient mythology, including tales of pixies and giants; the fairytale Jack the Giant Slayer, aka Jack and the Beanstalk, was born of Cornish lore. As always, Amos herself isn't afraid to take on so-called giants. "Devil's Bane" warns of men who would try to control women and has a sort of Led Zeppelin feel, with its witchy guitar and big drums, courtesy of Pearl Jam's Matt Chamberlain (who last worked with Amos on 2009's Midwinter Graces). "Ocean to Ocean" places blame for political insurrection—"There are those who never give a goddamn for anything that they're breaking/ There are those that only give a goddamn for the profit that they're making"—a faint guitar cry like an accusatory echo. Yet there's hope as she sings, "There is a way out of this" while uplifting strings echo her optimism. Ocean to Ocean contains surprises, too. Over the years, Amos's theatricality has evolved from Under the Pink's baroque stylings and Little Earthquakes' Kate Bush-inspired drama. But there are some nostalgic moments on this record. "Addition of Light Divided" is especially Bush-like, and melancholy ballad "Flowers Burn to Gold," comfortingly, feels like it could've been lifted from one of those old albums—with Amos' left-hand piano work as heavy as the physical feelings of mourning, while her right hand tries to pull up out of it. "I am fascinated when someone has gone through a tragedy, and how they work through their grief. That is where the gold is ..." Amos has said. "I'm going to meet you in the muck." For "Speaking With Trees," with its spritely piano and galloping drums, that means turning to nature for comfort. On "Swim to New York State" (a song of loss, driven by moody strings) she's still in the bargaining stage of grief: "I'd swim to New York State from the Cornish coast of England, for even just a day," she sings, searching for reconnection. "Birthday Baby" slinks along like a tango, celebrating resilience: "This year, you survived through it all/ A cosmic apocalypse, a stab to the heart." And "29 Years" is remarkably, powered by a looming undertow of bass and drums, along with a sort of reggae-rock guitar. "Spies," meanwhile, is as "poppy" a song as Amos has penned in years. Written to quell her daughter's nightmares and fear of bats, it's a "lullaby" set to a racing beat and busy, mischievous bass, with absurd imagery about "spies" who chase away night terrors: "Scary men dipped in mustard (English mixed with Dijon)/ Mrs. Crabby Apple/ Won't get custard/ Won't get crumble." It's playful—ready to be a great TV show theme—and totally suits her. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Immediately contradicting the album's title, opener "I Contain Multitudes" finds Dylan doing his best Leonard Cohen: the lion in winter, growling with deceptively gentle gravitas over cinematic guitar—paying tribute to William Blake, Anne Frank, Indiana Jones and "them British bad boys the Rolling Stones." If it were to be the 79-year-old's last stand, it's a pretty damn great one. But he immediately springs to spirited life with "False Prophet," a no-frills dirty blues march. There are so many highlights: "My Own Version of You" is a laugh-out-loud "Frankenstein" tale set to a shadowy guitar prowl; the swooning "I've Made Up My Mind to Give Myself to You" borrows from doo-wop balladry. "I hope the gods go easy with me," Dylan croons on that track, and it's hard to shake the feeling that he's taking stock. But there's still so much to say. "Key West (Philosopher's Pilot)" finds the elder statesman chasing immortality along Route 1 for nine-and-a-half fully entertaining minutes, while closer "Murder Most Foul" stretches out for nearly 17, reliving the Kennedy assassination and incanting a phone book's worth of cultural-imprint references without wasting a second. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Jose James is bringing back the great soul music of the sixties. With Lean On Me, his fifth album on the label Blue Note, the singer from Minneapolis pays tribute to Bill Withers. This album reiterates the influence that the big names of mythical jazz and soul have had on the artist, who sang the tracks of a certain Billie Holiday back in 2015… Despite the many musical paths he could’ve taken, James remains a faithful servant to the masters of soul, doing his duty of remembrance through his covers. Recorded in Capitol Records’ famous Studio B, he surrounded himself with big names: Pino Palladino on bass, Brad Allen Williams on the guitar, Kris Bowers on keyboard and Nate Smith on drums, a dream team with whom the soul man lays himself bare. With vintage groove and power, his warm voice evokes a bygone era and blends erotically with the piano chords of Lean On Me. Lovely Day’s funky soul doesn’t phase him either, but if there’s an area in which he truly excels, it’s on the sugary and slightly acoustic southern soul track: Hello Like Before. Watch out for hot flushes! Switching between tradition and modernity, each track is a surprise. Whether it’s brilliant musical improvisation you’re looking for (Just The Two of Us) or full funk (Better Off Dead) − here’s a guru who can hypnotise you in just a few seconds! © Anna Coluthe/Qobuz

The way that Chaka Khan turbocharged the career of Chicago funk band Rufus was extraordinary enough to warrant the group appending "featuring Chaka Khan" to its name throughout most of her hit-making tenure with them. So, it was inevitable that after four successful studio albums between 1974 and 1977 that "featured" Chaka Khan, Rufus would soon watch their star vocalist embark upon a solo career, even though that solo career mostly took place alongside her role in Rufus. (Khan would appear on several more—though not all—Rufus albums until the band's eventual dissolution in 1983, truly becoming a "featured" performer.) 1978's Chaka was released the same year as Street Player, her fifth studio album with the band, and the contrast between the two records could not be more sharp. While the latter focused on brassy funk and midtempo drama like "Stay," Chaka explodes out of the gate with "I'm Every Woman," a now-inescapable banger that finds both Khan and the songwriting team of Ashford & Simpson at the heights of their powers. Its lush, discofied groove makes the song an insistent dancefloor hit and also a remarkable showcase for Khan's voice.  While that voice had long been a focal point on Rufus albums, they often used group harmonies. On Chaka, her room-filling approach to singing is given plenty of space to shine, and she is unafraid to unleash its full power, which she does so tastefully and with plenty of dynamics. "I'm Every Woman" is undoubtedly the best-known classic, but the album also shines with other notable moments like the slow jam favorite "Roll Me Through the Rushes," which would become a deep-cut cornerstone of Quiet Storm radio, the gender-flipped Stevie Wonder cover "I Was Made to Love Him," and the jazzy romance of "We Got the Love," which finds Khan duetting with George Benson. Arif Mardin's production touch is a perfect match, expertly fusing a sophisticated soulfulness with dancefloor acumen and marshaling an army of session players to execute this material at its highest possible level, and this dynamic modern remaster delivers warmth and presence. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

Time has been good to Bonnie Raitt. At 72, she sounds great—and as strong as ever. The California roots-rock queen has said she wanted to try new styles on her 21st album, but there are no wild U-turns here. When she adopts a little Lyle Lovett jazziness on "Something's Got a Hold of My Heart"—accented by Glenn Patscha's seesaw piano and her own slow-hand guitar—she sounds like Nick of Time era Bonnie Raitt. Ditto the sexy, funky blues rock number "Waitin' for You to Blow," with its cocksure rhythm and a killer Hammond solo by Patscha. The whole thing sashays, and Raitt delivers the title line in a whispered growl that really belies her years. She plays around with R&B—heavy on the blues guitar—on the terrific "Made Up Mind," and tries on a little New Orleans street jazz sass for "Love So Strong." Her voice is so perfectly suited for the Dylan-esque ballad "Just Like That," about a man who died too young but donated his heart to save someone else's life. Told from the stricken perspective of his parents as they meet the man with their son's heart, she brings incredibly rich empathy to the story: "They say Jesus brings you peace and grace/ but he ain't found me yet," Raitt sings at first. Then, "I spent so long in darkness/ I thought the night would never end/ But somehow grace has found me/ and I had to let him in." There's a similar feel to "Down the Hall," a John Prine-like story song with the narrator finding redemption and hoping for good karma by caring for hospice patients—taking care of a dying stranger who has no one, washing his feet, shaving his bony head. Raitt, who has been making records for more than 50 years, is unafraid to face mortality on Just LIke That; it's a running theme, but matter-of-fact and in no way depressing. In fact, "Livin' for the Ones"—"Keep livin' for the ones who didn't make it/ Cut down through no fault of their own"—is absolutely alive with spitfire energy, a juke-joint blues rocker led by Raitt's ferocious guitar. "Just remember the ones who won't ever feel the sun on their faces again," she sings, and it feels like a jubilant rallying cry. She even makes amends on the Sunday-morning gospel blues of "Blame it On Me," drawing it out like taffy before she finally hits a high note of salvation and shifts the blame: "Ooooh, gonna blame it on you!" (After all, the clock's not stopped yet.) Raitt also sounds completely relaxed and like she's having a ball on "Here Comes Love"— a little bit of funk, a little jazz piano, a little street percussion. "Chicken 'n' dumplings that's all it's gonna take/ Just to make you stay for the ice cream cake" are the words of a woman who hasn't lost a beat. ©Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

It's natural to suspect that In Concert is simply the hastily constructed live album cash-in that comes after the long-awaited reunion (2012's Anastasis was the group's first studio album in 16 years), but it's actually a sweet souvenir of the world fusion duo's return to the stage, tastefully presented and impeccably recorded. Rarely do live albums sound so luxurious and warm, but besides being a fine demo disc for high-end speakers, this chamber concert on wax offers some more comfortable, more alive versions of Anastasis' studio material, along with a quick stroll through the group's early work. "The Ubiquitous Mr. Lovegrove" always sounded vintage but here it sounds downright wise with Brendan Perry's full-bodied voice properly aged and not weathered in the least. Speaking of voices, Lisa Gerrard is absolutely majestic on the aptly titled closer, "Return of the She-King," and anyone who puts "Sanvean" in a list of top ten heart-movers ever deserves to hear the fine version she delivers here. That fan favorite made its debut on the band's first live album, Toward the Within (1994), but this second live effort differs from that one in that very little new material is premiered. There are only two "new" tracks and they are cover songs, the first being the centuries-old Arabic song "Lamma Bada" and the second being the Tim Buckley (via This Mortal Coil) tune "Song to the Siren," both performed by Perry and the latter to perfection. The only thing left of concern is the editing out of the in-between song chatter (Perry's usual, informative intro to "Lamma Bada" is gone), but otherwise this is a well-executed capture of a great performance, pure and simple.© David Jeffries /TiVo

For only the second time in her career, jazz pianist and vocalist Diana Krall deviates from her tried, true m.o. of covering easily identifiable jazz standards. On Glad Rag Doll she teams with producer T-Bone Burnett and his stable of studio aces. Here the two-time Grammy winner covers mostly vaudeville and jazz tunes written in the 1920s and '30s, some relatively obscure. Most of the music here is from her father's collection of 78-rpm records. Krall picked 35 tunes from that music library and gave sheet music to Burnett. He didn't reveal his final selections until they got into the studio. Given their origins, these songs remove the sheen of detached cool that is one of Krall's vocal trademarks. Check the speakeasy feel on opener "We Just Couldn't Say Goodbye," with Marc Ribot's airy chords, Jay Bellerose's loose shuffle, and Dennis Crouch's strolling upright bass. Krall's vocal actually seems to express delight in this loose and informal proceeding -- though her piano playing is, as usual, tight, top-notch. The shimmering sentimental nocturnal balladry there gives way to swing in "Just Like a Butterfly That's Caught in the Rain," which stands out because of the interplay between Ribot's ukulele, a pair of basses, and Bellerose's brushes. Krall's vocal hovers; she lets the melody guide her right through the middle. On the title cut, her only accompanist is Ribot on an acoustic guitar. Being the best-known tune in the bunch, it's easy to compare this reading with many others, but Krall's breathy vocal fully inhabits the lyric and melody and makes them her own. A few tracks stand apart from the album's theme. There's the modern take on Betty James' rockabilly single "I'm a Little Mixed Up," which allows Burnett to indulge himself a little and showcases a rarity: Krall playing rock & roll piano. The atmospheric reading of Doc Pomus' "Lonely Avenue" is somewhat radical, but is among the finest moments here. Burnett gets his obligatory reverb on here, but the weave of his and Ribot's guitars (and the latter's banjo) and the mandola by Howard Coward (Elvis Costello in one of several guest appearances) is arresting. The arrangement also contains an odd yet compelling reference to Miles Davis' "Right Off (Theme from Jack Johnson)"; Krall's piano solo is rife with elliptical, meandering lines and chord voicings. But vocally she gets inside the tune's blues and pulls them out with real authority. Glad Rag Doll is not the sound of Krall reinventing herself so much as it's the comfortable scratching of an old, persistent itch. The warmth, sophistication, humor, and immediacy present on this set make it a welcome addition to her catalog.© Thom Jurek /TiVo