Geopolitics, uprisings and ominous warnings for the future are nothing new for Muse. But what a ripe time it is for a record that is the rock and roll equivalent of doom-scrolling. (If you're anxiety prone, you might want to move on.) The title track sounds so much like Marilyn Manson's "The Beautiful People" you'll do a double take—and it's not a great time to ape Manson—but also mixes in high-camp glam rock in satirizing the January 6, 2021, US Capitol riots: "Welcome to the desecration, baby/ We'll build you right up and we'll tear you down/ Welcome to the celebration, baby/ The chances are turning, this future is ours." It's grotesque and catchy as hell. Synth-heavy "Compliance" likewise seems like a parody recruitment anthem for the QAnon crowd: "Come join our clique, we'll keep you safe from harm/ Our toy soldier, you'll do the dirty work." Frontman Matt Bellamy recently predicted to NME that the "End is coming …You're talking about an economic collapse, shift and reinvention, total energy transition. That's really what we're dealing with here: a disruptive transition." So why not write the soundtrack, right? There's sincerity in the Freddie Mercury-esque (think: operatic backing vocals and Broadway-worthy power chords) "Liberation," with its focus on how Black Lives Matter inspired a movement to reinvent the present and future. On the glowing "Verona"—as in the hometown of Romeo and Juliet—Bellamy's falsetto reaches for the rafters as he sings about romance at the height of the COVID era: "We're running away/ Take off your clothes and take off your mask/ It's not over now, I won't leave you in the dark/ Because I need you so/ Can we kiss, contagion on our lips." "You Make Me Feel Like It's Halloween," meanwhile, employs fright-show organ, '80s Cheez Whiz synth and a heavy-handed vocal filter to, according to Bellamy, portray pandemic lockdown domestic violence as a real-life horror movie. Fuzz-heavy "Won't Stand Down" evolves into a nü-metal like bridge, "Euphoria" lives up to its name with Eurovision grandiloquence, and "Kill or Be Killed" finds Bellamy doing his best Thom Yorke against a backdrop of battering-ram guitars. The band shifts the bombastic dynamics on "Ghosts (How Can I Move On)," a fluttering piano ballad about being haunted by regrets after losing someone. But in the end, they're ready to remind you that "We Are Fucking Fucked"—a nervous and claustrophobic number that should be subtitled "The Californian's Lament": "We're at death's door, another world war/ Wildfires and earthquakes I foresaw/ A life in crisis, a deadly virus/ Tsunamis of hate are gonna find us." © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

There are several Michael Jackson greatest-hits compilations out there, each one its own take on what should be the definitive portrait of the gloved one's career. The Ultimate Collection, The Essential Collection (different from the one here), and Number Ones have all surfaced in 2003 and 2004, and HIStory a few years prior. Each one of these collections, while commendable in its attempt to thoroughly document Jackson's accomplishments, has fallen woefully short in one aspect or another. This has finally been rectified with this installment of Sony's outstanding Essential collection. Starting with his campaign with his brothers in the Jackson 5, this two-disc set tours through every important single and every important fan favorite short of including his duet with Paul McCartney on "Say Say Say" (the Beatle does, however, make an appearance here on "The Girl Is Mine"). From Off the Wall to Dangerous, it's all here in one concise package, making it the ideal reference point from which exploration into his deeper catalog can begin. While die-hard fans will already have every single song contained herein and may be weary to purchase another greatest-hits compilation short of a greatest-hits compilation including his backing vocals on Rockwell's "Somebody's Watching Me," this may be the only one fans and casual listeners will ever have to purchase to get their fill of the King of Pop's magic.© Rob Theakston /TiVo

What does World music sound like when filtered through Jacob Collier’s harmonic kaleidoscope? His prismatic vision – piling arrangements on top of each like a glass pyramid – has already earned him a Grammy in 2017, for You and I, from his debut album. Then, Djesse came along, like a tornado of styles, a jazz-world fusion where the London-based multi-instrumentalist extended his conceptual and technical dominion to even vaster musical landscapes. So vast, that apparently it’s only the first in a series of 4. If any proof was still needed that Collier is a musical genius in the highest sense, Djesse Vol. 2 is in the pudding. The scope is still extremely wide, thanks to Jacob’s ability to fit any sort of instrument into a song: bag pipes, slap bass and acoustic guitars are all a part of the opening track Sky Above. But that same scope is also widened through different features: Pino Palladino and Lianne La Havas on the romantic soul-trance of Feel, Steve Vai and his unmistakable shredding on top of the polyrythmic funk of Do You Feel Love, and even Chris Thile and his mandolin, threading the needle on the tender I Heard You Singing. The latter song is actually a fair representation of the artistic direction on the second volume of Djesse: there are more references to the Anglo-Saxon tradition, thanks to bagpipes, mandolin and harps galore. Collier also seems to have taken a step back from his jazz influences: his practice of negative harmony through a capella parts certainly highlighted his vocal abilities, but apart from tracks such as Moon River his signature technique is sparser. That certainly contributes to making the music more relatable and more intimate. If Djesse Vol. 2 doesn’t necessarily break any ground from a theoretical perspective, the production value is on point and it also signals Collier’s emotional growth. As a musician, he certainly has nothing to prove, but his evocative power as an artist is still showing considerable improvement compared to previous records. © Alexis Renaudat/Qobuz

"Yoga" was an ostensibly minor part of the Janelle Monáe discography by the arrival of Dirty Computer. Three years old and outshined by another Wondaland release, Jidenna's "Classic Man," it nevertheless became Monáe's first single to hit the Billboard Hot 100. That Monáe hadn't previously hit the chart as a headliner was further evidence of a flawed industry, given that they and primary collaborators Nate Wonder and Chuck Lightning had been making songs with pop appeal for nearly a decade. "Yoga" did show that Monáe was more open to messing with contemporary trends. Moreover, the song's humanized, sexually uninhibited, and anti-authoritarian qualities -- they were earthbound, celebrating their body, asserting "You cannot police me" -- also indicated the course they have taken with their third album. Oddly enough, "Make Me Feel," the one Dirty Computer track on which Monáe employs a wholly pop songwriting team including Julia Michaels, Justin Tranter, and Mattman & Robin, is the funkiest and friskiest number here, clearly influenced by the late (and uncredited) Prince. Monáe and their trusty Wondaland partners, the album's dominant creative force, colorfully twist and flip new wave-leaning pop with booming bass drums and rattling percussion. They transmit powerful and defiant jubilance in response to "wack ass fuckboys everywhere (from the traphouse to the White House) who make the lives of little brown girls so damn hard," among dozens of other inspirations Monáe acknowledges in the essential liner notes. Almost every track is densely packed with quotables delivered in approaches that shift from easygoing elegance to hard-fought, triumphant conviction. The latter approach yields the album's apex, "Django Jane," in which Monáe raps throughout with inhuman precision, threatening a pussy riot, declaring "We ain't hidden no more," and uplifting the "highly melanated" while dropping some of the set's few sci-fi allusions, "Made a fandroid outta yo' girlfriend" among them. Not to be lost in all the power moves are indirect and direct references to a romantic relationship -- another form of dissent -- referenced and explored throughout, from the glowing "Crazy, Classic, Life" through the fiery "So Afraid," the only moment of emotional fragility. While this is easily the most loaded Monáe album in terms of guests, with Brian Wilson, Stevie Wonder, and Grimes among the contributors, there's no doubt that it's a Wondaland product. It demonstrates that artful resistance and pop music are not mutually exclusive.© Andy Kellman /TiVo

Listening to his first two albums, one might imagine Robert Finlay to be a son of Solomon Burke, Al Green or Otis Redding. Or their little brother at least: maybe about fifteen years younger, but with an exceptional, old-fashioned soul voice. Like many others before him (like Charles Bradley, for example), Finlay has come to the music scene late in life, releasing his first album in 2016 at the age of 62, after a whole life spent as a part-time amateur singer. Robert Finley is the son of the sharecropper referred to in the title of this third album, which recalls his rural, modest origins as eloquently as an old cowboy hat or a shirt tucked into jeans. He's a son of the old south, the south of segregation and poverty, a place whose pain stays lodged in the throat and only escapes in song. Now 67, Finley continues to sing like a chiselled old angel, accompanied by Dan Auerbach. The guitarist and singer from the Black Keys, who produced the 2017 album, Goin' Platinum!, also helped create Sharecropper's Son and brought its musicians together. This album is a solid, rooted, hearty slice of life. Like soul food, it settles the stomach and soothes away anxieties. Robert Finley sings of only two things: his story, and his hopes. The end result works and holds together: the music is made in the style of Memphis '68, with brass, bluesy guitars, bass that's as deep as the bayou and lascivious mid-tempos. Played alongside albums like Al Green's Call Me and Solomon Burke's Proud Mary, Sharecropper's Son is totally entrancing, timeless and eternal. © Stéphane Deschamps/Qobuz

Chris Brown's 11th full-length, 11:11 followed Breezy by just over a year. It's more concise and a little more romantic, as promised with the tender ballad "Summer Too Hot" and airy Afrobeats track "Sensational," the album's preview singles. Although its title relates to numerology, the set doesn't range farther than Brown's standard lyrical concerns of lust, love, wealth and self-assertion. Brown smartly spotlights Maeta on the fine slow jam "Best Ever," and elsewhere is joined by the likes of Future, Byron Messia, and Fridayy, the latter two of whom join respectively on house- and dancehall-oriented tracks.© TiVo Staff /TiVo

Ane Brun’s unmistakable voice incarnates the sweet softness of her ballads in its tonality; mellifluous and light, with a slight tremble that ushers in a precious ephemerality. Playful as Joanna Newsom and Fiona Apple, powerful as Joni Mitchell and Dolly Parton, this Norwegian has reconstituted the art of her elders to come up with her own music, for her own universe. Her personal touch resonates even throughout her covers. To celebrate the 20th anniversary of her career, Ane Brun has returned to her signature move by releasing four perfect compilations, exclusively covers, of which Portrayals is the first volume. “Covers have been such a big part of my career. It’s almost a career in itself. They have their own dynamic. I wanted to celebrate that by giving these songs their own space. It’s always a real creative process to record your own version of someone else’s song. I’m not interested in doing a cover version that sounds like the original…” Like Nina Simone, or, closer to home, Cat Power, the Scandinavian makes every song her own. Something that is all the more impressive given that the "revisited" artists come from any background in whichever decade. Portrayals features tracks from Sade (By Your Side), Nick Cave (Into My Arms), Bob Dylan (Make You Feel My Love), Radiohead (How to Disappear Completely), Emmylou Harris (All My Tears), Foreigner (I Want to Know What Love Is), Alphaville (Big in Japan), Beyoncé (Halo), Rodgers & Hart (Blue Moon), the Beatles (From Me to You) and many others. Magical. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

One would think that being Ryan Adams would be a pretty good deal at the time of this album's release; he had a major-label deal, critics were in love with him, he got to date Winona Ryder and Alanis Morissette, Elton John went around telling everyone he was a genius, and his record company gave him carte blanche to do whatever he wanted. But to listen to Gold, Adams' first solo album for his big-league sponsors at Lost Highway, one senses that there are about a dozen other musicians Adams would love to be, and nearly all of them were at their peak in the early to mid-'70s. Adams' final album with Whiskeytown, Pneumonia, made it clear that he was moving beyond the scruffy alt-country of his early work, and Gold documents his current fascination with '70s rock. Half the fun of the album is playing "Spot the Influence": "Answering Bell" is a dead ringer for Van Morrison (with fellow Morrison enthusiast Adam Duritz on backing vocals), "Tina Toledo's Street Walkin' Blues" is obviously modeled on the Rolling Stones, "Harder Now That It's Over" sounds like Harvest-period Neil Young, "New York, New York" resembles Stephen Stills in his livelier moments (Stephen's son, Chris Stills, plays on the album), and "Rescue Blues" and "La Cienega Just Smiled" suggest the influence of Adams' pal Elton John. Of course, everyone has their influences, and Adams seems determined to make the most of them on Gold; it's a far more ambitious album than his solo debut, Heartbreaker. The performances are polished, Ethan Johns' production is at once elegant and admirably restrained, Adams is in strong voice throughout, and several of the songs are superb, especially the swaggering but lovelorn "New York, New York," the spare and lovely "When the Stars Go Blue," and the moody closer, "Goodnight, Hollywood Blvd." But while Gold sounds like a major step forward for Adams in terms of technique, it lacks the heart and soul of Heartbreaker or Pneumonia; the album seems to reflect craft rather than passion, and while it's often splendid craft, the fire that made Whiskeytown's best work so special isn't evident much of the time. Gold sounds like an album that could win Ryan Adams a lot of new fans (especially with listeners whose record collections go back a ways), but longtime fans may be a bit put off by the album's richly crafted surfaces and emotionally hollow core.© Mark Deming /TiVo

Cyrus Chestnut's 2016 effort, the superb Natural Essence, benefitted greatly from his pairing with the duo of bassist Buster Williams and drummer Lenny White. Thankfully, the pianist has followed up with another engaging set featuring the same veteran luminaries. An adept virtuoso talent, Chestnut soars alongside Williams and White on 2017's There's a Sweet Sweet Spirit. Elder jazz statesmen, Williams and White have decades of experience under their hats with credits for such legends as Herbie Hancock, Freddie Hubbard, Art Blakey, Woody Shaw, and many others. Similarly, Chestnut has worked with such luminaries as Terence Blanchard, Betty Carter, Wynton Marsalis, and more. While all of his albums are worth checking out, there is something inspired and kinetic about his playing with Williams and White, as if they are all three pushing each other to discover new avenues of expression. Joining them this time on several tracks is yet another volcanic talent in vibraphonist Steve Nelson. Though he only appears on three cuts, his warm harmonic resonance contrasts beautifully with Chestnut's as they dig into an expansive late-'60s jazz sound on two of vibraphonist Bobby Hutcherson's best-known compositions, "Little B's Poem" and "The Littlest One of All." Away from Nelson, Chestnut displays his genre-bending skills on "Chopin Prelude," transfiguring the classical piece first with a cubist Thelonious Monk-style intro and later with a swinging Ellingtonian mid-section. Similarly compelling are the group's muscular and exotic take on Miles Davis' "Nardis" and a spritely reading of Williams' "Christina." Elsewhere, they deliver a languid and romantic take on the Stylistics' 1973 classic "You Make Me Feel Brand New," and dive headlong into the pianist's own Latin-infused "CDC." Ultimately, if there's one overriding sentiment that drives all of There's a Sweet Sweet Spirit, it's Chestnut and his band's spirit of soulful camaraderie.© Matt Collar /TiVo

In many ways, Sinatra at the Sands is the definitive portrait of Frank Sinatra in the '60s. Recorded in April of 1966, At the Sands is the first commercially released live Frank Sinatra album, recorded at a relaxed Las Vegas club show. For these dates at the Sands, Sinatra worked with Count Basie and his orchestra, which was conducted by Quincy Jones. Throughout the show, Sinatra is in fine voice, turning in a particularly affecting version of "Angel Eyes." He is also in fine humor, constantly joking with the audience and the band, as well as delivering an entertaining, if rambling, monologue halfway through the album. Basie and the orchestra are swinging and dynamic, inspiring a textured, dramatic, and thoroughly enjoyable performance from Sinatra. © Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

After disintegrating the Amboy Dukes in the early '70s, Ted Nugent finally decided to strike out on his own as a solo star. Even without a recording contract, Nugent toured constantly, built up a fervent following, and created a smoking hard rock quartet with the help of singer/guitarist Derek St. Holmes, bassist Rob Grange, and drummer Cliff Davies. The band's first release, 1975's Ted Nugent, is a prime slice of testosterone-heavy, raging, unapologetic rock & roll, and along with the band's 1977 release Cat Scratch Fever, it is Nugent's best solo studio album. While the grinding opening track, "Stranglehold," stretches beyond eight minutes and contains several extended, fiery-hot guitar leads, it does not come off as your typical '70s overindulgent fare -- every single note counts, as Nugent wails away as if his life depended on it. Other Nuge classics include "Motor City Madhouse," plus the St. Holmes-sung "Hey Baby" and "Just What the Doctor Ordered," all eventually becoming arena staples and making the band one of the late-'70s top concert draws. Additional highlights are the unexpected breezy jazz ballad "You Make Me Feel Right at Home," plus the untamed rockers "Stormtroopin'" and "Queen of the Forest." Nugent himself hails Ted Nugent as his best work, and with good reason. It's an essential hard rock classic. As with Nugent's other 1999 reissues, an insightful essay on this Nugent era by journalist Gary Graff is included, plus bonus tracks.© Greg Prato /TiVo

In the year of his 90th birthday (which he would have celebrated on the 23rd of September 2020 had he not died in 2004), Ray Charles is honoured with a new 90-track compilation box set. Just another compilation like all the rest? Yes and no. Ray Charles is undoubtedly one of the most-compiled artists in the history of music. Published by Tangerine, the label that the musician set up at the end of the 50s to keep the rights to his songs, this box set starts out like all the others: with the post-Atlantic hits, Georgia On My Mind, Hit The Road Jack, One Mint Julep, Busted... These are timeless treasures of proto-soul, but there doesn't seem to be much novelty here. The rest is much more interesting, and much rarer: tracks recorded between the second half of the 1960s and the 2000s, many of which were only released on vinyl, never reissued on CD and until now unavailable on digital. This is the first time that Ray Charles' lesser-known years have been given the compilation treatment in this way, and it is a revelation. In the 90s and 2000s, the production of his songs had a synthetic feel, and they did not age too well. These rarer songs are often hidden gems of southern soul, flavoured with country and wrapped in sumptuous symphonic orchestrations. Whether he is singing the Muppets (It's Ain't Easy Being Green) or Gershwin (Summertime, a duet with Cleo Laine), Ray Charles is always deeply moving. Now, the dream is to hear reissues of all these albums in their entirety. © Stéphane Deschamps/Qobuz