In four albums, Worrisome Heart (2008), My One And Only Thrill (2009), The Absence (2012) and Currency Of Man (2015), Melody Gardot has managed to sneak in between Diana Krall and Norah Jones to also find her place in the selective club of the female singers that are “a bit jazzy but not too much”, this oneiric cast that was so popular during the 50s, and in which she soon made the singularity of her very sensual voice resonate. A voice that she ceaselessly took touring to locations all over the world, and multiple times over at that. And so, there are enough recordings in the cellar to release a live album. However, live discs are rarely a must. There is often something missing, this small impalpable thing, that only those present that night will have kept inside of them… This Live In Europe from Melody Gardot is lucky to have kept, precisely, this “small thing”… The American has probably meticulously built it (apparently, she has listened to more than 300 recordings before making her decision!) by avoiding the true-false best of. “Someday, someone told me, ‘never look back, because there’s no way you’re going back’, she says. It’s nicely said, but if you don’t look back sometimes, it’s hard to see that time is on the verge of catching up to you. We all need to quickly look back into the rear-view mirror from time to time in order to adjust our trajectory. This disc is precisely that, the rear-view mirror of a 1963 Corvette, a postcard of our touring all over Europe. We spent most of our time on the road these last few years, and we’ve taken advantage of this trip to not only get around and get some fresh air but also to try, as much as possible, to get rid of the rules and create something exciting. I’ve been dreaming for years of releasing a live album like this one.” This desire can be felt in every moment of this disc comprised of titles recorded in Paris, Vienna, Bergen, Amsterdam, Frankfurt, Barcelona, Lisbon, Zurich and London. Whether she performs her hits Baby I'm A Fool and My One And Only Thrill or covers the classic Over The Rainbow, Melody Gardot offers up a different point of view, but it’s always an open performance. To help her in her introspective trip that is constantly shifting, she is surrounded by her impeccable musicians, discreet but decisive. Drummer Charles Staab, saxophonist Irwin Hall and bass player Sami Minaie are completely in tune with her singing, like some kind of thin hand that you take and only let go of after the last note. Finally, there is this album cover which will lead to extensive press coverage… or not. © MD/Qobuz

Drummer Gary Powell and bassist John Hassall provide the Libertines necessary structure and foundation, but it is the wonderfully rococo decorations of terror twins Carl Barât and Pete Doherty that give the band its bloody emotion: the charming devil rascality that lives up to the name. Their first album in nine years finds the foursome cleaner (presumably, in multiple meanings of the word) and tighter than the deliciously dangerous-sounding records that helped define post-Britpop in the aughts, yet it still feels like a natural progression. Single "Run Run Run" is pretty classic Libertines: romantic garage rock, pulled off with an imperious dishevelment that could ignite a dancefloor. Barât delivers the nihilism with a chip on his shoulder, crooning, "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to/ Light the fuse, sing the blues, I can die if I want to/ Tonight we're gonna bring tomorrow's happiness." Sunny "Mustangs" finds the band borrowing from Lou Reed and glam; cowbell, Doherty's falsetto back-up and what sounds like a full choir on the bridge add up to excellent chaos: "Sister Mary shivers—whooo!" Both tracks easily belong on a future Best Of. Doherty steps up with a slightly breathless delivery for the garage-meets-sea-chanty "I Have a Friend"—making room for Barât to unleash a fiery bit of guitar work—and "Merry Old England." The latter is a surprising adventure, packing in Latin percussion and '70s neo-soul, as well as melodramatic strings and fog-moody piano; it's the kind of epic they could not have pulled off in the bad old days. Strings and piano grandiosity also elevate the haunted ballad "Man with the Melody," while "Oh Shit" is bright and bouncy blue-collar pop-punk that sounds like a party in the studio. The same goes for "Be Young"—which marries a pub-singalong chorus, a searing guitar solo and even a Two-Tone breakdown; is it any wonder the whole thing ends in a coughing fit? Murder ballad "Night of the Hunter" injects a romantic Balkan feel into a Gallagher Bros. style melody, switching between a Greek Chorus narrator ("A-C-A-B/ Tattooed on your knuckles/ Does the world know what it means?") and the weary antagonist ("I was calling to tell you, baby/ They're taking me away for a while/ Ah, you can't blame me, it's this world that's made me"). Unvarnished "Baron's Claw" hints at Weimar cabaret mystery with drunken horn and tinkling piano. In the messy past, there was always a danger that things could just fall apart for the Libertines; now, there's a joy in hearing them keep it together. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

In December 2018, Nils Frahm returned for four nights at Funkhaus Berlin, the former headquarters of the East German national radio which is now a complex of studios and concert halls. It was here that he had composed his last album, the acclaimed All Melody, and here also that he had started a tour of 180 dates to support it. "It was about time to document my concerts in picture and sound," Frahm explains, "trying to freeze a moment of this period where my team and I were nomads, using any method of travel to play yet another show the next day. Maybe tonight is the night where everything works out perfectly and things fall into place? Normally things go wrong with concerts, but by combining our favourite moments of four performances, we were able to achieve what I was trying to do in these two years of touring: getting it right!" On the track-list of this record which comes accompanied by a film, we see an inspired Nils Frahm in beret and black T-shirt. He replays a good half of the album All Melody, and notably the trippy Sunson, whose techno break will draw whistles from Berlin club audiences. We can also enjoy the addition of The Dane (which is on All Encores) and a final, melancholic Ode – Our Own Roof, taken from the soundtrack to the film Victoria. © Smaël Bouaici/Qobuz

A bassist vital to the US jazz scene since the 90’s – partner of choice for musicians as notable as Joe Henderson, Joshua Redman, Roy Hargrove, and Pat Metheny – Christian McBride, alongside his frequent work as a sideman (on over 300 records to date), leads a rich career as a frontman, expanding upon his orchestral formations (from trios to big band) in varying registers. He encompasses a large palette of styles that are always deeply anchored in the foundations of traditional African-American jazz. This new record conceived and recorded in partnership with another bass virtuoso, Edgar Meyer, himself exploring other idioms and imagining other landscapes (from bluegrass to “crossover” classical), indisputably introduces a new perspective to the bassist’s rich discography.Intended to feel like a conversation between friends, each speaking in a relaxed, playful tone, offering support through active listening in order for each to be able to “play their own melody” with full peace and security of mind, But Who’s Gonna Play the Melody? sounds like a charming and timeless departure into a world entirely dedicated to the bass. Applying their great virtuosity towards each melody, without ever veering into competitive territory, the two musicians, with an irresistibly natural sense of groove, never cease to seduce the listener through a repertoire that draws not only from jazz, but also from folk, classical music, bluegrass, and funk, making room for the kind of collective memory that goes beyond styles and generations. An album with no pretense other than the pure pleasure of playing music – authentically all-encompassing in the best possible way. © Stéphane Ollivier/Qobuz

In 2015, Melody Gardot stepped out of her comfort zone with Currency of Man, an album which suited her entirely but displayed a more soul’n’blues side. That is not to say that her brilliant past efforts were not in keeping with her musical personality, but it was with this record that she confirmed her love for Philadelphia, the town in which she grew up and where groove holds a different meaning.  Five years later, Sunset in the Blue holds all the hallmarks of a return to the singer’s old days which made Melody Gardot’s name. The album is a stripped-back approach to jazz and bossa-nova as imposed by the unexpected circumstances of the year 2020. When the album was beginning development, the pandemic brought a halt to everything an forced the American to rethink the project. She hence proposed that her associates, spread out all over the world, work from a distance. Melody Gardot was based in Paris, her arranger and conductor Vince Mendoza in Los Angeles and the majority of her musicians in England! Despite these constraints, the miracle record was on course for creation which would span a period of roughly five months. And so, Mendoza found himself conducting on-screen from California with musicians playing in London’s Abbey Road Studios (things weren’t made any easier considering the various time-differences). In addition to Mendoza, Melody Grant recruited a set of silky smooth sound connoisseurs who were also instrumental in the success of 2009’s My One and Only Thrill: the producer Larry Klein and sound engineer Al Schmitt.Upon listening to the end result, however, we soon forget the last-minute DIY means with which this album was made. Because throughout Sunset in the Blue, Melody Gardot maintains a fascinatingly solid and intimate direction. Here we see a return to Gardot whispering hypnotically into the ear as she sings amid intermittent piano phrases and guitars. Her voice gracefully lounges upon a bed of refined and perfectly balanced violin strings. This formula reaches an irresistible climax with the album’s title track as she turns to her much-loved Brazil with tracks like Ninguém, Ninguém and Um Beljo, before she returns to the exquisite-sounding Moon River and I Fall in Love too Easily. A beautiful album which finishes with a somewhat intrusive track, Little Something, a pop duet with Sting that doesn’t really fit in with Sunset in the Blue’s general mood. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

While a whole generation of musicians seems to have adapted to nomadic composition, often between two dates in a plane or in a tour bus, there still are some that like the quality of studio production. Whatever the most-seasoned chamber producers may say, the surroundings are a major factor in the success of a recording (ask Ben Frost or Midori Takada). When other people release maxi CDs every two months, Nils Frahm, German virtuoso of the electric (or sometimes not) piano, took two years to imagine and build his “dream studio”. He put it in a place steeped in history, the Funkhaus Berlin, former headquarters of the East German public broadcasting that was transformed into a studio and concert hall facility. Nils Frahm has thus taken residence in Saal 3 to patiently build a pipe organ that you’ll hear emerging from the first tracks of the disc, like this profession of faith The Whole Universe Wants to Be Touched. With this seventh album which, track after track, makes us dive once again with delight into his oneiric—and almost subaquatic—world, the German pursues his quest for perfection, which he knows to be unreachable. “The music I hear inside me will never end up on a record, as it seems I can only play it for myself. This record includes what I think sticks out and describes my recent musical discoveries in the best possible way I could imagine.” We certainly want him to keep trying…© Smaël Bouaici/Qobuz

Melody Gardot made her public debut aged 24 with My One and Only Thrill in 2009, released on Verve Records. Many thought she’d pursue the glamourous, sophisticated and mysterious image conveyed by this record and forge a music career as a “jazz singer”.  However, just a quick glance at her eclectic discography proves that this singer-songwriter has done anything but, using each new release as an opportunity to reinvent herself and reveal a new part of her personality. After returning to her soul-rock roots on Currency of Man, (which celebrates the music of her native Philadelphia), and the barque hybridisation of The Absence (which borrows its rhythms and orchestral sounds from the various countries she’s spent time in over the last few years, such as Argentina and Portugal), Melody Gardot’s Entre eux deux is an intimate and romantic record that reflects on her relationship with France—more specifically with Paris—which she’s called home since 2016 (at least for most of the year). Conceived, composed and recorded in close collaboration with French pianist and composer Philippe Powell (son of the great Brazilian musician Baden Powell), Entre eux deux makes the most of the emotional proximity afforded by the duet format. It utilises a whole range of nuanced emotions and forms by using a repertoire that mixes legendary French songs (such as Francis Lai and Pierre Barouh’s masterpiece, Plus fort que nous), Brazilian classics (Samba Em Preludio by Baden Powell and Vinicius de Moraes) and original compositions that are effortlessly sung both in English and in French. The whole album is enhanced by the scenographic sound field created by the intentionally impressionistic piano harmonies, which forge an incredibly natural link between Bill Evans, Claude Debussy and the world of bossa nova. Melody Gardot’s deep and sensual voice resonates with great sophistication and sensitivity, exploring the mysteries of love songs through consistently beautiful melodies imbued with ineffable nostalgia. She plays into a few stereotypes (crazy love, Paris romance) in order to create an ironic sense of distance (listen to the lyrics of A la Tour Eiffel and Fleurs du dimanche, which are subtly disenchanted). Melody Gardot has never seemed more in control of her art than she does in this intimate record. © Stéphane Ollivier/Qobuz

The recording of Black and Blue took place at the same time as the auditions for guitarist Mick Taylor’s replacement. It's for that reason that the sessions were stalled and dragged on long enough to see the departure of an exasperated Glyn Johns – one of the Stones’ most loyal sound engineers who was involved in the production of their most successful albums – and finally the official addition of Ron Wood. A former guitarist for Rod Stewart, Wood wasn't as virtuosic as Mick Taylor but he was still an experienced musician and most importantly, he got along marvellously with the original members of the band. While we often remember the kitsch and simple ballads, Fool to Cry, and Memory Hotel from Black And Blue, it's also worth mentioning the tracks that are closer to what the Rolling Stones originally envisaged when they made the album: an eclectic album with Funk influences (Hot Stuff), Reggae (Cherry Oh Baby), and sometimes even sophisticated Blues/Jazz (on the amazing Melody). That being said, it wouldn’t be a true Stones album if here and there they didn’t show off their talent for creating a unique musical identity with electric guitars (Hand Of Fate, Crazy Mama). © Iskender Fay/Qobuz

Nearly 30 years into a career that's moved on and off the fringes of the indie underground, Blonde Redhead continues to delight with their thoughtful approach to highly textured melodic pop. While Sit Down For Dinner is technically the band's follow-up album to 2014's sleepy-sounding Barragán, the intervening near-decade saw two notable things happen for the band. The first was the Masculin Féminin box set, which collated their earliest releases, and then there was 2019's release of Adult Baby, a solo album by guitarist/vocalist Kazu Makino. These releases helped foster the idea that Blonde Redhead was done as a band. Instead, they seemed to revitalize them. Sit Down For Dinner certainly doesn't find the band returning to their noisy roots or even the high-impact shoegaze of their mid-career era, but it seems as though there was a conscious effort to move away from the spare, icy whispers of Barragán. That said, for the most part, Dinner still works around a similar set of loping, midtempo grooves; it's much less minimalist in its approach, evoking the warm, diaphanous sounds associated with the band at its peak. While one would struggle to ever call a Blonde Redhead song "space rock"—the vocals of Makino and Amedeo Pace are far too distinct for interstellar hypnosis—there is a spaciousness to cuts like "Kiss Her Kiss Her," "If," and "I Thought You Should Know" that gives the album a sense of textural richness that's certainly welcome. The thematic centerpiece here—a title track split into two distinct parts—is a great example of the creative energy still at play with Blonde Redhead; the first part is all dreamy ambience with Makino's near-spoken-word lyrical delivery demanding the listener's attention, while the second part unfolds into a rhythm-driven pop number that bears little resemblance to its predecessor beyond the echoes of a keyboard figure that persist throughout both. And although there's a good deal of middle-age melancholy coursing through the material here, it's nonetheless exciting to see the band still finding ways to experiment with and evolve their sound. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

On 2012's The Absence, Melody Gardot made her first shift away from the jazz-tinged ballads that drew such heavy comparisons to Norah Jones and Madeleine Peyroux. Lushly orchestrated, it was chock-full of songs inspired by Brazilian, Latin, and French forms. On Currency of Man, Gardot takes on a rootsier sound, embracing West Coast soul, funk, gospel, and pop from the early '70s as the backdrop for these songs. It is not only different musically, but lyrically. This is a less "personal" record; its songs were deeply influenced by the people she encountered in L.A., many of them street denizens. She tells their stories and reflects on themes of social justice. It's wide angle. Produced by Larry Klein, the cast includes members of her band, crack session players -- guitarist Dean Parks, drummer Vinnie Colaiuta, Larry Goldings, the Waters Sisters, et al. -- and strings and horns. The title track is a funky blues with a rumbling bassline, dramatic strings (à la Motown) and fat horns. Gardot uses the lens of Sam Cooke to testify to the inevitability of change: "We all hopin’ for the day that the powers see abdication and run/Said it gonna come…." First single "Preacherman" is similar, employing a wrangling, smoldering blues that indicts racism in the 20st century by referring to the violent death of Emmett Till, a catalyst in the then-emergent Civil Rights movement. A driving B-3, saxophone, and menacing lead guitar ratchet up the tension to explosive. A gospel chorus mournfully affirms Gardot's vocal as a harmonica moans in the background. "Morning Sun" and closer "Once I Was Loved" are tender ballads that emerge from simple, hymn-like themes and quietly resonant with conviction. "Same to You" evokes the spirit of Dusty Springfield atop the punchy horns from her Memphis period, albeit with a West Coast sheen. The nylon-string guitar in "Don't Misunderstand" recalls Bill Withers' earthy funkiness. The song's a groover, but it's also a warning to a possessive lover. "Don't Talk" uses spooky polyrhythms (à la Tom Waits) as brooding, spacy slide guitars, B-3, and backing singers slice through forbidding blues under Gardot's voice. "If Ever I Recall Your Face" is jazzier, a 21st century take on the film noir ballad with glorious strings arranged by Clément Ducol that rise above a ghostly piano. "Bad News" simultaneously looks back at L.A.'s Central Avenue and burlesque scenes. It's a jazz-blues with a sauntering horn section, snaky electric guitar, and squawking saxophone solo. Vocally, Gardot is stronger than ever here, her instrument is bigger and fuller yet it retains that spectral smokiness that is her trademark. Currency of Man is a further step away from the lithe, winsome pop-jazz that garnered her notice initially, and it's a welcome one.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

Given all the overt literary references of Selling England by the Pound, along with their taste for epic suites such as "Supper's Ready," it was only a matter of time before Genesis attempted a full-fledged concept album, and 1974's The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway was a massive rock opera: the winding, wielding story of a Puerto Rican hustler name Rael making his way in New York City. Peter Gabriel made some tentative moves toward developing this story into a movie with William Friedkin but it never took off, perhaps it's just as well; even with the lengthy libretto included with the album, the story never makes sense. But just because the story is rather impenetrable doesn't mean that the album is as well, because it is a forceful, imaginative piece of work that showcases the original Genesis lineup at a peak. Even if the story is rather hard to piece together, the album is set up in a remarkable fashion, with the first LP being devoted to pop-oriented rock songs and the second being largely devoted to instrumentals. This means that The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway contains both Genesis' most immediate music to date and its most elliptical. Depending on a listener's taste, they may gravitate toward the first LP with its tight collection of ten rock songs, or the nightmarish landscapes of the second, where Rael descends into darkness and ultimately redemption (or so it would seem), but there's little question that the first album is far more direct than the second and it contains a number of masterpieces, from the opening fanfare of the title song to the surging "In the Cage," from the frightening "Back in NYC" to the soothing conclusion "The Carpet Crawlers." In retrospect, this first LP plays a bit more like the first Gabriel solo album than the final Genesis album, but there's also little question that the band helps form and shape this music (with Brian Eno adding extra coloring on occasion), while Genesis shines as a group shines on the impressionistic second half. In every way, it's a considerable, lasting achievement and it's little wonder that Peter Gabriel had to leave the band after this record: they had gone as far as they could go together, and could never top this extraordinary album.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

In 2015, Melody Gardot stepped out of her comfort zone with Currency of Man, an album which suited her entirely but displayed a more soul’n’blues side. That is not to say that her brilliant past efforts were not in keeping with her musical personality, but it was with this record that she confirmed her love for Philadelphia, the town in which she grew up and where groove holds a different meaning.  Five years later, Sunset in the Blue holds all the hallmarks of a return to the singer’s old days which made Melody Gardot’s name. The album is a stripped-back approach to jazz and bossa-nova as imposed by the unexpected circumstances of the year 2020. When the album was beginning development, the pandemic brought a halt to everything an forced the American to rethink the project. She hence proposed that her associates, spread out all over the world, work from a distance. Melody Gardot was based in Paris, her arranger and conductor Vince Mendoza in Los Angeles and the majority of her musicians in England! Despite these constraints, the miracle record was on course for creation which would span a period of roughly five months. And so, Mendoza found himself conducting on-screen from California with musicians playing in London’s Abbey Road Studios (things weren’t made any easier considering the various time-differences). In addition to Mendoza, Melody Grant recruited a set of silky smooth sound connoisseurs who were also instrumental in the success of 2009’s My One and Only Thrill: the producer Larry Klein and sound engineer Al Schmitt.Upon listening to the end result, however, we soon forget the last-minute DIY means with which this album was made. Because throughout Sunset in the Blue, Melody Gardot maintains a fascinatingly solid and intimate direction. Here we see a return to Gardot whispering hypnotically into the ear as she sings amid intermittent piano phrases and guitars. Her voice gracefully lounges upon a bed of refined and perfectly balanced violin strings. This formula reaches an irresistible climax with the album’s title track as she turns to her much-loved Brazil with tracks like Ninguém, Ninguém and Um Beljo, before she returns to the exquisite-sounding Moon River and I Fall in Love too Easily. A beautiful album which finishes with a somewhat intrusive track, Little Something, a pop duet with Sting that doesn’t really fit in with Sunset in the Blue’s general mood. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

Alphaville's 1984 debut, Forever Young, deserves to be viewed as a classic synth pop album. There's no doubting that Germans are behind the crystalline Teutonic textures and massive beats that permeate the album, but vocalist Marian Gold's impressive ability to handle a Bryan Ferry croon and many impassioned high passages meant the album would have worldwide appeal. Indeed both "Big in Japan" and the touching, sad change-of-pace "Forever Young" raced up the charts in multiple continents. Borrowing inspiration from Roxy Music's detached theatricality and Kraftwerk's beats and rhythms, Gold and company hit upon a magic formula that produced here an album's worth of impossibly catchy tunes that could almost serve as pure definitions for the synth pop genre. The hits race straight for one's cranium and embed themselves upon impact. "Big in Japan" feels like a more serious cousin to Murray Head's "One Night in Bangkok," as a slow-pounding beat spars with Gold's desperate voice. "Forever Young," a stark, epic song that would become essential for every post-1984 high school graduation, drips sadness and never fails to cause a listener to nostalgically reflect on life and loss. Outside of these hits, the remainder of the songs rarely falter, mixing emotion, theater, and of course electronics into a potent, addictive wave of synth euphoria. It's likely every fan could pick his own favorite of the other should-have-been-hits, but "Fallen Angel" deserves special mention. It begins with spooky, funny warbling and icy keyboards, and then explodes and transforms into a startling, romantic epiphany at the chorus. If its lyrics are a bit goofy or juvenile, it only adds to the heartfelt love the song expresses. Alphaville stick firmly to their synths and sequencers on Forever Young, but they keep things interesting by incorporating motifs from funk, Broadway, Brazilian jazz, and even hip-hop. Even when the band takes itself too seriously, the songs' catchy drive and consistently smart production cover any thematic holes. Forever Young is a technically perfect and emotionally compelling slice of 1980s electronic pop/rock music. It's also a wonderfully fun ride from start to finish.© Tim DiGravina /TiVo

You don't need to speak a word of French to understand Histoire de Melody Nelson -- one needs only to look at the front cover (with its nearly pornographic portrait of a half-naked nymphet clutching a rag doll) or hear the lechery virtually dripping from Serge Gainsbourg's sleazily seductive voice to realize that this is the record your mother always warned you about, a masterpiece of perversion and corruption. A concept record exploring the story of -- and Gainsbourg's lust for -- the titular teen heroine, Histoire de Melody Nelson is arguably his most coherent and perfectly realized studio album, with the lush arrangements which characterize the majority of his work often mixed here with funky rhythm lines which underscore the musky allure of the music. Perhaps best described as a dirty old bastard's attempt to make his own R&B love-man's record along the lines of a Let's Get It On (itself still two years away from release), it's by turns fascinating and repellent, hilarious and grim, but never dull -- which, in Gainsbourg's world, would be the ultimate (and quite possibly the only) sin.© Jason Ankeny /TiVo

Woods have been in a state of slow but steady evolution since forming in 2004, growing from their roots as a noisy and experimental lo-fi folk project into increasingly refined and ambitious, genre-bending sounds as the years went on. Perennial finds the group expanding once more, turning in some of their most ornate production while maintaining their signature earthen songwriting style. With core Woods contributors Jeremy Earl, Jarvis Taveniere, and John Andrews no longer near each other, the writing process for Perennial began with Earl creating loops of keyboard, guitar, and drum figures on his own. These loops became the foundations of the album, with Taveniere and Andrews fleshing them out and taking them in new directions. The loopy starting points lend a dreamy consistency to Perennial. The album kicks off with beachy instrumental "The Seed," a roving number that drifts back and forth between two chords but decorates this simple skeleton with warbly surf guitar leads, flickering organ, and little hints of ethereal piano and horns. About halfway through the arrangement opens up, branching off in a left turn with some of the Afrobeat percussion and dub echoes that underscored the band's 2016 album City Sun Eater in the River of Light. This lush orchestration continues throughout the rest of the album, with Beatles-y Mellotron pulses and a big, friendly drum sound pushing along the lazy melodies of "Between the Past" and the playful synths dancing with autoharp strums on the otherwise mostly acoustic "Little Black Flowers." The band's Crazy Horse-modeled psychedelia flares up on tracks like the burning "Another Side," though even here, the arrangement is dense with a lot more sonic detailing than anything they've attempted before. "The Wind Again" (one of Perennial's four fully instrumental tracks) is another coastal dreamscape, with lovely pedal steel from Connor Gallaher melting into vibraphone plinks and otherworldly siren wails that are one-part Stereolab, one-part Martin Denny-style exotica. Each track takes a slightly different direction, from the driving and ominous indie blast of "Weep" to the waltzy off-time loop of the title track that finds the album stumbling joyously to its close. Perennial is yet another step forward for Woods, a band that continues to get stronger as their music becomes gentler and more graceful.© Fred Thomas /TiVo