After two delectable EPs, Benjamin Clementine has finally brought out his first album, At Least for Now. An impressive record. It is the strong, demanding work of a true voice, literally and figuratively. He is as charismatic a figure as those on whose shoulders he stands. It is hard not to think of Nina Simone, for example, when one hears the grain in Clementine's voice and his connection with the piano. But she is also there in his relationships to the musical styles which he mixes and matches with charm and ease. Jazz, soul, folk, blues and pop: At Least for Now makes no distinctions, eschewing labels because it is confident of its own vision... Even the instrumentation here alternates between the nakedness of a solo piano and the power of a violin section. A great aficionado of Maria Callas, but also of Léo Ferré and Jacques Brel, Clementine is also a fine raconteur. And so we will let ourselves be carried away by his storytelling. A star is well and truly born. © MD/Qobuz

Nemesis, the 14th studio album from venerable Finnish power metal outfit Stratovarius, covers a lot of familiar ground. Flush with bold, sweeping choruses backed by keyboard choirs, strings, and arpeggiated synths (the latter ride higher in the mix than usual), flashy yet nimble guitar leads, fierce, melodic breakdowns, and spirited lyrics that rally the listener to overcome non-specific adversities, the first outing to feature new drummer Rolf Pilve (Jörg Michael left the group amicably for personal reasons soon after the release of 2011's Elysium), doesn't disappoint. Nemesis, as is the case with all Stratovarius albums, was crafted in a world where subtlety has not yet come into existence, allowing for cover art that depicts a nude, buxom angel with a broadsword descending from a fiery sky filled with mushroom clouds (and a single, sad spaceship that must have wandered in from some abandoned Somewhere in Time-era Iron Maiden jacket) upon a metropolis in ruins. Luckily (for those with a taste for symphonic power metal excess in the vein of Rhapsody of Fire, Blind Guardian, and Helloween), Nemesis delivers musically what it does visually, offering up 11 well-honed slabs of propulsive, stadium-ready, non-specific adversity anthems that skillfully toe the line between radio-ready -- in a sort of Muse-meets-Dragonforce way ("Abandon," "Unbreakable," "Halcyon Days") -- and too epic for prime time ("Out of the Fog," "If the Story Is Over," "Nemesis"), resulting in another riveting, ludicrous, ornate, hammy, and explosive set from one of the genre's finest practitioners.© James Christopher Monger /TiVo

The score for any Star Trek film relies heavily upon the introduction of the classic eight-note motif that has shadowed the pop culture phenomenon since its arrival on the big screen in 1979. For Star Trek: Nemesis, the series' tenth installment, Jerry Goldsmith delivers the theme with all of the pomp one could hope for on the rousing "Remus." What follows is a fairly typical yet immensely enjoyable sci-fi soundtrack, filled with pounding dissonance, wonder, and the occasional moment of tender camaraderie -- the quietly powerful "Ideals" -- that one would expect from this legendary saga and composer.© TiVo

Pianist and composer Aaron Parks is best known as a member of trumpeter Terence Blanchard's excellent sextet that recorded Bounce (2003) and Flow (2005). In addition, he worked with Blanchard on the soundtrack to Spike Lee's Inside Man and score for Lee's Katrina: A Tale of God's Will. Invisible Cinema is his debut on Blue Note Records. Parks teams with Eric Harland, the brilliant drummer from Charles Lloyd's group, as well as bassist Matt Penman and guitarist Mike Moreno. This is an interesting group with interlocking histories, creating a sense of familiarity with one another that all comes together here. Parks and Moreno played together on former Blanchard alum Kendrick Scott's album The Source, as well as Moreno's own Between the Lines. Penman and Harland are members of the SF Jazz Collective, and Harland and Parks backed Penman on Catch of the Day. The name of the game here is in the title; this is imagistic music that is big on nuance, space, and beautifully constructed melodies made up of equal parts piano and guitar, underscored and articulately dramatized by Penman's pristine sense of time and pulse and Harland's dancing movement but yet very physical manner of inhabiting his drum kit. Melodic improvisation is the key in Parks' mysterious, strangely beautiful compositions, such as the elliptical, shapeshifting "Peaceful Warrior." Parks employs his elegant style to full effect, allowing his sense of restraint and economy to create tension and drama, which is pointedly accented by Moreno. The dialogue between them is uncanny even in sparser moments -- one can think of only two other piano/guitar pairings like this one, Pat Metheny/Lyle Mays and Ketil Bjørnstad/Terje Rypdal. Here the structured euphoric feel of the former and the spaciousness and haunting melodic sense of the latter are combined. The sheer physicality of Harland's kit work asserts itself on "Nemesis," a track that, while not completely unhinged, is nonetheless more insistent and driving -- made more so by Penman's inventive stretching of the time signature while maintaining a rapid yet enveloping pulse. The repetitive single-chord piano theme (which changes abruptly in places) allows for Moreno to enter quickly and solo on the melody as Parks lets his piano engage his lines a few minutes in, with an ornamental but far from florid solo. Harland's addition of skeletal, expertly articulated breaks in between the two creates part of the tune's real escalation. Parks brings back "Harvesting Dance," originally on Blanchard's Flow album, with gorgeous work from Penman and Harland, while allowing his own gently ringing pianism a more speechlike articulation than it had in its earlier incarnation. The sense of movement, flight, and return on "Karma" is a real watermark that establishes an identity for this entire band. Harland and Penman almost steal the show, but that would have been OK with Parks. He and Moreno aren't about showcasing individual athletic abilities on their front-line instruments, but are indeed committed to their roles in the ensemble as they create space and angles and suggest shapes that play off one another as well as this smoking rhythm section. Invisible Cinema is as fine a debut as one is likely to hear in 2008. It has plenty of sparks in its communication; it establishes the leader not only as an excellent soloist, but as a fine composer and arranger who understands his strengths as well as those of his bandmates. This is the sound of an improvising artist that has arrived fully formed.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

When was the last time you saw anyone in corpse paint smile? It's further proof of their flair for showmanship that two of the "slick perverted wraiths" in Cradle of Filth's 2004 publicity shot are flashing the pearly whites. The longstanding English group was never devoted purely to the black metal aesthetic; Dani Filth and his minions flaunted decadence amid their gravestones, and supported the usual atonal growls with the melodic gallop of metal traditionalism. This approach has always assured the listener a little entertainment with his fear, and Nymphetamine (what a name!) is no different. The laughably overwrought novellas of Damnation and a Day are gone -- Cradle's focusing on songs, not suites. Does this have anything to do with the band's new home at Roadrunner? The label is very good at encouraging the music to say hard while working to make it marketable, too; witness its co-branded Headbanger's Ball compilations. Whatever the reasons, Nymphetamine is an extremely entertaining album. Filth's vocals shift between roof-of-mouth-tearing screams and primordial yowls; coupled with the oft-melodic guitar lines, Cradle can at times resemble any of the slogan T-shirted American post-hardcore units (Used, for example). Thank the dark lord then that they don't forget their place. We don't listen to these albums to empathize with Dani's pain; we listen because they sound like a play list on Pinhead's iPod. After a typically spooky intro -- picture black-robed choirs and gargoyles coming to life -- Cradle drops the hammer on "Gilded C***" (you figure it out), a muscular rocker with wind-whipping time shifts and lyrics you can actually understand ("My preference leans to killing you quickly/Scissored in the gizzard...."). Most of the album plays dueling power metal guitars masterfully off a slower or more gothic choruses. "Absinthe With Faust," for example, departs from its Metallica-type speed for a firelight reflecting in the catacombs interlude. Hello, my pretty. Other highlights include the rapid-fire "Medusa and Hemlock," a guest appearance from Leaves' Eyes chanteuse Liv Kristine Espenaes Krull, and "Filthy Little Secret," which is utterly cinematic in its orchestral, choral, and ultimately explosive scope.© Johnny Loftus /TiVo

For this tight and enjoyable quartet date, bassist Dave Holland spread the composing opportunities around, his sidemen accounting for four of the six pieces. Arguably, none of these musicians ever sounded better, or more adventurous, than when performing in Holland's bands. While the leader himself retreated a good deal from his more routinely avant-garde recordings of the '70s, he appeared unwilling to allow his younger compadres to simply coast, instead evoking probing and thoughtful playing from them. Altoist Steve Coleman derives particular benefit from Holland's supervision, sounding far more fluid and confident than own his own rather more stilted albums. The pieces follow a general head-solos-head format, though with substantial elasticity and enough variation that no sense of sameness settles in. Holland, of course, is masterful throughout, and one can easily imagine simply listening exclusively to his basslines, the amazing imagination they convey, and being very satisfied. One of his better albums from this period, Extensions should please any Holland fan, and is an agreeable and non-threatening jumping in point for the curious.© Brian Olewnick /TiVo

On their sixth album, Emmure return to deliver Eternal Enemies, an exercise in pure, unfiltered catharsis that finds the bandmembers putting all of their energy into aggression. From start to finish, the album is positively seething with confrontational energy, taking every opportunity to let listeners join Emmure in having their backs against the wall as they take on any and all comers. While this constant stream of hostility can be a fatiguing for the casual listener, fans of the band looking for something to get their adrenaline pumping in the mosh pit will find Emmure have crafted yet another punishing excursion into nu-metalcore.© Gregory Heaney /TiVo

Although sparsely attended to with strings, percussion, and a few other ornamentations, Benjamin Clementine's debut album, At Least for Now, makes its case as a one-man show for piano and voice. The compelling British singer/songwriter is dramatic, self-assured, and theatrical in the extreme, boasting a powerful voice that swells to fill the room, which, on this unique record, seems to expand and shrink at the drop of a hat. A native of Edmonton in East London, Clementine left home at 16, eventually devoting himself to the lifestyle of an artistic vagabond, busking on the streets of Paris where he developed an unconventional style that blends together bits of soul, classical, opera, and street folk. A chance discovery by a French promoter led to bigger performances, a pair of acclaimed EPs, and a deal with Capitol. Opening his debut with "Winston Churchill's Boy," he boldly repurposes parts of the prime minister's famed WWII speech into an austere paean to his own journey of self-discovery. Like many of the songs on At Least for Now, it takes time to develop, but his magnetic delivery commands attention and his unusual songcraft is consistently interesting. "Adios," with its rapid-fire piano minimalism, seems to contain all of Clementine's vocal personalities as he soulfully opens up his lungs in the verses, only to half-bark the choruses before inserting a rambling spoken word rant about angels midway through. There's no shortage of standouts, with "London" and the skittering cabaret of "Nemesis" among the album's best moments. The stark, melodramatic "Cornerstone," a centerpiece of his first EP, makes another appearance here to great effect. At Least for Now is a pop record of sorts, but completely on his own terms, and like Antony Hegarty (an acknowledged influence) and Rufus Wainwright, two artists who have similar aspirations of pseudo-classical grandeur, Clementine will no doubt be polarizing for many listeners. There is no question, however, of his raw talent, poeticism, and knack for beguiling melodies, and in this oversaturated market, the true mavericks will always rise above the din.© Timothy Monger /TiVo

When trumpet player Terence Blanchard calls you the Art Blakey, Elvin Jones and Tony Williams of your generation, crowds will inevitably gather. Four albums later (The Source in 2006, Reverance in 2010, Conviction in 2013 and We Are the Drum in 2015), Kendrick Scott had not yet made a name for himself like the three aforementioned artists. However, many considered the Texan graduate of Berklee College, Boston as one of the most exciting drummers of his generation. This is confirmed with A Wall Becomes a Bridge, his second record for Blue Note. This time, Oracle, his four-piece group is composed of Taylor Eigsti on keys, Mike Moreno on guitar, John Ellis on saxophone and bass clarinet, Joe Sanders on bass, and even a DJ, Jahi Sundance. A supplementary touch of soul’n’groove mixed with exquisite post-bop highlights in particular the harmony between these two styles. Once again, Kendrick Scott has had the foresight not to be tempted to direct his sole attention to his instrument of preference. Much like “We Are the Drum”, this 2019 work is not the great work of a drummer. But simply a great work of music. © Clotilde Maréchal/Qobuz