The Complete Budokan 1978 captures some of Dylan's very first concert appearances in Japan and is an essential release for diehards, while an intriguing curio for the casual listener. Complete Budokan encompasses all of the material originally issued as a double LP in 1978, plus three dozen additional tracks. This lovingly remastered album, sourced from the original 24-channel multi-track analog tapes, sounds far crisper than the original release (especially the vocals). Released to coincide with the 45th anniversary of the original eight-show run at the infamous Budokan auditorium, we hear the entirety of two shows from February 28 and March 1, 1978. Bob Dylan is at a fascinating crossroads in his career here, and in fine voice. The album finds our hero in between the traveling circus that was the mid 1970s Rolling Thunder tour, and one year before his conversion to Christianity. Dylan shows us what a traditional American great he is, with a near-orchestral band and dramatically reworked takes on classic songs. Some of these arrangements are wonky, especially to modern ears. But they're always intriguingly put together, and intricately executed takes—the highlight being a knockdown, muscular "The Man in Me." It's clear from the start that this is not your grandpa's Dylan. Stirring leads on saxophone, mandolin, and fiddle deliver the vocal melodies to "A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall." "Shelter from the Storm" is given a halting, reggae-ish tempo, a positively E Street-worthy sax solo, and the delightful touches one would expect from the Dead. Other tunes stray closer to a Vegas revue. "I Threw It All Away" is transformed into a full-blown showtune, as the backing vocals take center stage. One wonders if a line of chorus dancers were onstage for this or the lilting, tango-esque take on "Love Minus Zero." There is occasional flute, notably on "Mr. Tambourine Man," which we weren't sure about at first, but by the third listen we were absolutely digging it, even as it takes the tune straight to Margaritaville. © Mike McGonigal/Qobuz

Just prior to the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, Green Day released Father of All… -- an album co-produced by Butch Walker that found the punk-pop veterans ratcheting up the glam as they tightened their song structures. It's difficult to separate the album's short shelf-life from the culture's sudden lockdown but in any case, Father didn't open up a new horizon for Green Day, so they went back to what they know works: heavy, hooky power pop given crunch and weight by Rob Cavallo, the producer who helped beef up their sound 30 years prior on their major-label debut Dookie. Saviors follows the same rough blueprint as its forefather -- garagey rockers are countered by exuberant melodies and wistful ballads -- but the trio is smart enough to not attempt to mimic either the snottiness or their frenetic rhythms here. Green Day sound exactly like what they are: rock & roll lifers settling into middle age, irritated by some shifts in culture but still finding sustenance in the music they've loved for decades. They may rhapsodize about a "Corvette Summer" in a salute to the glory days of pre-MTV AOR but age hasn't made them crankily conservative or excessively nostalgic. Green Day send certain catchy rock styles from the past through a loud, muscular filter, an execution that tempers their lingering punk influences without seeming lumbering or slow. The ballast makes Saviors seem streamlined and steady, a shift in emphasis that is impossible to ignore on first listen; they seem as if they're retracting. After that initial impression fades, Saviors sounds cleaner, stronger, and purposeful, all due to the still-sharp pop instincts of Bille Joe Armstrong. Age may dampen Green Day's roar, but it has also heightened their songcraft, and that's reason enough to give Saviors time to let its hooks sink in.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Not only is Isabelle Faust one of the greatest violinists of our age (and perhaps all ages), but she  is also blessed with a powerful curiosity, seemingly always on the lookout for composers and  repertoire off the beaten track, as a glance at her discography will show. This collection of compositions by the eccentric genius Pietro Antonio Locatelli, is a splendid illustration of Faust's adventuresome repertoire. Locatelli's violin works run the gamut, from  staggering virtuosity, exemplified here by his Concerto for Violin in A, Op. 3, No. 11, where the  composer stretches the capabilities of both violin and violinist, to the achingly  beautiful and tender Concerto Grosso in E-Flat, Il pianto d'Arianna, Op. 7, No. 6. Faust is easily up to all the challenges posed: the jaw-dropping difficulties of the Concerto in A—including  finger-busting double stops and high notes (16th position!) played just a fraction of an inch  from the bridge—as well as the gorgeous lyricism of Il pianto d'Arianna. Also on this release are other works by Locatelli that are all striking in their originality and played with equal aplomb by  Faust and sensitively accompanied by Giovanni Antonini and his forces. © Anthony Fountain/Qobuz

Over the past 24 years, Tracey Thorn has released four solo albums and published four books. Ben Watt founded a label, Buzzin' Fly, and made his own solo records. But it's been nearly a quarter century since the married duo produced a record together as Everything but the Girl. Fuse is worth the wait. During that time, and before, the band's influence has remained strong—there's no shortage of singers cooing beautiful misery over drum-and-bass beats. But, as Romy Madley Croft of The xx has said of Thorn: "One of my goals always is to say a lot while saying very little … and I definitely think that Tracey does that." On lush "Nothing Left To Lose," Thorn sounds as smoky and soulful as ever against Watt's sonic reverberations, even as she gives in to submissive desperation. "I'm here at your door/ And I've been here before/ Tell me what to do/ Cause nothing works without you/ I know the hour is late/ And I know you'll make me wait." At one point, the glitch beat drops down, then out, and you hear Thorn take a breath in—and it's as intimately meaningful as any words. She sounds comfortable wearing Dusty Springfield's mantle on stark and spare, deep and dark "Run A Red Light" and "When You Mess Up." The latter doesn't have a traditional ending; instead, it's just Thorn singing "Christ, we all mess up" as the music lingers, unsure if she'll return, then fades—content not to put a bow on it. Watt puts a sort-of AI effect on Thorn's voice for that song and adds an electronic tremor to it for "Caution To The Wind." "We have to fuck up my voice," Thorn has said of the record. "We were desperate to fuck up my voice. It's one of the key signatures of the band, so it was the most fun thing," Thorn has said of the experiment. The duo said they wrote the lyrics for shimmering "Lost" by typing "I lost..." into Google for auto-fill results. "I lost my place/ I lost my bags … I lost my perfect job/ I lost the plot," Thorn sings, before delivering the gut punch: "I lost my faith and my best friend/ I lost my mother." She gets lyrically playful on dreamy "No One Knows We're Dancing" ("First up, this is Fabio/ He drives here from Torino/ Parking tickets litter/ His Fiat Cinquecento") and sunny "Karaoke" (A guy then goofed through Elvis/ Why not, I thought, why not?/ If you want it you can own it/ Just aim, then take a shot"), one setting the scene at a dance club and the other at a karaoke bar. "After so much time apart professionally, there was both a friction and a natural spark in the studio when we began," Thorn has said of musically reuniting with her husband. "And it ended in a kind of coalescence, an emotional fusion. It felt very real and alive." © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

The virtuoso Marc-André Hamelin isn't the first pianist one would think of when it comes to Fauré's music, but he has recorded all kinds of things, even ragtime, and as it happens, he does quite well with the dense miniatures heard on this album. Fauré's Nocturnes are at some level connected to Chopin's but are quite different, with murky chromaticism, especially in the later ones, setting the night atmosphere. Fauré is thought of as a musical conservative, but one would hardly know it from the pieces here that stubbornly refuse to settle on a tonal center. The counterpoint is complex, and a successful performance is one that untangles it. There isn't big, pianistic virtuosity here, but Hamelin's ability to balance Fauré's registers is virtuosic in its own way. The Barcarolles, a genre not much pursued by other composers but for Fauré seeming to allow rays of Venetian sunshine into his rather closed-in French world, are lighter but basically cut from the same cloth. Things lighten up with the final Dolly Suite, Op. 56, where Hamelin performs with his wife, Cathy Fuller. (For those wondering, neither Mi-a-ou nor the Kitty-valse has anything to do with cats.) Although Hyperion's church sound is not idiomatic, it does not damage the remarkable clarity in what is a significant entry in the Fauré discography, one that landed on classical best-seller lists in the late summer of 2023.© James Manheim /TiVo

The teenage pianist Yunchan Lim has gotten reams (or gigabytes) of good press, yet listeners may have any number of reasons for being skeptical. Lim's K-pop looks are not everyone's cup of tea, and on his debut album, while showing plenty of promise, he seemed oddly reluctant to take the spotlight. Any doubts, however, will be put to rest by Lim's performances, recorded here, in his winning career in the 2022 Van Cliburn Competition in Fort Worth, Texas. They are astonishing. Competition performances often have a well-practiced, safe quality, but not this one; Lim goes out onto the edge and stays there. Sample at will, and note that he tends to give quieter passages an almost harsh quality; his method is to raise the tension, which he knows he can dissipate in brilliant, tumultuous passagework. What's more, he accomplishes these utterly distinctive performances in Liszt's Transcendental Etudes, often-recorded works that are commonplace in the competition repertory. The title of this collection is slightly mistranslated from its French original, Études d'exécution transcendante ("Etudes of Transcendental Execution"). The original points up the degree to which, for all the storm and thunder, these are true etudes, posing specific technical problems for the player, and Lim sets the rigorous and the fantastic elements against each other brilliantly. One need only add that Steinway's live sound is superlative. Everything one has heard is true, and this album made classical best-seller charts in the summer of 2022.© James Manheim /TiVo

This recording landed on classical best-seller lists in the autumn of 2023, and several factors combined to place it there. One is the sensitive ensemble work throughout from the trio of violinist Veronika Jarůšková, cellist Peter Jarůšek, and pianist Boris Giltburg. Jarůšková and Jarůšek are members of the fine Pavel Haas Quartet, but the trio, as such, is quite new, and Giltburg, moreover, is better known for virtuoso repertory than for chamber music. One would never know it from the seamlessly executed conceptions and transitions, with Giltburg in no way spilling out of the texture. Another factor is the presence of the first two Dvořák trios, early but by no means immature works. Recordings of them are not common, but hear the absolutely characteristic opening of the Piano Trio No. 1 in B flat major, Op. 21, with its pentatonic melody; handled as sensitively as it is here by Jarůšková, the work is the equal of any of the later trios. Lastly, there is the fresh reading of the Piano Trio, Op. 90 ("Dumky"), one of Dvořák's most popular works. Several movements receive interesting interpretations. Consider the beginning, where the Lento maestoso designation is applied to the movement as a whole, with the opening chords kept consistent in tempo with what follows. This diverts the emotional center to the beautifully sad counterpoint between the cello and violin as the movement continues. The sound from the Wyastone Estate is warm but a bit close up, one of few complaints, and this is a major chamber music release that will yield a great deal of satisfying listening.© James Manheim /TiVo

It’s rare for a work as crucial to piano literature as Liszt’s “Sonata in B Minor” to be submerged beneath the thematic title of an album rather than being presented as its primary sales pitch. Yet the great pianist Igor Levit clearly knows what he’s doing. Titled Fantasia, his new double album on Sony Classical is dedicated to pieces that escape all formal frameworks, covering a period of almost two centuries from 1720 to 1910. His program begins with the music of Johann Sebastian Bach, which single handedly galvanised a good part of Western classical music, finishing with Franz Liszt, Alan Berg, and Ferruccio Busoni, all three of whom cite Bach in their works, the first two having composed sonatas that rely more on a “Fantasia” than on a precise form. This freedom of composition is the common thread of this fascinating program that comprises in one fell swoop Bach’s exceptional “Chromatic Fantasia and Fugue” and Ferruccio Busoni’s monumental “Fantasia contrappuntistica,” to which Levit responds with renditions of Siloti, Liszt, and Busoni. With his soft and supple sonority, Igor Levit is above all an introspective musician who doesn’t try to make an outrageous demonstration of Liszt’s sonata, haunted by Goethe’s Faust, nor does he do so with that of Alban Berg, whose twelve-tone writing doesn’t burn bridges with music history. With his unique imagination and emotional depth, Igor Levit takes us on a fascinating interior journey through time periods and innovative styles whose timeless and expressive forces never stop compelling us. © François Hudry/Qobuz

After the catharsis of 2021's Act 1, Imagine Dragons complete the story with Mercury: Act 2, a whopping 18-track journey that examines the time after the shock and grief of loss has begun to settle. While part one processed those messy emotions with some of the rawest and most vulnerable moments in the band's usual radio- and gym-friendly catalog, part two loses focus by biting off more than they can chew. There are plenty of great songs here -- fully expected for a band as hook-savvy as Imagine Dragons -- but there's simply too much going on and not enough editorial trimming to make this as impactful an experience as Act 1. Starting strong with irresistible singles "Bones" and "Sharks," Act 2 soon takes a turn to the pensive and reflective, with frontman Dan Reynolds lamenting his shortcomings on "I Don't Like Myself" and pleading for relief on "Take It Easy." The second half of the album is weighed down by similar moments, snuffing the momentum of the handful of classic stompers peppered throughout. Of this introspective bunch, the country-dusted acoustic gem "Crushed" is on par with "Wrecked" as a tearjerking standout, as "Sirens" merges the group's usual radio-friendly ear with a deep well of emotion. While the buoyant handclaps-and-synths highlight "Younger" and the riffs-and-breakbeats blazer "Blur" come closest to joining their array of mainstream smashes on a future Greatest Hits set, the bulk of Act 2 is truly for the dedicated fans who care to patiently sit with Reynolds and his feelings until everyone's ready to pump out a more focused and immediate set. [Compiling both parts on Mercury: Acts 1 & 2, the band presents the full experience across an expansive 32 tracks, which joins Act 1 and 2 as well as the hit single "Enemy" with JID from the Arcane League of Legends soundtrack.]© Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo

Highly anticipated since the biopic trend took over Hollywood, the film depicting the Jamaican icon’s ascension to superstardom has been fully approved by the Marley family, with Kingsley Ben-Adir in the role of Bob and eldest son Ziggy as executive producer. To seal the deal, the label Tuff Gong has released a “soundtrack” to the film, which unsurprisingly showcases a number of Bob Marley’s hits, resembling an encore to Legend, with the eternal classics that are “Get Up, Stand Up,” “I Shot the Sheriff,” “Natural Mystic,” “Is This Love” and “Redemption Song”.We also hear the famous version of “No Woman, No Cry” at London’s Rainbow Theatre on June 4, 1977 – a concert that was seized upon for reissues in both 2020 and 2022. From the film, we also find “So Jah S’eh” and a version of “War/No More Trouble” with backing vocals by Naomi Cowan in place of the I-Threes, the new sensation of Jamaican reggae incarnating Marcia Griffiths in the film, and Anna-Sharé Blake, protégée of Protoje, playing Judy Mowatt. On keyboard for this version is Aston Barrett Junior, who takes on the role of his father, Family Man, legendary bassist, orchestra conductor, and scorned composer of the Wailers, who passed away February 3rd, 2024, a few days before the release of One Love, and whose immense career would also be deserving of its own film. © Smaël Bouaici/Qobuz

In covering the Beatles, jazz pianist Brad Mehldau chose to focus on the "strangeness" of the band's music. But as he explains in the liner notes, it's also the "universality," present in parallel to strangeness, that makes it so inviting and influential; the combination of the two—which may also be the secret to the band's artistic immortality—is, according to Mehldau, what underpins his approach to this beautifully realized project. Filmed and recorded live in front of an audience at the Philharmonie de Paris, this session benefits from intelligently placed microphones and minimal applause. It was edited by Camille Grateau, mixed by Nicolas Poitrenaud, and mastered in the U.S. by Greg Calbi at Sterling Sound. Though cries of "sellout" from jazz purists are sure-to-come, listeners will find many insights into Mehldau's playing and the band's utterly original creative universe. Opening with an unbroken suite of three tunes in their entirety ("I Am The Walrus," "Your Mother Should Know and "I Saw Her Standing There"—the last of which he plays in barrelhouse piano style), it's very clear that Mehldau brought immense thought, passion and especially respect for the band's prismatic genius to this project. He genuinely feels this music, most of which was composed on piano. Sticking relatively close to the familiar melodies, Mehldau embroiders them with a flow of ideas and chordal tangents. His improvisations never venture too far out, however, nor are they ever disconnected from any song's basic emotional underpinning. As is to be expected, some interpretations are more successful than others. "Here, There and Everywhere," played mostly in the piano's highest registers, stretches and crystallizes but abruptly stops, apparently out of discovery. In other cases, Mehldau uncovers rich new veins of inspiration: He makes a high energy mini concerto out of the usually triumphant "Maxwell's Silver Hammer," improvising high notes, adding moody journeys of improvisation, and at times snapping back into choruses where he flashes ornate New Orleans piano professor bravado. Best of all, at least for sentimentalists, is the pianist—who's often accused of a certain detachment and coldness in his playing—lingering over lush Paul McCartney songs like "Golden Slumbers" and "For No One," raising their melodic purity to new heights of poignancy. A rambunctious, joyous success on every level. © Robert Baird/Qobuz

Drop everything: it's here! For once, a reissue-plus-rarities set that's worth all the time you have. Revolver, the Beatles' seventh studio album originally issued on August 5,1966, is widely celebrated as the greatest single album of the rock era. It brought psychedelic invention paired with impeccable melodies to the entire world. That first, wildly inventive release remains beyond stunning, and this is not meant to supplant it in any way. The expanded reissue of Revolver shows us the most successful band in the world at the top of their powers, in love with possibility (each song is a different template for sonic possibilities, from blue-eyed soul to avant-garde pop to beautiful melancholic dream music), and still absolutely in love with being a band. The unabashed, youthful enthusiasm for using the studio as an instrument, which would be their path forward as they no longer toured after the release of Revolver, is on special display in all of the outtakes.You likely know the original inside and out, so be prepared. The new mixes by Giles Martin and Sam Okell are truly high fidelity. As you might have read, Martin (son to George) and Okell employ a "de-mixing" technology recently developed by Emile de la Rey and others for the Peter Jackson Get Back documentary project. New details emerge, and the voice separation is spectacular. We're not saying that it's like you are hearing it for the first time, but you will discern new elements in a way that enhances and never detracts. This is so difficult to not only accomplish, but to do well. We've all fallen for reissues that don't live up to the hype. Some grand sonic experiments with reissuing can take years to realize. Perhaps they didn't need to lop off half of the sonic information on the 1990s era Robert Johnson reissues in order to present the music without the crackles and pops of the original 78s. This new de-mix (get it?) is surely a new standard. Hundreds of hours of expert care went into this release. If you haven't listened in a while, the same questions remain, such as why begin their biggest leap forward with a song as lurching and "meh" as "Taxman?" Aside from that song being merely good and not mind-blowing, the only quibble is that the release's track listing presents different outtakes and demos of the same track end to end. One does see them flower and fracture by doing this, but after the first listens, it might be repetitive. This ahead-of-its-time full-length is so close to perfect.Beatlemaniacs and newborn fans alike must consider this the new reference, the new source. As the band infamously sing on "Tomorrow Never Knows" (which has the most revelatory demos of all on this set), invoking both Eastern thought and contemporary enthusiasts of the psychedelic revolution, "Lay down all thoughts, surrender to the void; it is shining, it is shining." © Mike McGonigal/Qobuz

John Cage's admiration for the music of Erik Satie is well known; Cage organized a Satie festival early in his career, and even casual listeners will detect a spirit of experimentation and a certain irreverence common to the two. Perhaps no one has explored the relationship in greater detail than pianist Bertrand Chamayou on this 2023 release, which hit classical best-seller lists in the autumn of that year. There are several real finds here. One is a rare Cage piece, All Sides of the Small Stone, that was actually dedicated to Satie's memory, and another is a work by Satie specialist James Tenney, Three Pages in the Shape of a Pear (In Celebration of Erik Satie), which suggests lines along which this compositional axis might be extended. In the main body of the program, Chamayou balances Satie and Cage nicely, picking some Cage works that sound quite a bit like Satie and tying the development of the prepared piano closely to these. This is a fresh interpretation. The overall effect has both charm and humor, qualities that aren't always associated with Cage. However, after hearing this album, listeners will feel that maybe they should be. Chamayou has, up to now, been better known for mainstream French and German repertory, but this release reveals him as a talented interpreter of 20th century music as well.© James Manheim /TiVo

The Sibelius Symphony No. 4 in A minor, Op. 63, is a classically gloomy work, received coolly by its original audiences even though the composer was enormously popular. Sibelius wrote it while suffering from throat cancer that could easily have killed him; as it happened, surgery was successful, and he lived for another 46 years. It is generally taken to exemplify a peculiarly deep kind of Nordic gloom. Conductor Santtu-Matias Rouvali has gained quite a reputation for shaking up conventional interpretations, and interested listeners put this album on classical best-seller lists in early 2024. Here, he delivers more of the same, with a reading of the Fourth that is nervous and even a bit action-packed rather than gloomy. His performance is actually slightly slower than average, but it doesn't seem like it with all the little climaxes Rouvali inserts into the work. It is almost as if he is coming down on the side of the Sibelius contemporaries who argued for a hidden program in the symphony, something Sibelius himself denied. It is not a typical Sibelius Fourth, but it is intriguing, and the Gothenburg Symphony follows Rouvali effectively through unknown territory. In a work that does indeed have a program, The Wood Nymph, Op. 15, Rouvali offers a highly persuasive performance. He closes with a familiar work, the Valse triste, Op. 44, No. 1, but here again, he pushes the tempo; it is not an encore-type Valse triste. It is hard to know what to think of Rouvali's readings; perhaps he will set new standards, or perhaps they will be interpretational blips. Sample and decide.© James Manheim /TiVo

Using the textured sonics of The Unforgettable Fire as a basis, U2 expanded those innovations by scaling back the songs to a personal setting and adding a grittier attack for its follow-up, The Joshua Tree. It's a move that returns them to the sweeping, anthemic rock of War, but if War was an exploding political bomb, The Joshua Tree is a journey through its aftermath, trying to find sense and hope in the desperation. That means that even the anthems -- the epic opener "Where the Streets Have No Name," the yearning "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" -- have seeds of doubt within their soaring choruses, and those fears take root throughout the album, whether it's in the mournful sliding acoustic guitars of "Running to Stand Still," the surging "One Tree Hill," or the hypnotic elegy "Mothers of the Disappeared." So it might seem a little ironic that U2 became superstars on the back of such a dark record, but their focus has never been clearer, nor has their music been catchier, than on The Joshua Tree. Unexpectedly, U2 have also tempered their textural post-punk with American influences. Not only are Bono's lyrics obsessed with America, but country and blues influences are heard throughout the record, and instead of using these as roots, they're used as ways to add texture to the music. With the uniformly excellent songs -- only the clumsy, heavy rock and portentous lyrics of "Bullet the Blue Sky" fall flat -- the result is a powerful, uncompromising record that became a hit due to its vision and its melody. Never before have U2's big messages sounded so direct and personal.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Turning away from the sweet pop of Out of Time, R.E.M. created a haunting, melancholy masterpiece with Automatic for the People. At its core, the album is a collection of folk songs about aging, death, and loss, but the music has a grand, epic sweep provided by layers of lush strings, interweaving acoustic instruments, and shimmering keyboards. Automatic for the People captures the group at a crossroads, as they moved from cult heroes to elder statesmen, and the album is a graceful transition into their new status. It is a reflective album, with frank discussions on mortality, but it is not a despairing record -- "Nightswimming," "Everybody Hurts," and "Sweetness Follows" have a comforting melancholy, while "Find the River" provides a positive sense of closure. R.E.M. have never been as emotionally direct as they are on Automatic for the People, nor have they ever created music quite as rich and timeless, and while the record is not an easy listen, it is the most rewarding record in their oeuvre.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo