Unable to perform his 2021 spring tour at the Royal Albert Hall due to COVID-19 restrictions, Eric Clapton, a staunch defender of free access to his concerts, is playing an intimate show at Cowdray House, a plush mansion in England’s Sussex countryside. Spectators? Only one. In the balcony, his wife Melia McEnery, for whom the work is titled, in the form of a declaration of love: The Lady In The Balcony: Lockdown Sessions. But anyone else can watch too, since the whole thing was captured by Russ Titelman and even screened in the cinema. This is how the maestro responds to the harshness of the current situation: by offering moments of grace. With his musicians Chris Stainton (keyboards), Nathan East (bass) and Steve Gadd (drums), Clapton plays a whole range of classic blues songs from his discography: Key To Highway by Big Bill Bonzy, his cover of JJ Cale's After Midnight, Man of the World and Black Magic Woman written in the early days of Fleetwood Mac by Peter Green, whom Clapton salutes in passing, or the vintages Layla or Tears In Heaven. The old friends end on electric with Muddy Waters' brilliant Long Distance Call and Got My Mojo interspersed with Bad Boy from Clapton's first album. With the unlikely acoustics offered by the venue and a particular attention to the impeccable sound recording, Slowhand goes on a journey, in a peaceful mood, among friends. A Dantean era calls for an exceptional concert. © Charlotte Saintoin/Qobuz

Its massive success -- it is one of the rare albums to be certified as diamond in the U.S. and it went platinum all over the world; it also won the Album of the Year Grammy for 1992 -- makes it difficult to place Eric Clapton's 1992 MTV Unplugged in context, but it's important to do so. It arrived three years into MTV Unplugged's run -- 1989 also being the year Clapton stirred artistically with the assured AOR of Journeyman -- and a year after Paul McCartney established the practice of an official album release of an Unplugged session with his own Unplugged (The Official Bootleg). Also in 1991, Clapton's young son Conor died in a tragic accident. The guitarist wrote "Tears in Heaven" as a tribute to his late son and, via its inclusion on the 1991 soundtrack to Rush, it became a hit single and, later, a centerpiece to the Unplugged set. The passage of time has blurred the lines separating all these events, suggesting Clapton's 1992 Unplugged was the first-ever MTV album, that it alone was responsible for revitalizing EC's career, that it is was the place where "Tears in Heaven" premiered, when none of that is quite true. What is true is that Unplugged is the concert and album that established the MTV program as a classy, tony showcase for artists eager to redefine themselves via reexamination of their catalogs, which is what Clapton cannily did here. The album's hit was a slow crawl through Derek & the Dominos' "Layla," turning that anguished howl of pain into a cozy shuffle and the whole album proceeds at a similar amiable gait, taking its time and enjoying detours into old blues standards. Clapton is embracing his middle age and the pleasure of Unplugged is to hear him opt out of the pop star game as he plays songs he's always loved. Tellingly, it's these blues and folk covers -- Jesse Fuller's "San Francisco Bay Blues," Big Bill Broonzy's "Hey Hey," the standard "Alberta," Muddy Waters' "Rollin' and Tumblin'," two songs from Robert Johnson ("Walkin' Blues," "Malted Milk") -- that are the best performances here; they're alternately lively and relaxed, Clapton happily conforming to the contours of the compositions. These capture a moment in time, when EC was settling into his age by reconnecting with the past, whereas the originals -- whether it's the revised versions of "Layla" and "Old Love," "Tears in Heaven," or the debut of "My Father's Eyes," originally heard here (and on the 2013 expanded anniversary edition) but released as a single much later in the decade -- point forward to the sharply tailored adult contemporary crooner of the '90s, one who turned out to be very comfortable existing in a world of high thread counts and designer duds. These are the tunes that belong to the '90s -- and several of these also appear on the 2013 expansion, which contains songs that didn't appear on the album, almost all of which are originals apart from an alternate "Walkin' Blues" and "Worried Life Blues" -- but the rest of MTV Unplugged manages to transcend its time because it does cut to the quick of Clapton's musical DNA.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

If this is blues, it's blues in the Billie Holiday sense, not the Muddy Waters one. This is one of Nina Simone's more subdued mid-'60s LPs, putting the emphasis on her piano rather than band arrangements. It's rather slanted toward torch-blues ballads like "Strange Fruit," "Trouble in Mind," Billie Holiday's own composition "Tell Me More and More and Then Some," and "Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out." Simone's then-husband, Andy Stroud, wrote "Be My Husband," an effective adaptation of a traditional blues chant. By far the most impressive track is her frantic ten-minute rendition of the traditional "Sinnerman," an explosive tour de force that dwarfs everything else on the album.© Richie Unterberger /TiVo

Three weeks after Future and Metro Boomin released the chart-topping collaboration WE DON'T TRUST YOU, the two followed it up with another, WE STILL DON'T TRUST YOU. A distinct work and not a deluxe edition of the previous release, WE STILL DON'T TRUST YOU is a nearly 90-minute sprawl divided into two parts. The first, which takes up more than an hour, is a diversion from the duo's usual trap sound. The opening title track features the Weeknd, and it sounds similar to his blend of dark, neon synth pop and downer R&B. The other songs aren't as clubby, but they often feature glossy synths and aching melodies. The Weeknd makes two more appearances, Ty Dolla $ign pops up, Brownstone are given a feature credit for a garbled sample of "If You Love Me," and J. Cole has a guest verse on the breezy "Red Leather," although it's not entirely clear if his appearance has anything to do with his well-publicized beef with Kendrick Lamar, who guested on WE DON'T TRUST YOU's "Like That." The brief second part of WE STILL DON'T TRUST YOU, consisting of a Charlamagne tha God radio intro and just six songs, is a return to hard trap, with Lil Baby and A$AP Rocky providing guest verses.© TiVo Staff /TiVo

25 years after his first album, NATURALLY, J.J. Cale created GUITAR MAN, an album made up of hypnotic grooves forged out of elegantly simple components. The album is largely a solo affair, with only scattered additional accompaniment, such as on the incredible opening tune, "Death in the Wilderness." Otherwise, Cale plays every instrument, adding particularly strong guitar work to the mix.Remarkably, Cale's easygoing front-porch character is no less warm when he utilizes subtle keyboards and electronic percussion. With the exception of his arrangement of the traditional "Old Blue" (popularized by the Byrds in one of their later incarnations), the songs are all Cale originals. Besides songs that mine the familiar thematic territory of love, longing, and taking it easy, there's a handful that address world ills such as the environment and crime. He manages to tackle these issues without ever being didactic. However, he was sufficiently impassioned to include the lyrics to all the songs this time out. The title song and "Low Down" are two Cale classics that contain familiar lyrical and musical phrases that sound completely timeless when he sings and plays them.© TiVo

Entitled McCartney II because its one-man band approach mirrors that of his first solo album, Paul McCartney's first record since the breakup of Wings was greeted upon its release as a return to form, especially since its synth-heavy arrangements seemed to represent his acceptance of new wave. In retrospect, the record is muddled and confused, nowhere more so than on the frazzled sequencing of "Temporary Secretary," where McCartney spits out ridiculous lyrics with a self-consciously atonal melody over gurgling synths. Things rarely get worse than that, and occasionally, as in the effortless hooks of "Coming Up," the record is quite enjoyable. Nevertheless, the majority of McCartney II is forced, and its lack of memorable melodies is accentuated by the stiff electronics, which were not innovative at the time and are even more awkward in the present. At least McCartney II finds Paul in an adventurous state of mind, which is a relief after years of formulaic pop. In some ways, the fact that he was trying was more relevant than the fact that the experiments failed. © Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Following a recent break-up, Jasmine Lucilla Elizabeth Jennifer van den Bogaerde, aka Birdy, has revealed that she has been listening to a lot of Etta James and Nina Simone. The Englishwoman embarked on a three-month trip to India before dropping anchor in California, in Topanga, in the Santa Monica Mountains. This region had a connection to the seventies Laurel Canyon scene, which brought together James Taylor, Jackson Browne and Joni Mitchell, whose legendary album Blue Birdy has been playing on repeat. All of these experiences went into giving Young Heart the feel of a mature work, which is no mean feat given that this artist shot to the top of the charts in 2011, aged just 15, with her cover of Bon Iver's Skinny Love. Now she is leaving big production values behind: this is all about a sparse sound, a less-is-more sensibility, and confessional songwriting. And in a crowded field of break-up albums, Birdy is able to stay ahead of the pack thanks to her sharp pen (And dark are my days now that I face them on my own, so long are the nights now that I'm sleeping here alone) and her masterful, shimmering melodies. In the middle section of this fourth album, which is indeed clearly influenced by Joni Mitchell, she demonstrates her confidence by playing a long excerpt from Chopin's Waltz No.19 in A Minor. This album seems to mark the moment when, at the age of just 25, Birdy really found a style and tone to call her own. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

Palomino sees the Söderberg sisters venture into the realms of pop. It’s almost as if they had to give themselves time to mature before granting themselves this expressive freedom. Whilst the elegant country-folk of Ruins (2017) painted the American dream in beautifully nostalgic colours, this sixth album—written during the pandemic—willingly takes on a sunny, joyful sound with some great synths. These instruments make an appearance right from the start, in the intro of ‘Out My Head’, a jaw-dropping track that undeniably constitutes the album’s most poppy digression. The sisters avoid building a pop monolith by ensuring the 9 other tracks are cut from a different cloth. Klara and Johanna take inspiration from Fleetwood Mac (‘Ready to Run’) and T. Rex’s glam rock (‘A Feeling That Never Came’). They also put the pedal to the metal on a few folk ballads, such as the acoustic ‘Wild Horses II’ and ‘Nobody Knows’. Palomino was recorded in Rymden Studios in Stockholm with Swedish producer Daniel Bengtson—something that hasn’t happened since their debut album, The Big Black & the Blue, 2010! © Charlotte Saintoin/Qobuz

Wishing to escape the superstar expectations that sank Blind Faith before it was launched, Eric Clapton retreated with several sidemen from Delaney & Bonnie to record the material that would form Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs. From these meager beginnings grew his greatest album. Duane Allman joined the band shortly after recording began, and his spectacular slide guitar pushed Clapton to new heights. Then again, Clapton may have gotten there without him, considering the emotional turmoil he was in during the recording. He was in hopeless, unrequited love with Pattie Boyd, the wife of his best friend, George Harrison, and that pain surges throughout Layla, especially on its epic title track. But what really makes Layla such a powerful record is that Clapton, ignoring the traditions that occasionally painted him into a corner, simply tears through these songs with burning, intense emotion. He makes standards like "Have You Ever Loved a Woman" and "Nobody Knows You (When You're Down and Out)" into his own, while his collaborations with Bobby Whitlock -- including "Any Day" and "Why Does Love Got to Be So Sad?" -- teem with passion. And, considering what a personal album Layla is, it's somewhat ironic that the lovely coda "Thorn Tree in the Garden" is a solo performance by Whitlock, and that the song sums up the entire album as well as "Layla" itself.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Part of Avril Lavigne's appeal -- a large part of it, actually -- is that she's a brat, acting younger than her 17 years on her 2002 debut, Let Go, and never seeming like she much cared about the past (she notoriously mispronounced David Bowie's name when reading Grammy nominations), or anything else for that matter. She lived for the moment; she partied with sk8er bois; she didn't want anything complicated. Thanks to production gurus the Matrix, Avril's proudly adolescent anthems were delivered in a shiny package built on steel-girded hooks -- a sound so catchy it came to define the mainstream not long after Let Go hit the radio. The Matrix became ubiquitous on the strength of their work with Lavigne, who herself became a big star, earning constant play on radio and MTV, kick starting a fashion trend of ties-n-tank tops for girls, and inexplicably providing a touchstone for indie rock queen Liz Phair's mainstream makeover. Fame, however, didn't pull the two camps together; it pushed them their separate ways, as the Matrix went on to record their own album and Avril decided to turn serious, working with a variety of co-writers and producers, including fellow Canadian singer/songwriter Chantal Kreviazuk, for her second album, 2004's Under My Skin. Lavigne hasn't only shed her trademark ties for thrift-shop skirts, she's essentially ditched the sound of Let Go, too, bringing herself closer to the mature aspirations of fellow singer/songwriter Michelle Branch. Since Avril is still a teenager, she's livelier than Branch. There may be an abundance of minor keys and midtempo cuts, but Under My Skin is fueled by teen angst; sometimes, it seems as if she's the first to discover the joys of love and the pain of heartache. In a sense, she comes across as Alanis Morissette's kid sister, especially now that the Matrix are gone and the hooks have been pushed to the background for much of the record; it's the teen spin on Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie, where she's self-consciously trying to grow as an artist. Naturally, this means that Under My Skin isn't as infectious as Let Go since there's nothing as giddy as "Sk8er Boi," even if much of it is written from a similarly adolescent vantage point. Lavigne's collaborators, Kreviazuk and Evan Taubenfeld chief among them, have helped streamline her writing via their meticulous arrangements, and her performances are assured, so Avril sounds as if she's maturing a bit. In fact, that blend of confidence and confusion gives Under My Skin its pulse; no matter how polished the surface, there's no hiding Avril's attitude and ambition.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

If a decade separates Henry Saint Clair Fredericks alias Taj Mahal from Kevin Roosevelt Moore alias Keb' Mo', blues is the common thread that joins the lives of these two great musicians. But this blues is anything but monolithic, taking nourishment from soul as well as from rock'n'roll and world music. Taj Mahal and Keb' Mo' have united for the first time under the banner of TajMo to bring out this record. Mixing covers and original compositions and bringing in Bonnie Raitt, Joe Walsh, Sheila E. and Lizz Wright, the album offers two styles that mix together to give birth to a music striking the perfect balance between tradition and innovation. Here the soul is festive (That’s Who I Am), there the blues is pared-down (Diving Duck Blues) and a little further off there are Cajun flavours too (Squeeze Box). But it is the collaboration between the two men that makes TajMo really exhilarating. © CM/Qobuz

After turning some heads with his debut, Billy Squier truly arrived with 1981's Don't Say No, which kicks off in spectacular fashion with the triple opening salvo of "In the Dark," "The Stroke," and "My Kinda Lover" -- all of which become staples at rock radio. The album is a near-perfect example of early-'80s melodic hard rock, and even less enduring (but hardly inferior rockers) such as "You Know What I Like" and "Lonely Is the Night" keep up the intensity. And Squier also finds time for the occasional ballad, like the disarmingly gentle "Nobody Knows." Completists may want to review his mid-'90s double-disc anthology, but as far as studio albums are concerned, Don't Say No is undoubtedly his best.© Eduardo Rivadavia /TiVo

The first time Claude Nobs, the future founder of the Montreux Festival, went to the United States was in 1965 to Chicago, where as soon as he got off the plane, he found himself immersed  in a tour of the local blues clubs. His night ended in a daze, after concerts by Howlin' Wolf and Muddy Waters with shots of whisky served by Willie Dixon. A great moment in his personal history, a memory that must have resurfaced a few years later when the stages of Montreux were honoured by the presence of Muddy Waters in 1972, 1974 and 1977. This best-of selection of the three concerts in 16 tracks begins sublimely with the unarguable Nobody Know Chicago Like I Do. The father of modern Chicago blues, he is, as so often, at his best accompanied by the cream of musical talent (Buddy Guy, Junior Wells, Bill Wyman, Pinetop Perkins...), faithful to the style he created twenty years earlier. Muddy Waters performs all his hits (Mannish Boy, I’m Ready, Got My Mojo Workin’, Rollin’ And Tumblin’, I’m Ready…)  and other lesser-known numbers with all the class of an old cat that has not lost any of its sensual suppleness nor its wild instinct. Muddy Waters must have sung these songs a thousand times, but he still manages to give them a magical dimension. The interpretation is profound, the recording perfect in its clarity and density: this monster compilation of the Montreux years goes immediately to the top 5 of Muddy Waters' best live albums. © Stéphane Deschamps/Qobuz

Its massive success -- it is one of the rare albums to be certified as diamond in the U.S. and it went platinum all over the world; it also won the Album of the Year Grammy for 1992 -- makes it difficult to place Eric Clapton's 1992 MTV Unplugged in context, but it's important to do so. It arrived three years into MTV Unplugged's run -- 1989 also being the year Clapton stirred artistically with the assured AOR of Journeyman -- and a year after Paul McCartney established the practice of an official album release of an Unplugged session with his own Unplugged (The Official Bootleg). Also in 1991, Clapton's young son Conor died in a tragic accident. The guitarist wrote "Tears in Heaven" as a tribute to his late son and, via its inclusion on the 1991 soundtrack to Rush, it became a hit single and, later, a centerpiece to the Unplugged set. The passage of time has blurred the lines separating all these events, suggesting Clapton's 1992 Unplugged was the first-ever MTV album, that it alone was responsible for revitalizing EC's career, that it is was the place where "Tears in Heaven" premiered, when none of that is quite true. What is true is that Unplugged is the concert and album that established the MTV program as a classy, tony showcase for artists eager to redefine themselves via reexamination of their catalogs, which is what Clapton cannily did here. The album's hit was a slow crawl through Derek & the Dominos' "Layla," turning that anguished howl of pain into a cozy shuffle and the whole album proceeds at a similar amiable gait, taking its time and enjoying detours into old blues standards. Clapton is embracing his middle age and the pleasure of Unplugged is to hear him opt out of the pop star game as he plays songs he's always loved. Tellingly, it's these blues and folk covers -- Jesse Fuller's "San Francisco Bay Blues," Big Bill Broonzy's "Hey Hey," the standard "Alberta," Muddy Waters' "Rollin' and Tumblin'," two songs from Robert Johnson ("Walkin' Blues," "Malted Milk") -- that are the best performances here; they're alternately lively and relaxed, Clapton happily conforming to the contours of the compositions. These capture a moment in time, when EC was settling into his age by reconnecting with the past, whereas the originals -- whether it's the revised versions of "Layla" and "Old Love," "Tears in Heaven," or the debut of "My Father's Eyes," originally heard here (and on the 2013 expanded anniversary edition) but released as a single much later in the decade -- point forward to the sharply tailored adult contemporary crooner of the '90s, one who turned out to be very comfortable existing in a world of high thread counts and designer duds. These are the tunes that belong to the '90s -- and several of these also appear on the 2013 expansion, which contains songs that didn't appear on the album, almost all of which are originals apart from an alternate "Walkin' Blues" and "Worried Life Blues" -- but the rest of MTV Unplugged manages to transcend its time because it does cut to the quick of Clapton's musical DNA.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

The crisply cut samples; the deep, laid-back voice; the English accent and false monotony... No doubt about it, this is Loyle Carner. With his third album, titled hugo, the London rapper has stuck with the aesthetic that threw him into stardom in 2017. Though the water might seem still, watch out: this album makes a strong political statement. Especially the track ‘Blood on My Nikes’, which deals with social violence and settling scores, referencing the knife attacks that have plagued the English suburbs ever since the beginning of the 2010s. Loyle Carner plainly explains that the problem is global; that government inaction and implicit segregation are responsible for the situation. At times, it almost feels as if the album is resurrecting Guru on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean (‘Georgetown’). Loyle Carner’s rap is fierce, gently grabbing the listener by the collar, and the album has been crafted with disconcerting closeness and intimacy. He’s familiar with the city at night and restores the mood that makes London rap so special, just like Jeshi does. He’s one of the masters of this sound; a responsibility he’s more than happy to assume. © Brice Miclet/Qobuz

The mysterious Followill family returns to the front porch/garage on the Kings of Leon's engaging sophomore effort, Aha Shake Heartbreak. On Youth & Young Manhood, the Kings gave Southern rock a swift kick in the rear, sounding like Lynyrd Skynyrd posing as a bunch of N.Y.U. film students (or vice versa). For their latest, the Nashville quartet raises a flag that's equal parts Confederate and Union Jack. Their success in the U.K. is understandable, as Caleb Followill's lazy drawl sounds like a cross between Bon Scott, Ray Davies, and Eddie Money with a slight Jamaican accent, but it's their seamless and agreeable blend of rock & roll, country, and Roky Erickson-style psychedelia, matched with a keen lyrical wit, that makes them fascinating to both sides of the pond. On the twenty-something barfly opener "Slow Night, So Long," Caleb laments/celebrates the soulless dance of the one-night stand ("She's opened up just like she really knows me/I hate her face, but enjoy the company") like a true student of outlaw country. It's a theme that runs rampant throughout Heartbreak, and whether it's set against a swamp-sick boogie ("Pistol of Fire") or emitted through a lonesome yodel ("Day Old Blues"), it resonates as clear and cool as the opening notes of a Creedence Clearwater Revival tune.© James Christopher Monger /TiVo