It's a running joke that every album released by the Rolling Stones is the band's "best since X," where X represents a random release from their extensive back catalog. Unsurprisingly, Hackney Diamonds has already received similar plaudits and comparisons. But the Stones' first full-length of original songs since 2005's A Bigger Bang can't really be compared to anything they've done before—namely because it's the first Stones album recorded (for the most part) without drummer Charlie Watts, who died in 2021. Watts does add his trademark crisp, jazzy swing to a pair of highlights: the strutting "Mess It Up" and swaggering boogie-rocker "Live by the Sword." (On the latter, former bassist Bill Wyman also contributes a grimy low end and Elton John adds freewheeling piano.) Elsewhere on Hackney Diamonds, Watts' hand-picked drumming replacement Steve Jordan anchors the rhythm section with his looser approach—a perfect match for big-sky rockers like the saxophone-augmented, funk-tinted "Get Close."But even with the lineup change, Hackney Diamonds feels like classic Stones—no asterisk needed. The album brims with familiar signifiers: fiery guitar interplay between Keith Richards and Ronnie Wood; an abundance of Jagger-Richards songwriting credits; and Jagger's inimitable vocals, which veer between spitfire sleaze and tender balladeer. Musically, Hackney Diamonds also spans the entire Stones continuum. "Dreamy Skies" is the kind of laid-back country rocker the band excel at writing; the string-swept "Depending on You" occupies a more introspective space; and "Driving Me Too Hard" is 1970s-era honky-tonking. On "Tell Me Straight," Richards even takes a turn on lead vocals. So what's the secret to Hackney Diamonds? Avowed Stones superfan Andrew Watt produced the album, which was an inspired choice: Watt pushes the Stones to play to their strengths and not rely on cliches. Hackney Diamonds' guests are also a welcome presence. Paul McCartney contributes bass to the barnstorming "Bite My Head Off," while the torchy power ballad centerpiece "Sweet Sounds of Heaven" includes keyboards and piano from Stevie Wonder and towering vocals from Lady Gaga. Fittingly, Hackney Diamonds ends with a song that's long featured into the Stones' mythology: a cover of Muddy Waters' "Rollin' Stone" (here called "Rolling Stone Blues"). The Stones' performance is raw and unfiltered, with shuffling harmonica and unpolished Jagger vocals; it sounds more like a low-key jam session than a high-gloss studio work. "Rolling Stone Blues" also gets to the heart of why Hackney Diamonds works so well: On the album, the Stones aren't trying to repeat themselves or recapture any past glories—but they are remembering their roots, and channeling the passion, ambition and musical chemistry that initially propelled them to superstardom. © Annie Zaleski/Qobuz

"It seems I'm miles above the surface of the earth/ I can see across the whole of London and beyond," intones Rotem Wilson over the hypnotic electronic pulsing of "The Harmony Codex," the title track of her husband Steven Wilson's seventh solo album. It's an evocative, widescreen scene that gives the listener a sense of the scale that Wilson is trying to achieve, along with being a moment of meditative pause in a record characterised by stylistic left-turns and surprises. In the past 15 years, since launching a solo career parallel to his three-and-a-half decades fronting Porcupine Tree, Wilson has thematically conceived his albums: 2008's Insurgentes revisited the post-punk sounds of his teenage years; 2021's The Future Bites was shiny synth pop. Here he sounds untethered from any particular concept, resulting in his most eclectic and experimental offering to date. Opener "Inclination" sets out his stall, moving from fidgety, Warp Records-styled electronica (replete with anxious, percussive breaths) to a sudden break ushering in Wilson's aching vocal, echoing that of Talk Talk's Mark Hollis on their landmark 1986 album, The Colour Of Spring. Wilson's proggy past resurfaces in the skittering jazz rhythms of "Impossible Tightrope" and the dreamy, Pink Floyd-like "What Life Brings." But, elsewhere, he seems intent on pushing himself in new directions. If there's a sense of existential unease apparent in the Peter Gabriel-esque "Time Is Running Out" ("You had a panic attack midway through the flight"), there's also emotional balm on offer in "Rock Bottom"—a mutually reassuring duet, with Israeli singer Ninet Tayeb, that comes across like an even more desperate take on Gabriel and Kate Bush's raw and heartfelt 1986 hit "Don't Give Up". The Harmony Codex never stays in one place for long, though. The climax of "Beautiful Scarecrow" shares some of its pummelling, industrial DNA with Massive Attack's Mezzanine album, "Actual Brutal Facts" finds Wilson successfully dabbling in pitch-shifted rapping, and the 9:27 trip that is closer "Staircase" is a multi-movement summation of all that has gone before. Overall, the lasting impression is that after realising the grand design that is The Harmony Codex, Steven Wilson can now go anywhere.  © Tom Doyle/Qobuz

U.K. journeyman Mark Knopfler returns after a six-year gap with 2024's One Deep River, his tenth solo record. Since retiring Dire Straits in the mid-'90s, his output as a singer/songwriter has remained remarkably consistent and uniquely his own. Within his refined roots rock mélange is a multitude of layers; bits of blues, country, and funky R&B rub elbows with Celtic, jazz, folk, and the brand of smooth guitar rock he pioneered with his former band. He is his own establishment, reliable, and at this point in his career, comfortable. Like its predecessor, 2018's Down the Road Wherever, One Deep River doesn't necessarily break new ground for Knopfler, but it does add a clutch of well-written, impeccably played songs to his canon. The breezy, shuffling "Ahead of the Game" is an instant classic with a memorable riff and lyrics describing a road band's itinerant lifestyle: "it was nothing but the hits in a room downtown, they're noisy as hell, but nice." These are the kind of smart slice-of-life lyrics Knopfler has built his career on and can still deliver with a craftsman's ease. He gets down and dirty on the rugged "Scavenger's Yard" and wrestles with past regrets on the gentle "Watch Me Go." There are charismatic story songs detailing robberies ("Tunnel 13") and dusty boomtowns ("Janine"), but Knopfler is often at his best when he allows himself to be sentimental. The river referred to in the album's title (and pictured on its cover) is the Tyne, the major artery of Newcastle in Northeast England where he grew up. One Deep River closes with its poignant title track, a paean to an enduring landmark he has no doubt crossed countless times in a life well spent as a traveling musician.© Timothy Monger /TiVo

With her tragic early death (though hardly surprising given Amy Winehouse's lifestyle) a truly unique voice of contemporary soul stopped singing on July 23, 2011. She has a voice that should never be overshadowed either by her chaotic life covering the pages of British tabloids, or by her struggles with alcohol and drugs, or even the hundreds of videos of failed concerts on YouTube... When the Winehouse phenomenon exploded with this second album, the sublime Back To Black being far superior to her first record Frank, soul music was going through a slump with hollow, syrupy R&B singers and sanitized productions flooding the scene. Few people tried to develop the path established by Aretha Franklin, Ann Peebles, Nina Simone, Tina Turner, Dinah Washington and Marlena Shaw. But then along came Amy Winehouse, with her incredible timbre, her genuine songs (which she wrote herself, unlike 90% of her peers), her vintage-tinged productions (which were never passé) and brass-filled instrumentation. To top it all off, even her image was distinctive: 50’s beehive, biker tattoos and a cheeky attitude. Back To Black topped the charts for months all over the world, and it's still a real masterpiece of soul music and R&B. When critical opinion meets popular opinion – something relatively rare that’s worth underlining - the enjoyment is only tenfold. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

When Pink Floyd bassist-turned-solo artist Roger Waters announced plans to re-imagine the band's iconic Dark Side Of The Moon, puzzled looks rightly ensued.  He even said to Variety, "We all thought I was mad but the more we considered it, the more we thought 'isn't that the whole point?'" Waters, who wrote much of Dark Side and is no stranger to controversy, has offered that Redux's relation to the original is, "Not to supersede it or to replace it, but to remember it, and as an adjunct to it, and to progress the work of the original concept of the original record and all those original songs."  Opener "Speak to Me" now features spoken text that is actually the lyrics from "Free Four," which appears on Pink Floyd's 1972 album Obscured By Clouds: "The memories of a man in his old age, are the deeds of a man in his prime/ You shuffle in the gloom of the sick room and talk to yourself as you die/ For life is a short, warm moment and death is a long, cold rest." "On The Run" is prefaced with "Today, I awoke from a dream/ It was a revelation, almost Patmosian, whatever that means/ But that's evidently another story/ It began with some standard bullshit fight with evil/ In this case, an apparently all-powerful hooded and cloaked figure," which was something Waters wrote down after waking up from a dream in July, 2021.  A number of talented musicians join Waters, among them: Gus Seyffert on bass, guitar, backing vocals; Joey Waronker on drums; Jonathan Wilson on guitars and synth.  In the case of the original single "Money," once an indictment of capitalism, Waters slows the pace, adds cello accents and a menacing piano part, and switches into a whispery Tom Waits-Leonard Cohen conspiratorial growl. The new lyrics are about a heavyweight boxing match, the devil, and a Faustian deal. One of rock's enduring masterpieces has now become the backdrop for a spoken word piece where Waters imparts the perspective he's gained since the album's original release in 1973. © Robert Baird/Qobuz

Like the Mona Lisa for the Louvre, Keith Jarrett's Köln Concert is a showcase for ECM. With 4 million copies sold, it is not only the biggest success in the label's history but also the best-selling piano solo album! And many of those who bought this live recording, recorded on January 24, 1975 in the Cologne Opera House, did not yet own a jazz album in their record collection. Yet the world phenomenon had the most unfavourable conditions that evening. The American pianist was exhausted from a long car journey, had back pain and found another cheap grand piano on stage instead of the Bösendorfer he had ordered. "I think Keith played so well precisely because of this mediocre piano," said producer Manfred Eicher later. "Because he couldn't fall in love with the sound of this instrument, he adjusted his playing accordingly in order to make the best out of it in spite of everything." But what remains, beyond the anecdotes and records, of what the 1400 listeners heard that evening? Jarrett was 30 years old at the time and had already had a successful career with 15 records and two formative experiences in the bands of Charles Lloyd and especially Miles Davis. By 1975 he had already developed a very personal style of expression. Although Bill Evans' influence is unmistakable, his improvisations were unique, as this Cologne Concert proves. Lyrical and meditative elements are interwoven. Jarrett emphasizes the permeability of the genres by nourishing his jazz (is it jazz at all?) with elements from classical music, gospel, folk or certain Latin American musical styles. Notes gush out of his piano like a torrent and sing an ode to improvisation. In 1992, he told Der Spiegel that over time the Köln Concert had become a kind of film music. "We must learn to forget music," he added. "Otherwise we will become addicted to the past."

Cat Power—Chan Marshall—wanted to mark the moment in 1966 that "informs everything …  this precipice of time that changed music forever": Bob Dylan's "Royal Albert Hall Concert" (actually played at the Manchester Free Trade Hall), the one when he switched from acoustic to electric midway through—prompting an incensed folk purist to yell out "Judas!" Fifty-six years after that concert, Marshall delivered a sublime song-for-song re-creation of the set, at the actual Royal Albert Hall. "I'm not being Bob … I'm just recreating it, that's all. But not making it mine," she has said. Inevitably, though, the songs do become hers. It's evident right away, from "She Belongs to Me" (and shortly after, "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue"), the influence Dylan has long had on Cat Power's music. But with her husky voice, so like Nico's now and far from Dylan's youthful reediness, revealing traces of her Georgia upbringing ("She don't look baaaaack") and contrasting the clean acoustic guitar and shiny harmonica, she owns it. "Desolation Row" is a twelve-and-a-half minute marvel. The guitar is not blindingly bright like Charlie McCoy's flamenco flavor, but that works well with Marshall's more serious/less jaunty air here. Without aping Dylan, she hits his inflections, putting exuberant emphasis on the ends of lines ("And the good Samaritan! He's dressing!"). Her "Visions of Johanna" underscores the prettiness of the melody, while the way she sings the name "Jo-hanna" make it feel so much more exotic than it is. She gets playful with the familiar phrasing on the chorus of "Mr. Tambourine Man" and sings "Just Like a Woman" beautifully, offering a softer, less angular version of Dylan's classic. At 50, she was twice the age of Dylan when he recorded the song for Blonde on Blonde, and you can hear—feel—the extra tread on her heart. When electrified "Tell Me Momma" kicks in like the Wizard of Oz Technicolor moment, it's as thrilling as it's supposed to be, the first word of the titular line bitingly crisp each time. "I Don't Believe You (She Acts Like We Never Have Met)" plays up the soulful grooviness that always feels a little buried on Dylan's live recording, while "Baby, Let Me Follow You Down" expertly captures his wild-eyed edginess. Marshall's "Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues" is more elegant, even with its raw edges, than Dylan's young-man machismo. She does not recreate things down to the between-song patter but there is a moment, just before "Ballad of a Thin Man" (so slinky, so powerful), when someone yells out "Judas!"—and Marshall, serenely, responds, "Jesus." "I wasn't expecting the audience to recreate their part of the original show as well, but then I wanted to set the record straight—in a way, Dylan is a deity to all of us who write songs," she has said. And, as it did in 1966, closer "Like a Rolling Stone" sounds like liberation; maybe even like Marshall knows some part of this is hers now. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

When Daft Punk announced they were releasing a new album eight years after 2005's Human After All, fans were starved for new material. The Tron: Legacy score indulged the duo's sci-fi fantasies but didn't offer much in the way of catchy songs, so when Random Access Memories' extensive publicity campaign featured tantalizing clips of a new single, "Get Lucky," their fan base exploded. But when the album finally arrived, that hugely hyped single was buried far down its track list, emphasizing that most of these songs are very much not like "Get Lucky" -- or a lot of the pair's previous music, at least on the surface. The album isn't much like 2010s EDM, either. Instead, Daft Punk separate themselves from most contemporary electronic music and how it's made, enlisting some of their biggest influences to help them get the sounds they needed without samples. On Homework's "Teachers," they reverently name-checked a massive list of musicians and producers. Here, they place themselves on equal footing with disco masterminds Nile Rodgers and Giorgio Moroder, who shares his thoughts on making music with wild guitar and synth solos trailing behind him on one of RAM's definitive moments, "Giorgio by Moroder." Elsewhere, Daft Punk celebrate their close relationship with indie music on the lovely "Doin' It Right," which makes the most of Panda Bear's boyish vocals, and on the Julian Casablancas cameo "Instant Crush," which is only slightly more electronic than the Strokes' Comedown Machine. And of course, Pharrell Williams is the avatar of their dancefloor mastery on the sweaty disco of "Lose Yourself to Dance" and "Get Lucky," which is so suave that it couldn't help but be an instant classic, albeit a somewhat nostalgic one. "Memories" is the album's keyword: As Daft Punk celebrate the late '70s and early '80s with deluxe homages like "Give Life Back to Music" -- one of several terrific showcases for Rodgers -- and the spot-on soft rock of the Todd Edwards collaboration "Fragments of Time," they tap into the wonder and excitement in that era's music. A particularly brilliant example is "Touch," where singer/songwriter Paul Williams conflates his work in Phantom of the Paradise and The Muppet Movie in the song's mystique, charm, and unabashed emotions. Daft Punk have never shied away from "uncool" influences or sentimentality, and both are on full display throughout Random Access Memories. It's the kind of grand, album rock statement that listeners of the '70s and '80s would have spent weeks or months dissecting and absorbing -- the ambition of Steely Dan, Alan Parsons, and Pink Floyd are as vital to the album as any of the duo's collaborators. For the casual Daft Punk fan, this album might be harder to love than "Get Lucky" hinted; it might be too nostalgic, too overblown, a shirking of the group's duty to rescue dance music from the Young Turks who cropped up in their absence. But Random Access Memories is also Daft Punk's most personal work, and richly rewarding for listeners willing to spend time with it.© Heather Phares /TiVo

Supertramp came into their own on their third album, 1974's Crime of the Century, as their lineup gelled but, more importantly, so did their sound. The group still betrayed a heavy Pink Floyd influence, particularly in its expansive art rock arrangements graced by saxophones, but Supertramp isn't nearly as spooky as Floyd -- they're snarky collegiate elitists, an art rock variation on Steely Dan or perhaps a less difficult 10cc, filled with cutting jokes and allusions, best heard on "Bloody Well Right." This streak would later flourish on Breakfast in America, but it's present enough to give them their own character. Also present is a slight sentimental streak and a heavy fondness for pop, heard on "Dreamer," a soaring piece of art pop that became their first big hit. That and "Bloody Well Right" are the concise pop moments on the record; the rest of Crime of the Century is atmospheric like Dark Side of the Moon, but with a lighter feel and a Beatles bent. At times the album floats off into its own world, with an effect more tedious than hypnotic, but it's still a huge leap forward for the group and their most consistent album outside of that 1979 masterwork, Breakfast in America.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

All tracks are in 24/88.2 excepted the track 4 from disc 2 "Infiniting Repeating (2013 demo)" which is in 24/44.1.Two years after Daft Punk's split in February 2021, comes a reissue of their decade-old final album Random Access Memories in a deluxe version with a nine-track disc bringing together studio outtakes, demos and unreleased tracks. Included are "Horizon" (a ballad released only in the Japanese version at the time), two minutes of vocoder testing by Pharrell Williams for "Lose Yourself to Dance," and two unreleased tracks: "Prime (2012 Unfinished)," which didn't make it to original release, and the soulful "Infinity Repeating (2013 Demo)" featuring Julian Casablancas and The Voidz. (Casablancas would end up on RAM with "Instant Crush.") There's also the delightful "The Writing of Fragments of Time," an eight-minute behind-the-scenes track which puts us in the studio with Daft Punk and producer Todd Edwards as they discuss this "beach road" song, and create it all at once. Thirty-five minutes of bonus material ends with "Touch (2021 Epilogue)," the track composed with their idol Paul Williams, and chosen as the soundtrack for the band's farewell video in 2021. This is a deluxe version that is well worth chasing after. © Smaël Bouaici/Qobuz

Sixty years after the release of Miles Davis' masterpiece, explanations for its everlasting allure and mysterious beauty remain elusive. Over the years—in books, magazines and documentary films—a parade of Miles' contemporaries have struggled to explain this 1959 album, often cited as the best-selling jazz album in history. Recorded in long, whole takes over only two sessions 51 days apart, at Columbia Records' famed 30th Street Studios, Kind of Blue is a landmark in the evolution of jazz as the first modal classic—where the improvising is based on scales rather than the dense clusters of chord changes that powered bebop. This stylish, beloved cornerstone of any jazz collection, with its relaxed tempi, rich colors and sleek silences, also possesses a timeless simplicity that continues to sound familiar and inviting. Captured in great depth and detail by engineer Fred Plaut, brooding opener "So What," upbeat, merry "Freddie Freeloader," Bill Evans' dreamy "Blue In Green," the 6/8 double waltz "All Blues," (an aural sketch of weaving through city traffic), and the album's most purely modal number and closer "Flamenco Sketches," have all endured to become the most atmospheric, resonant and ultimately sexiest single set of recorded tunes in jazz history. Much of its undiminished magnetism comes from Miles' innate genius in building potent chemistry between musicians of contrasting styles. From the leader's icy tone to John Coltrane's muscular cascade of tenor saxophone notes, through Cannonball Adderley's soulful alto sax exuberance and pianist Bill Evans' spacious, incisive contributions, this collision of musical opposites, all driven by the underrated bassist Paul Chambers and steady drummer Jimmy Cobb, creates a mood and defines the jazz ethos of "cool" from the first dark notes of the famous opening bass line. According to Evans' original liner notes, Davis came up with these five explorations the night before the first recording session. It’s proof yet again that spontaneity and serendipity are the soul of jazz, or what Evans accurately summed up here as "collective coherent thinking" where the "direct deed is the most meaningful reflection." © Robert Baird/Qobuz

January is barely ending, and here we already have one of the finest albums of 2024. The triumvirate formed by the two geniuses of Radiohead, Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood, and Sons Of Kemet's drummer, Tom Skinner, under the banner of The Smile, wastes no time. Exactly one year after their surprise revelation on the Glastonbury livestream (thanks to the pandemic) in 2021, the trio released their first full-length album, A Light For Attracting Attention. With it, the complex and fascinating universe of the Oxford quintet is finally revisited—minus Colin Greenwood, Ed O’Brien, and Phil Selway—while gaining grandeur through the strings of the London Contemporary Orchestra, already at work in 2016 on Radiohead's A Moon Shaped Pool, as well as the most prominent brass and winds from the London jazz scene (including Chelsea Charmichael and Robert Stillman).More compact, Wall Of Eyes lets warmth in. Opening the way with only seven other tracks, the title track teleports us to the tropics with its bossa acoustic guitar and Yorke's reverberating vocals. The smooth synths of a nearly R&B "Teleharmonic" follow, leading to the riffs of "Read The Room" and "Under The Pillows," creating a trippy rock passage. We then enter the dreamy piano ballad "Friend Of A Friend" and almost drown in the synthetic layers of "I Quit" before the deluge of distortions in the eight-minute "Bendic Hectic" explodes after an anxiety-inducing violin ascent. "You Know Me!" draws the curtain with the gentle piano, providing a final that's as cinematic as ever. Recorded at the legendary Abbey Road studios, with Sam Petts-Davies taking the place of the faithful producer Nigel Godrich, this second album showcases a trio in full alchemy, increasingly inspired by Can rather than the Beatles, and completely seasoned by their live shows. A masterpiece. © Charlotte Saintoin/Qobuz

The classic Marley album, the one that any fair-weather reggae fan owns, Legend contains 14 of his greatest songs, running the gamut from "I Shot the Sheriff" to the meditative "Redemption Song" and the irrepressible "Three Little Birds." Some may argue that the compilation shortchanges his groundbreaking early ska work or his status as a political commentator, but this isn't meant to be definitive, it's meant to be an introduction, sampling the very best of his work. And it does that remarkably well, offering all of his genre-defying greats and an illustration of his excellence, warmth, and humanity. In a way, it is perfect since it gives a doubter or casual fan anything they could want. Let's face it, the beauty and simplicity of Marley's music was as important as his message, and that's captured particularly well here.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Few are the career artists who can create music over the long haul that continually sounds fresh and contemporary without seeming faddish or desperate. Across eight solo studio albums, Norah Jones has effortlessly embraced the here-and-now, followed her muse and allowed her assured sense of self to carry her forward without any embarrassing missteps. Jones wanted to explore darkness on 2020's Pick Me Off the Floor, her most recent studio album, so she flipped the switch. Two years later she swerved to record Playing Along, an oft-buoyant album of duets with artists including Mavis Staples, Valerie June and Jeff Tweedy. It succeeded on its own terms. For Visions, Jones wanted to write with a single collaborator, Leon Michels, to make a mid-tempo record with session players and solo artists who've recorded with Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings, Brazilian Girls, Joni Mitchell and others. So she invited him into the studio, shut the door and made Visions.Billed by Jones' label as a more carefree, upbeat record, Visions sets a mood across twelve soulful, wood-paneled originals. Despite mentions of dance or dancing in a few songs, it's often bliss driven by solitude that's suggested. The happy-go-lucky "On My Way" floats across its measures, a joyful ode to moving forward not with a partner or lover, but alone, where the notion that "no one cares what you have to say" lives in the same space as "in the dark you can dance and sway." That many of the ideas for Visions, as Jones has said, "came in the middle of the night or in that moment right before sleep," it makes sense that she's focused on solitude, and that she's embracing it."Everyday we do God's little dance," she sings on "Staring at the Wall," an uptempo groover with a twangy, Sun Records-suggestive guitar line and a piano-propelled counter melody that, combined with sturdy snare-drum snaps, could power a Saturday night dance floor at a dive bar. "Running" gets energy from a piano melody, a reverbed drum pattern and a layered chorus of Jones' voice adding responses. "Swept Up in the Night" is a ballad of longing set after midnight. Lost in a dream, Jones can't shake her memories of a certain someone: "I find you a thousand times/ Underneath the stones in my mind." These are sturdy songs, the kind that not only linger in the psyche, but are so well crafted as to be indestructible. © Randall Roberts/Qobuz