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

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

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

Complete recordings of great works such as Bach’s sonatas, his “Well-Tempered Clavier,” or Chopin’s “24 Preludes” occupy a unique place within the history of musical recording. It’s in their entirety that they are most unique and powerful, whereas in the purity of their repertoire, individual pieces are generally regarded as being largely heterogeneous. These timeless compositions transcend their authors and are given new life with each interpretation, and such is the case with Bach’s “Goldberg Variations.” Published in 1741, as the fourth and last part of his Clavier-Übung, the “Goldberg Variations” still remain, almost 300 years later, amongst the baroque master’s most important works, not only for the history of musical composition and recording in general (Glenn Gould, Trevor Pinnock, Rosalyn Tureck, and many others come to mind), but also for Víkingur Ólafsson in particular. “I’ve been dreaming of recording this work for 25 years,” says the Icelandic pianist, thus confirming that these studies are more a life’s work than a whim.Beginning with a melody that’s simple in appearance, the work is spread over a total of 30 variations, becoming a masterpiece of complexity. Determined, at surface level, by a rigid formal framework, the material itself nevertheless demands a “sort of interpretive improvisation”. Ólafsson recognises this paradox and makes it his own not by interpreting the different variations with technical precision and a strict loyalty to the metronome, but rather by following cyclical impulses and organic interpretation. At the same time, he evolves with the work and transcends it, whether in the creativity of the fugues or the complexity of the different canons, which influence one another, rely on one another, and, finally, like a parabola, return to the first melody and the beginning of all that had transpired previously -  like the ebb and flow of the Icelandic ocean, whose waves we know will always return to shore, but whose calm or strength we can never be sure of. © Lena Germann/Qobuz

It’s almost as if Yuja Wang were playing at home in her second collaboration with the Los Angeles Philharmonic and the conductor Gustavo Dudamel. The music of Rachmaninov has no secrets left for the Chinese piano virtuoso, who strolls happily along these formidably difficult concertos. It’s the “Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor, Op. 18”, the most iconic, that leads. Composed in 1901, at the time when Rachmaninov was just beginning to recover from the depression caused by the failure of his first symphony, this concerto became one of the centrepieces of the Russian composer’s work, when it was notoriously sampled in the legendary pop hit “All by myself”. Yuja Wang moves with alarming ease along a score rife with traps, starting with the tenth intervals that are every pianist’s worst nightmare. Wang offers a sublime variety in her playing, marvellously befitting of the very distinct moods of the three movements: raging and bold attacks in the “moderato”, languid legatos in the “adagio sostenuto”, and finishing with a triumphant and luminous “allegro scherzando”. “Concertos No. 1” and “No.4” are served with the same mastery, and the album closes with a “Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini” where the orchestra proves to be of tremendous precision. An impeccable record. © Pierre Lamy/Qobuz

My Neighbour Totoro, Princess Mononoke, Spirited Away - people wonder at the magic of Studio Ghibli films far beyond their native Japan, within which the director Hayao Miyazaki recounts his stories in anime guise. But what would these films be without their soundtracks? Just like with Steven Spielberg and John Williams, Miyazaki has forged a unique artistic bond with the Japanese composer Joe Hisaishi that has lasted almost 40 years, with the latter’s compositions being instrumental in the films’ successes. Now we can discover his greatest Studio Ghibli hits re-recorded with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra - a first-class Deutsche Grammophon debut.In 1983, the two artists made their first collaboration for the anime film Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, for which Hisaishi would create “image music” (i.e. music that reflects the character and characters of the film or series). Miyazaki was so convinced by the music that, since the founding of Studio Ghibli in 1985, he was to underscore each of his films with Hisaishi’s compositions - to our eternal good fortune, because the pieces such as the waltz "Merry-Go-Round of Life" (from Howl’s Moving Castle), "A Town with an Ocean View" (from Kiki’s Delivery Service) or the touching "One Summer’s Day (The Name of Life)" (from Spirited Away) enchant the images as they appear on the big screen with very special magic. With a total of 29 tracks from 10 films, Hisaishi presents A Symphonic Celebration, with the crème de la crème of his Studio Ghibli works in all their diversity - as composer, conductor and pianist - newly arranged for the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. In fact, this is the first time that the film music of Princess Mononoke and Porco Rosso has been recorded with a professional world orchestra. During an interview, Hisashi tells us himself:“We recorded the project last year in a church with a huge choir and orchestra, and that was really great. The orchestras in Europe somehow have a longer, fuller sound. Of course, the musicians in Japan are also highly professional, but in Vienna or London the feeling for the music is a bit different again.”Whether it’s in Japan, Europe or America - with A Symphonic Celebration we can now enjoy Hisaishi’s wonderful and unique film music all over the world, and immerse ourselves fully in the fabulous stories of Miyazaki’s anime characters. © Lena Germann/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

The first masterpiece of what was only termed trip-hop much later, Blue Lines filtered American hip-hop through the lens of British club culture, a stylish, nocturnal sense of scene that encompassed music from rare groove to dub to dance. The album balances dark, diva-led club jams along the lines of Soul II Soul with some of the best British rap (vocals and production) heard up to that point, occasionally on the same track. The opener "Safe from Harm" is the best example, with diva vocalist Shara Nelson trading off lines with the group's own monotone (yet effective) rapping. Even more than hip-hop or dance, however, dub is the big touchstone on Blue Lines. Most of the productions aren't quite as earthy as you'd expect, but the influence is palpable in the atmospherics of the songs, like the faraway electric piano on "One Love" (with beautiful vocals from the near-legendary Horace Andy). One track, "Five Man Army," makes the dub inspiration explicit, with a clattering percussion line, moderate reverb on the guitar and drums, and Andy's exquisite falsetto flitting over the chorus. Blue Lines isn't all darkness, either -- "Be Thankful for What You've Got" is quite close to the smooth soul tune conjured by its title, and "Unfinished Sympathy" -- the group's first classic production -- is a tremendously moving fusion of up-tempo hip-hop and dancefloor jam with slow-moving, syrupy strings. Flaunting both their range and their tremendously evocative productions, Massive Attack recorded one of the best dance albums of all time. © John Bush /TiVo

Composed between 1742 and 1744, the Württemberg Sonatas, named after their dedicatee, provide a link between late Baroque and Empfindsamkeit (in German: sensitivity, feeling). This artistic movement precedes the so-called classical period and is characterised for prioritising contrasting moods in its tempos, melodies, and timbral variations. Significantly influenced by the legacy of Bach Senior, for whom Carl Philipp Emmanuel had boundless admiration, these sonatas showcase an elegant inflection in the work of C.P.E Bach felt due to his desire to bring together the emotional expressiveness and mathematical rigour of counterpoint writing. This duality is particularly noticeable between the different movements, as evidenced by Sonata No. 1 in A minor H.30, and the first two movements, Moderato and Andante, which are ample and fluid. These succeed an Allegra assai with a much squarer musical meter.ECM gifts us an invaluable sonata in his previously unreleased version, recorded by the great Keith Jarrett at Studio Cavelight (New Jersey) in May 1994. Knowing that the American pianist was forced into early retirement by two strokes in 2018, any new release leaves us with a somewhat heartbreaking bittersweet taste. Just like this album, where elegiac and triumphant styles come together as one. Far from bounding and elastic sonorities that are the inimitable trademark of the Köln Concert father, this production, with its spotless sound recording, offers listeners all the joys of a piano with incredible musical roundness. Jarrett's touch is striking; with his subtle understanding of harmonious interplay, his composition really touches the heart. We already knew about Jarrett's biting, unpredictable, and rebellious phrasing. This record proves to be just as brilliant in sobriety and economy and is stunningly beautiful. © Pierre Lamy/Qobuz

Rhiannon Giddens' latest is a surprise and a delight—a mix of the mountain music we've come to expect from the Grammy winner but also a slew of solid gold soul. That new persona suits her very, very well, as Giddens turns into a funk diva for sassy opener "Too Little, Too Late, Too Bad"—a kiss-off to an ex trying to get back in. Bolstered by big, bright horns, shoop-shoop backing vocals and a feisty beat, Giddens growls her warning at "just an old dog with old tricks." Stirring, bass-throbbing "Wrong Kind of Right" picks up where Amy Winehouse tragically left off. And "You're the One" is a fascinating combo: Blending strutting soul and solid beats from producer Jack Splash, with Giddens' delicate banjo. The song breaks wide open at the chorus, then turns folky. Giddens isn't the only one having fun. Duet partner Jason Isbell positively cuts loose on "Yet to Be," a rootsy, Janis Joplin-style blues number that finds the two super-strong voices and personalities trading verses and weaving a rollicking harmony. The beats and horns turn ominous on "Another Wasted Life," a chronicle of brutality within America's justice and prison systems. "Doesn't matter what the crime/ If indeed there was the time/ He's given solitary time ... It's a torture of the soul/ The narrow confines of control/ Thrown down the stinking hole/ With no hope of release," Giddens sings. But she finds release, if not relief, chanting the title line of the chorus—setting off for a different stratosphere where she drags out the vocalizations. The second half of the record is more traditional, but in no way average or predictable. Giddens gets into mountain mischief on "You Louisiana Man," with trembling accordion from Dirk Powell, and sweetly lays down the law on "If You Don't Know How Sweet It Is," kicking back against a partner whining about tough steak, loud kids and unfolded laundry: "You're good, but I'll find better/ And it'll be without your bitching/ If you don't know how sweet it is/ Get on outta my kitchen!" "Hen in the Foxhouse" is sultry and playful, with a wild rhythm. Jazzy "You Put the Sugar in My Bowl" is old-timey flirtatious, and Giddens goes full Ella on the dreamy "Who Are You Dreaming Off," with its cymbal brushwork like an audio time portal. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Among the major tenor saxophonists of the last 75 years, Charles Lloyd has always stood apart. Most of his peers were based in New York but Lloyd, a Memphis native, often worked out of the West Coast.  He frequently collaborated with rock musicians in the 1960s and 1970s, including the Beach Boys, the Doors, Roger McGuinn, and others; at the time, it was uncommon for an important jazz figure to have such close ties to the rock scene.  Those associations reveal an artist open to new sounds as he follows his own path.Decades later, the octogenarian continues to be a singular force, and on the excellent 2024 release, The Sky Will Still Be There Tomorrow, he leads a stellar new band: pianist Jason Moran, bassist Larry Grenadier, and drummer Brian Blade. Lloyd revisits older material with fresh ears, and the double album also includes six new compositions along with versions of the spiritual, "Balm in Gilead," and J. Rosamond Johnson and James Weldon Johnson's hymn, "Lift Every Voice and Sing."On the opener, "Defiant, Tender Warrior," which features an arrangement by Lloyd and Moran, Blade deftly deploys rumble, clatter, and hiss to create a foundation and an enveloping atmosphere. Lloyd's fluttering high notes, just-so breathiness, and speedy note-flurries sensitively play off Moran's take on the piece's tender melody.  Lloyd's sole alto sax performance occurs on the title cut, one of the album's new pieces. At first, the track sounds like a loosened-up version of bebop, but soon Moran's dissonant piano changes the vibe. A groove that recalls Keith Jarrett (a former Lloyd sideman), emerges, and a spare, bluesy section follows. Wherever the music goes, the engaged quartet brings it to full flower. On "Beyond Darkness," Lloyd displays a warm, nicely shaded tone on alto flute. Blade's rolls and cymbal hits, Grenadier's groove, and Moran's impressionistic lines create a gentle pelagic ambience for Lloyd's lyrical explorations. Beyond darkness, indeed, this is wonderfully blissed-out music."Defiant, Reprise; Homeward Dove" looks back to the opener. The two tracks perfectly bracket an album that gracefully takes the listener on a journey with Lloyd and his sensitively attuned band. As the last notes sound, there is a sense of a cycle completed.  © Fred Cisterna/Qobuz

What does a shrug sound like? On "Don't Know Why,” the opening track of her debut effort, Norah Jones suggests a few possibilities. The first time she sings the title phrase, she gives it a touch of indifference, the classic tossed-off movie-star shrug. Her tone shifts slightly when she hits the chorus, to convey twinges of sadness; here the casual phrasing could be an attempt to shake off a sharp memory. Later, she shrugs in a way that conveys resignation, possibly regret—she's replaying a scene, trying to understand what happened. Those shrugs and shadings, tools deployed by every jazz vocalist of the 1950s, are inescapable throughout Come Away With Me—in part because everything surrounding Jones' voice is so chill. There's room for her to emote, and room for gently cresting piano and organ chords. Unlike so many of her contemporaries, Jones knows instinctively how much (or how little!) singer the song needs. The secret of this record, which came out when Jones was 22, is its almost defiant approachability: It is calm, and open, and gentle, music for a lazy afternoon in a porch swing. As transfixing covers of Hank Williams' "Cold Cold Heart” and Hoagy Carmichael's "The Nearness of You” make clear, Jones thinks about contours and shadows when she sings; her storytelling depends as much on the scene and the atmosphere as the narrative. And Jones applies the same understatement to the original songs here, which weave together elements of country, pop, jazz and torch balladry in inventive ways. It's one thing to render an old tune with modern cleverness, a skill Jones had honed as a solo pianist/singer before she was discovered. It's quite another to transform an original tune, like Jesse Harris' "Don't Know Why,” into something that sounds ageless and eternal, like a standard. Jones does that, over and over, using just shrugs and implications, rarely raising her voice much above a whisper. © Tom Moon/Qobuz

A spellbinding fadeout for the band, climaxing with their legendary rooftop concert.© Bruce Eder /TiVo

Trumpeter Ambrose Akinmusire, guitarist Bill Frisell, and drummer Herlin Riley keep things stripped to their essence on Owl Song. And like the title's avian creature, these topnotch musicians clearly have sensitive hearing. The result is attuned, attentively crafted music that wastes no notes as it conveys emotional heft.At times, Akinmusire's compositions have the directness of folk or pop shaped by refined improvisation. Akinmusire often sticks to simple lines and employs repetition to an unusual degree. Frisell wrings gorgeous tones from his instrument without the use of a lot of fancy effects. And Riley's excellent drumming could almost be described as modest. (He does, however, bust out on "Mr. Riley," an exciting duet with Akinmusire.) On "Owl Song 1," plaintive trumpet and guitar state the piece's extended melody over brushed snare and soft bass drum accents. The players' interaction is intimate, interconnected. Certain moments can catch the listener off guard: a tiny change in inflection or timbre can highlight an affecting shift. Frisell's cycling chord pattern and Riley's tambourine and hand drum are present throughout "Weighted Corners." Akinmusire intones lovely shapes, but more intriguingly, his performance is an example of his use of repetition. It's surprising to hear a trumpet repeat a figure again and again; it lends a pushing-the-envelope edge to the hushed setting.   "Henya," which has a psychedelic-like vibe, unfolds at an unrushed pace. Riley's free-time drumming, more active than elsewhere, shines. Clattering hits and effective cymbal splashes create a charged backdrop for long-held trumpet tones and searching guitar. During a key stretch late in the track, the chord progression comes to the fore, displaying the subtle emotional poignancy that marks this reflective album.  © Fred Cisterna/Qobuz

At the turn of the 21st century, as nu-metal neared its peak in mainstream popularity, the next generation of bands began to emerge, influenced by that scene's unhinged anger, pummeling metallic riffs, and hip-hop flourish. Of those groups, Californian crew Linkin Park rose to the top of the pack with their boundary-busting approach to the genre, which they debuted on their first effort, Hybrid Theory. Released in late 2000, the album took the basics of rap-metal fusion, discarded the lug-headed posturing and cartoonish profanity, and expanded its scope to include atmospheric electronics, a pop-savvy attention to hooks, and confessional lyrics that balanced angst with vulnerability. Anchored by the effortless interplay between throat-shredding vocalist Chester Bennington and emcee Mike Shinoda, the sextet also featured the talents of guitarist Brad Delson, bassist Dave "Phoenix" Farrell, drummer Rob Bourdon, and programmer/DJ Joe Hahn, the behind-the-scenes wizard on the turntables (who has his own moment to shine on "Cure for the Itch"). Together, they crafted a taut set of deviously catchy and relatable anthems that quickly connected them to a legion of fans who craved more emotional depth in their heavy music. On breakthrough single "One Step Closer," a seething Bennington showcased his wide range -- which whips from a pained whisper to a feral roar -- as Hahn wildly scratched and scrubbed on the turntables, mimicking the turmoil and angst in Bennington's lyrics. "By Myself" and "A Place for My Head" operate on a similar level, unleashing Bennington's bloody shrieks upon Shinoda's aggressive rhymes and a band united as a fine-tuned melodic unit. Later, on "Points of Authority," atop Hahn's explosive effects, Bennington's rage hits another peak, confronting the one who sexually abused him as a child. Such heavy lyrical content forms the core of Hybrid Theory, creating a cathartic outlet for those who can relate to struggling with addiction (the Grammy-winning "Crawling"), paranoia ("Papercut"), failed relationships ("Pushing Me Away," "In the End"), and much more. The combination of emotional bloodletting and gifted songwriting resonated with the public, and Hybrid Theory was soon an international, diamond-certified smash, catapulting Linkin Park to worldwide fame. However, before becoming one of the most beloved bands of the 2000s and 2010s, they were a group of hungry unknowns who sought to try something new with their hybrid approach to genre and human emotion.© Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo

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