We can’t say we didn’t know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Boulevard. Just as we can’t dispute that Lana Del Rey has become (or has always been, for those who had already figured this out) an essential figure in American music. With this ninth album with such a long title, Lana Del Rey remains in her Californian Ophelia character, floating tragically and romantically on the surface of a Hollywood pool. Her songs are slow and rather long, often devoid of choruses or pop gimmicks. Her sensual yet detached vocals are enhanced by minimalist arrangements with most of the songs having a few piano notes and even a few strings. Melancholy is a solitary pleasure, a way of living or at least not dying, in which Lana Del Rey is an expert. It seems that since 2021, and the Chemtrails Over the Country Club album, the singer has had long COVID. Although this languishing vibe is something that has been present in her music for much longer. On the surface there’s lethargy and introspection, even monotony because of the album’s 16-track length, but there’s no disappointment to be found here. It’s a record that you can listen to in private, ideally without disturbance. It leads you down a tunnel which, under the surface, is full of twists and turns, grey areas, echoes and suggestions. The signature track is A&W, which begins as a simple folk ballad and shifts into the realms of experimental hip-hop in the middle. When she lends herself to contemporary pop infused with hip-hop, Lana Del Rey has the good sense not to abuse her craft, to steer her voice clear of autotune. She is a singer whose name belongs among the greats (in no particular order: Kate Bush, Fiona Apple, Carole King, Laura Nyro, Agnes Obel, Joni Mitchell etc.) but who digs tunnels to escape – or hide. © Stéphane Deschamps/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

Dream Box is Pat Metheny's third date for BMG's Modern Recordings, a set of nine solo tunes for electric guitar, drawn from a folder on his laptop's hard drive. Metheny often records new ideas, covers, or standards by playing them once. During 160 days of touring in 2022, he had ample time to survey the folder's contents. He was surprised when the music he had little memory of recording revealed these "moments in time" as an organic whole. Further, all but one original had compositional roots in the method utilized on "Unity Village" on 1976's Bright Size Life -- an initial harmonic scheme buoyed by a second offering melodic and improvisational sequences. This program contains six original compositions, two standards, and a cover. Longtime fans will find little save for guitar tone in common with earlier solo records such as 1979's New Chautauqua or 2011's What's It All About. It does bear aesthetic and emotional relation to 2004's One Quiet Night, a set of ballads recorded at home solo on an acoustic baritone guitar.One of Metheny's aesthetic signatures is an often euphoric character in his composing and playing. While that's absent here, emotion, vulnerability, and poignancy aren't. The sparse chords and melodic line that introduce opener "The Waves Are Not the Ocean" are gently presented to the listener without adornment save for the dictates of its lyric harmony. The spaces between whispered chord voicings carry the listener's heart alongside. "From the Mountains" seemingly underscores that flavor with a slightly darker yet more majestic Latin-tinged melody. "Trust Your Angels" is lilting, tender, and expository in its impressionistic use of the blues, à la mentors Jim Hall and Charlie Haden. The first four originals are followed by two elegantly wrought covers. The first is a harmonically and rhythmically re-envisioned reading of Russell Vernon Longstreth's (aka Russ Long) obscure yacht rock classic "Never Was Love." Metheny's version strips away the sheen of pop artifice, revealing the sophisticated nature of its intricate blue melody. Sammy Cahn's "I Fall in Love Too Easily" is rendered with a similar approach to the one pianist Bill Evans articulated on 1962's Moon Beams. Metheny's gentle use of reverb adds an additional multi-phonic voice as he hovers between single string melody, chord changes, and the mysterious innovative shapes he employs as bridges between. The other standard is Luiz Bonfa's "Morning of the Carnival" ("Manha de Carnival"). Unlike the many jazz versions out there, Metheny's realization closely adheres to Bonfa's save for a subtle meld of samba and cumbia rhythms. When Metheny states the melody, he offers contrasting melodic voices on top, culminating in a warm, pointed solo. Set closer "Clouds Can't Change the Sky" is another listener-enveloping ballad composed in sections. Its lyric statement is followed first by abstraction in tone, texture, and tempo before establishing a second melody from that investigation, resolving them both. The electric guitar ballads on Dream Box offer unvarnished introspection, uncanny musical vision, and gorgeous technique.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

Neil Young continues to exploit his massive catalog of original songs in innovative ways. On his 45th studio album, he revisits 12 songs—mixed as a single track—that stretch as far back as his days with Buffalo Springfield. Young is clear about Before and After's intentions: "Songs from my life recently recorded create a music montage with no beginnings or endings. The feeling is captured, not in pieces but as a whole piece … music defies shuffling, digital organization, separation. Only for listening."  The constant subject throughout is the life affirming powers of having and giving love. With few exceptions the critical segues between tracks are seamless and unobtrusive; opener "I'm the Ocean," a classic Young chord progression that was originally on Mirror Ball, easily blends into "Homefires"—first released on Neil Young Archives Volume II 1972-1976. Young is the entire band on this single track, taken from a 96 kHz/24-bit digital source. (Perhaps as an inside joke, Wilco's Jeff Tweedy is listed in the credits as being an "Electric guitar & Amplifier tech.") He switches from acoustic guitar, harmonica and piano to pump organ occasionally, as he does in the transition between "On the Way Home" to "If You Got Love," an unreleased track from the 1983 Trans sessions. With Young's voice as a constant, there is an undeniable sameness to this continuous design. Except for "Comes a Time," he avoids the hits and concentrates on songs that he's felt were unjustly neglected in the past, or that he's found new meaning in today. That's audibly true in a new version of "When I Hold You in My Arms," his paean to life's inevitable changes. Originally on Are You Passionate?, there's now a renewed certainly as Young brings new fervor to familiar lines:  "Old heart's going up/ Old heart's coming down/ My feelings going up/ My feelings coming down/ You gotta hold onto someone in this life."  © Robert Baird/Qobuz

461 Ocean Boulevard is Eric Clapton's second studio solo album, arriving after his side project of Derek and the Dominos and a long struggle with heroin addiction. Although there are some new reggae influences, the album doesn't sound all that different from the rock, pop, blues, country, and R&B amalgam of Eric Clapton. However, 461 Ocean Boulevard is a tighter, more focused outing that enables Clapton to stretch out instrumentally. Furthermore, the pop concessions on the album -- the sleek production, the concise running times -- don't detract from the rootsy origins of the material, whether it's Johnny Otis' "Willie and the Hand Jive," the traditional blues "Motherless Children," Bob Marley's "I Shot the Sheriff," or Clapton's emotional original "Let It Grow." With its relaxed, friendly atmosphere and strong bluesy roots, 461 Ocean Boulevard set the template for Clapton's '70s albums. Though he tried hard to make an album exactly like it, he never quite managed to replicate its charms.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Perhaps Tom Waits' most cohesive album, Bone Machine is a morbid, sinister nightmare, one that applied the quirks of his experimental '80s classics to stunningly evocative -- and often harrowing -- effect. In keeping with the title's grotesque image of the human body, Bone Machine is obsessed with decay and mortality, the ease with which earthly existence can be destroyed. The arrangements are accordingly stripped of all excess flesh; the very few, often non-traditional instruments float in distinct separation over the clanking junkyard percussion that dominates the record. It's a chilling, primal sound made all the more otherworldly (or, perhaps, underworldly) by Waits' raspy falsetto and often-distorted roars and growls. Matching that evocative power is Waits' songwriting, which is arguably the most consistently focused it's ever been. Rich in strange and extraordinarily vivid imagery, many of Waits' tales and musings are spun against an imposing backdrop of apocalyptic natural fury, underlining the insignificance of his subjects and their universally impending doom. Death is seen as freedom for the spirit, an escape from the dread and suffering of life in this world -- which he paints as hellishly bleak, full of murder, suicide, and corruption. The chugging, oddly bouncy beats of the more uptempo numbers make them even more disturbing -- there's a detached nonchalance beneath the horrific visions. Even the narrator of the catchy, playful "I Don't Wanna Grow Up" seems hopeless in this context, but that song paves the way for the closer "That Feel," an ode to the endurance of the human soul (with ultimate survivor Keith Richards on harmony vocals). The more upbeat ending hardly dispels the cloud of doom hanging over the rest of Bone Machine, but it does give the listener a gentler escape from that terrifying sonic world. All of it adds up to Waits' most affecting and powerful recording, even if it isn't his most accessible.© Steve Huey /TiVo

Another fine Webster release on Verve that sees the tenor great once again backed by the deluxe Oscar Peterson Trio. In keeping with the high standard of their Soulville collaboration of two years prior, Webster and the trio -- Peterson is joined by bassist Ray Brown and drummer Ed Thigpen -- use this 1959 date to conduct a clinic in ballad playing. And while Soulville certainly ranks as one of the tenor saxophonist's best discs, the Ben Webster Meets Oscar Peterson set gets even higher marks for its almost transcendent marriage of after-hours elegance and effortless mid-tempo swing -- none of Webster's boogie-woogie piano work to break up the mood here. Besides reinvigorating such lithe strollers as "Bye Bye Blackbird" (nice bass work by Brown here) and "This Can't Be Love," Webster and company achieve classic status for their interpretation of the Sinatra gem "In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning." And to reassure Peterson fans worried about scant solo time for their hero, the pianist lays down a healthy number of extended runs, unobtrusively shadowing Webster's vaporous tone and supple phrasing along the way. Not only a definite first-disc choice for Webster newcomers, but one of the jazz legend's all-time great records.© Stephen Cook /TiVo

In re-writing the first line of “Something” by George Harrison, Julia Holter found the title for her sixth album. The American devoured the documentary Get Back, which follows the Beatles in the preparation of their final concert, fascinated by their collective rivalry. Although she may dream of collaborations, the songwriter remains a lone ranger. Since becoming a mother after Aviary (2018), she paints more fluid landscapes where the body predominates. It also appears on the album cover, illustrated by Cristina Quarles. “There’s a corporeal focus, inspired by the complexity and transformability of our bodies,” she explains. It’s undoubtedly for this reason that her voice, unburdened by affect or melancholy, is so very present.In order to inform her approach of fluidity, the multi-instrumentalist claims to have been inspired by Miyaki’s animated film Ponyo, in which a little fish girl wants to become human. Less partial to overly-complex sonoric layering this time around, she has created more pared-down textures which lie somewhere between minimalism, avant-gardism, and chamber pop, where clutter quickly makes way for silence. From melodic exploration (“Something in the Room She Moves”) to the search for refinement with “Meyou,” a vocal piece made up of glissandos which calls upon her love for Renaissance polyphony, from the muted, dreamlike brass instruments on “These Morning,” to the ambient layers of “Ocean,” from the luxuriant instrumentation of “Sun Girl” or “Spinning,” to the jazz dissonances and delays of “Talking to the Whisper,” all is in perpetual movement. "Something in the Room She Moves” adds yet another gem to the impeccable discography of the elusive genius that is Julia Holter. © Charlotte Saintoin/Qobuz

On the 13th of March 2017, Tommy LiPuma died at the age of 80. The Grammy-adorned producer had, one year prior, began work on a new album for his protege Diana Krall. The Canadian singer was therefore left to mix the record entirely alone... The calibre of musician on this record is impressive: guitarists Russell Malone and Anthony Wilson, bassists John Clayton and Christian McBride, drummer Karriem Riggins and Bob Dylan’s bassist, Tony Garnier, all come along to finish off the recording of This Dream of You. A great fan of Dylan, Krall used a song name from his 2009 album Together Through Life as the title of this 15th album released by Verve. Whether in duet, trio or quartet, Madame Costello plays and sings in diverse contexts but ultimately returns to her preferred repertoire: the Great American Songbook. The standards that have come to be expected a thousand times over are met as if by magic. Autumn in New York by Vernon Duke, How Deep is the Ocean by Irving Berlin and the unmistakeable Singing in the Rain by Gene Kelley as well as other classics from giants like Sinatra and Nat King Cole become her own. A whisper, a murmur, a refined arrangement, an instrumental treasure, Diana Krall prevails time after time. One could fault her for not daring to reimagine the songs more, but when the standard of these renditions is so high and of such depth, we can do nothing but yield and wonder. Also note that for the first time Diana Krall’s face doesn’t appear on the album cover! © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

Jean-Philippe Rameau, Charles-Valentin Alkan, Maurice Ravel: three centuries of French music meet face-to-face to pass the baton in this record that is so admirably interpreted by the young Bruce Liu. For his first studio album Waves (Deutsche Grammophon), the Chinese pianist and winner of the 2021 Chopin Piano Competition at 24 years old, undertakes the delicate mission of constructing and presenting a vast panel of sonoric textures and approaches, unique to each composer and their time. With the valued assistance of technician Michel Brandjes, Liu has managed to erect a monument of subtlety and variations that carefully house the pieces that he interprets. As he himself explains in the liner notes: Rameau’s writing (“Gavotte et six doubles,” “Les Sauvages”) lends itself to a sound that abounds in bursts of rage and passion, contrasting with the misty impressionism of Ravel and his “Miroirs.” Somewhere between the two, “Barcarolle” and “Festin d’Esope” serve as the bridge that certain Romantics sought between baroque music and their own. Bruce Liu revels in the flexibility of his playing, which is precise and adapts to older and more recent repertoire alike. His interpretation of Ravel’s “Miroirs” is particularly admirable for its skillful use of sonoric layers and its sense of time – and, notably, of silence – and brings to mind another beautiful version - that of Pierre-Laurent Aimard, also released on Deutsche Grammophon. © Pierre Lamy/Qobuz

The debut EP from 15-year-old electronic pop singer/songwriter Billie Eilish, dont smile at me arrived in August 2017 from the Interscope label. Produced and co-written by Eilish's older brother, Finneas O'Connell, the eight-track release features the lush and lonesome single "Ocean Eyes," a song that first went viral for the Los Angeles-based artist in 2016 and brought her to the attention of Interscope. Eilish's sound is sleek, sometimes quirky, and often characterized by clever wordplay. Subsequent singles "watch" and "COPYCAT" were issued in the summer of 2017 in advance of the EP's release.© Timothy Monger /TiVo

Tori Amos has said that her new album—her 16th—is "about your losses, and how you cope with them." For her, that includes pandemic lockdown and the Capitol riots, as viewed from her remote farm in Cornwall, England. The area inspired her with its ancient mythology, including tales of pixies and giants; the fairytale Jack the Giant Slayer, aka Jack and the Beanstalk, was born of Cornish lore. As always, Amos herself isn't afraid to take on so-called giants. "Devil's Bane" warns of men who would try to control women and has a sort of Led Zeppelin feel, with its witchy guitar and big drums, courtesy of Pearl Jam's Matt Chamberlain (who last worked with Amos on 2009's Midwinter Graces). "Ocean to Ocean" places blame for political insurrection—"There are those who never give a goddamn for anything that they're breaking/ There are those that only give a goddamn for the profit that they're making"—a faint guitar cry like an accusatory echo. Yet there's hope as she sings, "There is a way out of this" while uplifting strings echo her optimism. Ocean to Ocean contains surprises, too. Over the years, Amos's theatricality has evolved from Under the Pink's baroque stylings and Little Earthquakes' Kate Bush-inspired drama. But there are some nostalgic moments on this record. "Addition of Light Divided" is especially Bush-like, and melancholy ballad "Flowers Burn to Gold," comfortingly, feels like it could've been lifted from one of those old albums—with Amos' left-hand piano work as heavy as the physical feelings of mourning, while her right hand tries to pull up out of it. "I am fascinated when someone has gone through a tragedy, and how they work through their grief. That is where the gold is ..." Amos has said. "I'm going to meet you in the muck." For "Speaking With Trees," with its spritely piano and galloping drums, that means turning to nature for comfort. On "Swim to New York State" (a song of loss, driven by moody strings) she's still in the bargaining stage of grief: "I'd swim to New York State from the Cornish coast of England, for even just a day," she sings, searching for reconnection. "Birthday Baby" slinks along like a tango, celebrating resilience: "This year, you survived through it all/ A cosmic apocalypse, a stab to the heart." And "29 Years" is remarkably, powered by a looming undertow of bass and drums, along with a sort of reggae-rock guitar. "Spies," meanwhile, is as "poppy" a song as Amos has penned in years. Written to quell her daughter's nightmares and fear of bats, it's a "lullaby" set to a racing beat and busy, mischievous bass, with absurd imagery about "spies" who chase away night terrors: "Scary men dipped in mustard (English mixed with Dijon)/ Mrs. Crabby Apple/ Won't get custard/ Won't get crumble." It's playful—ready to be a great TV show theme—and totally suits her. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Still in the framework of Led Zeppelin’s fiftieth anniversary, Jimmy Page wanted to add a new iteration to the double live that wasn’t unanimously received upon its release. Granted he had already dusted it off in 2007, adding no less than six new tracks, including Black Dog, Heartbreaker and an epic version of Since I've Been Loving You that might actually top the original. For a total of 34 minutes and 40 seconds of additional happiness. But, despite these presents, the criticism is once again the same: even in Hi-Res Audio (at last!), The Song Remains the Same remains very frustrating compared to the studio-album versions. Released a little later in 1976, because the film had been delayed, it seemed offbeat compared to the band’s two latest productions, Physical Graffiti and Presence. This also meant giving a miss to a few marvels, like the immortal Kashmir and a few other gems. An injustice that hasn’t been repaired to this day, except for Led Zeppelin DVD and Celebration Day, as the first didn’t feature a purely audio version, and the second was only recorded in 2007, without the late John Bonham. Four decades later, it could all seem very much incidental. One just needs to listen to it in a row after the first five studio albums, going through How the West Was Won then The Complete BBC Sessions and finally Celebration Day, to realise it holds up just fine! And while the critics were harsh at the time, it is now obvious that the recording audio quality is exceptional. Those who enjoy long instrumental digressions, which do credit to the talent for improvisation of Jimmy Page, Robert Plant, John Paul Jones and John Bonham, will be on cloud nine, with a brand new sound. Pending The Song Remains The Same II The Return for 1974-1980? © Jean-Pierre Sabouret/Qobuz

Many years into her study of the music of Finnskogen, an area of Norway once populated by Forest Finns, where she now resides, Sinikka Langeland returns with another strong chapter in her journey. Langeland's instrument, the charming Norwegian harp-like kantele, exists in several iterations from five and 15 strings up to 40, and is played on a table like the more familiar zither. An ECM recording artist since 2007, she has recorded in a number of contexts including solo, instrumental-only and vocal-centric. She teams with an all-star group of Norwegian musicians, including trumpeter Mathias Eick, bassist Mats Eilertsen and drummer Thomas Strønen, all of whom have recorded for ECM as leaders.  Recorded by engineer Martin Abrahamsen at Rainbow Studios in Oslo, these sessions were mixed by Langeland, Guido Gorna and Michael Hinreiner at Bavaria Musikstudios in Munich. In line with the ECM ethos, the breadth and depth of the sound of Wind and Sun are breathtaking, accurately capturing the delicate resonances of the kantele. For lyrics for her original music, Langeland refashions texts from a variety of sources old and new—ancient myths and legends to modern poetry. Here she has collaborated with contemporary Norwegian poet and novelist Jon Fosse. His poem on the unstoppable passing of time, "It Walks and Walks," is gorgeously sung by Langeland while the horns provide complimentary accompaniment joining together at the end. In "When the Heart is a Moon," a pair of poems are joined and despite losing something in their English translation in the liner notes, some of Fosse's artfulness comes through: "I shall see it disappear/ And hear music/ In the movement we create/ And that creates us, so distinctly/ In the darkness." In many ways what grounds Langeland and her music in the modern world is her jazz-like approach to arranging and band dynamics. "The Love" spectacularly succeeds in adopting some of the sway of Brazilian bossa nova music, complete with a swarthy Stan Getz-like saxophone from a longtime Langeland collaborator, Trygve Seim. Another striking track is "A Child Who Exists," with just a trio of voice, kantele and saxophone whose interplay exudes a fragile, haunting beauty. Enchanting musicological esoterica. © Robert Baird/Qobuz

Amidst the great and eclectic new wave family at the dawn of the 1980s, Echo & the Bunnymen imposed their own voice, which was different from those of the Cure, U2, Simple Minds or the Psychedelic Furs. It was a uniqueness which was in part due to the tortured voice of charismatic crooner Ian McCulloch. After a few fairly sombre first albums, the Bunnymen gradually gave in to a desire for big melodies and richer instrumentation. Ocean Rain is the height of this new turn. Throughout this fourth album, which came out in spring 1984, the ethereal rock of the Liverpool quartet owes as much to the grandiloquence of the great Scott Walker as to the poetry of the Doors or the Byrds, or the torment of Joy Division… Thanks to its mega-slick production and smooth arrangements, the talents of composer McCulloch and the impressionism of Will Sergeant's guitars are magnified all the more. The lyricism of Ocean Rain is, above all, never hackneyed. Draped in tasteful violins, the record reaches its zenith with The Killing Moon, a long and crepuscular ballad, one for putting on repeat… © Marc Zisman/Qobuz