Recorded in 1957, Ella & Louis Again re-teams Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong after the success of their first album and a popular series of concerts at the Hollywood Bowl the previous year. Stylistically, Fitzgerald and Armstrong had very different histories; he started out in Dixieland before branching out into classic jazz and swing, whereas Fitzgerald started out as a swing-oriented big-band vocalist before becoming an expert bebopper. But the two of them have no problem finding common ground on Ella & Louis Again, which is primarily a collection of vocal duets (with the backing of a solid rhythm section led by pianist Oscar Peterson). One could nitpick about the fact that Satchmo doesn't take more trumpet solos, but the artists have such a strong rapport as vocalists that the trumpet shortage is only a minor point. Seven selections find either Fitzgerald or Armstrong singing without the other, although they're together more often than not on this fine set.© Alex Henderson /TiVo

During the late '50s, Ella Fitzgerald continued her Song Book records with Sings the George and Ira Gershwin Song Book, releasing a series of albums featuring 59 songs written by George and Ira Gershwin. Those songs, plus alternate takes, were combined on a four-disc box set, Sings the George and Ira Gershwin Song Book, in 1998. These performances are easily among Fitzgerald's very best, and for any serious fan, this is the ideal place to acquire the recordings, since the sound and presentation are equally classy and impressive.© Leo Stanley /TiVo

Rising conductor Cristian Măcelaru recorded mostly American music during his tenures in the U.S., but his posts in Europe have sent his career in a new direction. With the WDR Sinfonieorchester, he has recorded Dvořák and now, on this 2023 release, Bartók, with extremely promising results. Bartók's The Wooden Prince is a charming and affecting ballet about a romance controlled by a wooden puppet. The music is folk-influenced, but in place of the acerbic and rigorous later Bartók is a gentle gracefulness that Măcelaru's reading captures to the hilt, and the clean sounds he is getting from the WDR Sinfonieorchester bodes extremely well for his future outings with that ensemble. Bartók's Dance Suite can look either backward or forward in performance, and Măcelaru chooses the former; he offers a restrained Allegro molto that lets the primitivism in the score emerge naturally rather than hammering it home. Bartók rather lacks a champion right now, but this immensely satisfying recording, with excellent sound from the Kölner Philharmonie, suggests that Măcelaru may be able to fill that role. © James Manheim /TiVo

The big news for Selena Gomez before the release of her sixth album, Rare, is that she finally had a number one single after years of getting close. The introspective and emotionally raw ballad "Lose You to Love Me" surrounded Gomez's aching vocals with sparse piano, swirling strings, and lush background vocals, and connected instantly with her fans and anyone who ever had to ditch someone in order to save themselves. That song, and the record it appears on, mark something of a turning point in her career. Where in the past she focused mostly on breezy sentiments, playful frothy pop, and more recently sexy come-ons, now she's digging deeper and mining her own life and loves for subject matter in more obvious and revealing ways. It may not be totally confessional -- and each song is helped to the finish line by teams of professional songwriters -- but within the realm of mainstream modern pop, Rare is surprisingly honest lyrically and Gomez sounds more open and invested in the songs than ever before. Lyrically they range from stripped bare ("Lose You," "Vulnerable") to empowered (the title track, "Look at Her Now") with stops along the way at freedom (the sparkly, French disco-inspired "Dance Again"), realization ("Kinda Crazy"), and slyly moving on ("Fun"). The team pair the words with hooky choruses that are easy to imagine being sung along with really loud and some sure-handed production that's never boring and strays happily into odd territory now and again -- the junky drum sound on "Rare," "Look at Her Now"'s chopped-up vocals, the computer-tweaked vocals of "People You Know," and the wobbly synths and arrangements of "A Sweeter Place" crafted by Kid Cudi. Gomez's albums work best when they don't chase trends, or do obvious things, and there is precious little of that here; only the very "Havana"-esque "Ring" falls victim to that particular problem. It's highly unlikely that Gomez will ever venture to the cutting edge of pop, but Rare proves that when she has strong songs and the producers get a little weird, she's just enough outside the mainstream to sound fresh. Add in some deeply felt and real emotion like she does here, and it verges on being something special, maybe her best record yet. If it isn't that, it's at least her most interesting one yet, and that's something fans of the homogenized pop scene of the era should celebrate.© Tim Sendra /TiVo

The tenth full-length effort from the dynamic post-hardcore unit Dance Gavin Dance, Jackpot Juicer is the final studio album to feature vocalist Tilian Pearson, who recently left the group, and bassist Tim Feerick, who died just months before the record's release. The band's longest-running LP to date, the 18-song set was produced by Kris Crummett and includes the fiery Rob Damiani (Don Broco)-assisted lead single "Synergy."© Tivo Staff /TiVo

Megadeth's 14th studio outing finds the venerable metal outfit parting ways with Roadrunner Records, but not with producer Johnny K (Disturbed, Staind), who brought some much needed sonic heft to 2011's Th1rt3en. Super Collider is indeed big and beefy, but it’s awfully light on flavor. Things start out promisingly enough with the blistering "Kingmaker," a thrashy, cautionary tale about oxycontin that evokes classic Megadeth, but any residual warm and fuzzy feelings vanish abruptly upon the arrival of the surprisingly out of character title cut, a rote, state fair-ready, light beer-hoisting rocker that sounds like a late-'80s/early-'90s Tesla or AC/DC throwaway (actually, how did Megadeth release an album called Super Collider before AC/DC?), which is exactly the kind of thing that the band has not only avoided, but brazenly stood against since its 1983 inception. Also, why is there a painting of Iron Man on the back cover? Things certainly don’t improve with the limp "Burn!," an artless slab of gym metal that finds the normally erudite Dave Mustaine rhyming fire with desire, a desire that "burns hotter than hell." In fact, outside of "Kingmaker," the banjo-led Rob Zombie-meets-Mark Lanegan lament "Blackest Crow" and the outstanding "Built for War," a surprisingly agile, apocalyptic anti-anthem which was co-written with drummer Shawn Drover and guitarist Chris Broderick, the latter of whom supplies the cut with some truly impressive riffage, Super Collider is so mired in midtempo drudgery and familiar hard rock (not thrash) tropes that it never really connects.© James Christopher Monger /TiVo

Peterson proves adept at reworking George Gershwin.© Ron Wynn /TiVo

The big news for Selena Gomez before the release of her sixth album, Rare, is that she finally had a number one single after years of getting close. The introspective and emotionally raw ballad "Lose You to Love Me" surrounded Gomez's aching vocals with sparse piano, swirling strings, and lush background vocals, and connected instantly with her fans and anyone who ever had to ditch someone in order to save themselves. That song, and the record it appears on, mark something of a turning point in her career. Where in the past she focused mostly on breezy sentiments, playful frothy pop, and more recently sexy come-ons, now she's digging deeper and mining her own life and loves for subject matter in more obvious and revealing ways. It may not be totally confessional -- and each song is helped to the finish line by teams of professional songwriters -- but within the realm of mainstream modern pop, Rare is surprisingly honest lyrically and Gomez sounds more open and invested in the songs than ever before. Lyrically they range from stripped bare ("Lose You," "Vulnerable") to empowered (the title track, "Look at Her Now") with stops along the way at freedom (the sparkly, French disco-inspired "Dance Again"), realization ("Kinda Crazy"), and slyly moving on ("Fun"). The team pair the words with hooky choruses that are easy to imagine being sung along with really loud and some sure-handed production that's never boring and strays happily into odd territory now and again -- the junky drum sound on "Rare," "Look at Her Now"'s chopped-up vocals, the computer-tweaked vocals of "People You Know," and the wobbly synths and arrangements of "A Sweeter Place" crafted by Kid Cudi. Gomez's albums work best when they don't chase trends, or do obvious things, and there is precious little of that here; only the very "Havana"-esque "Ring" falls victim to that particular problem. It's highly unlikely that Gomez will ever venture to the cutting edge of pop, but Rare proves that when she has strong songs and the producers get a little weird, she's just enough outside the mainstream to sound fresh. Add in some deeply felt and real emotion like she does here, and it verges on being something special, maybe her best record yet. If it isn't that, it's at least her most interesting one yet, and that's something fans of the homogenized pop scene of the era should celebrate.© Tim Sendra /TiVo

The big news for Selena Gomez before the release of her sixth album, Rare, is that she finally had a number one single after years of getting close. The introspective and emotionally raw ballad "Lose You to Love Me" surrounded Gomez's aching vocals with sparse piano, swirling strings, and lush background vocals, and connected instantly with her fans and anyone who ever had to ditch someone in order to save themselves. That song, and the record it appears on, mark something of a turning point in her career. Where in the past she focused mostly on breezy sentiments, playful frothy pop, and more recently sexy come-ons, now she's digging deeper and mining her own life and loves for subject matter in more obvious and revealing ways. It may not be totally confessional -- and each song is helped to the finish line by teams of professional songwriters -- but within the realm of mainstream modern pop, Rare is surprisingly honest lyrically and Gomez sounds more open and invested in the songs than ever before. Lyrically they range from stripped bare ("Lose You," "Vulnerable") to empowered (the title track, "Look at Her Now") with stops along the way at freedom (the sparkly, French disco-inspired "Dance Again"), realization ("Kinda Crazy"), and slyly moving on ("Fun"). The team pair the words with hooky choruses that are easy to imagine being sung along with really loud and some sure-handed production that's never boring and strays happily into odd territory now and again -- the junky drum sound on "Rare," "Look at Her Now"'s chopped-up vocals, the computer-tweaked vocals of "People You Know," and the wobbly synths and arrangements of "A Sweeter Place" crafted by Kid Cudi. Gomez's albums work best when they don't chase trends, or do obvious things, and there is precious little of that here; only the very "Havana"-esque "Ring" falls victim to that particular problem. It's highly unlikely that Gomez will ever venture to the cutting edge of pop, but Rare proves that when she has strong songs and the producers get a little weird, she's just enough outside the mainstream to sound fresh. Add in some deeply felt and real emotion like she does here, and it verges on being something special, maybe her best record yet. If it isn't that, it's at least her most interesting one yet, and that's something fans of the homogenized pop scene of the era should celebrate.© Tim Sendra /TiVo

Gabby Barrett's breakthrough hit, 2020's excellent "I Hope," heralded a country spitfire with power and range. Her second album finds the singer comfortably settled down; only 23 and married to a man she competed against on American Idol, Barrett already has two kids and a third on the way. "This album tells the story of my current chapter of life as a Christian, a mother, a wife, a songwriter and an artist, along with all the little verses that happen in between," Barrett has said. Chapter & Verse is heartfelt and sweet but a bit restrained: the country music album version of a Hallmark movie. Written by Luke Combs, "Dance Like No One's Watching" is a girl-dad song written from the POV of the now-grown daughter ("I was seven years old, he was holding my hand/ So we walked in the gym, he could tell I was scared/ Said, 'You can pretend it's just you and me'/ So, I closed my eyes and I stood on his feet"). It's a pedal-steel ballad tailor-made for weddings. "Growin' Up Raising You," meanwhile, is a sweeping tribute to Barrett's own daughter ("Hand me the world, wrapped in a pink blanket"). There are several tracks for her husband, a rancher who sometimes plays guitar in Barrett's touring band. "You're bluebonnets growing wild ... You're my Nacogdoches sky," she sings on the Miranda Lambert co-write, gussied up with big guitar riffs and cloud-soft backing sighs. Fiddler Jenee Fleenor brings authenticity to "Cowboy Back," as Barrett makes clear she wants a working cowboy, not just one who wears a hat to downtown Nashville bars: "Takes a little more than a Bass Pro cap and a Skoal ring in back/ I want the whole truck not the trucker hat." "Off the Highway," a frisky Texas-set love song with fiery guitar, echoes the kick of early Maren Morris. Fun "Glory Days" has a skip in its step; Barrett herself has compared it to old-school Keith Urban. "Hard to Read" boasts big kick-ins and recalls ’80s mid-tempo Reba. And there are a couple moments of vulnerability when Barrett really shines, like the swelling piano ballad "All Of My Life" and "Grow Apart," which finally hints at her true strength and vocal range. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

In the program notes for this recording of Dido and Aeneas, conductor Leonardo García Alarcón makes a persuasive scholarly and analytical case for his many unconventional performance choices, but listeners should be forewarned that this is not a version of the opera for the faint of heart or for committed traditionalists. Most noticeably, this performance, which features the Geneva-based ensembles La Nouvelle Ménestrandie and Cappella Mediterranea, makes Dido and Aeneas seem like a very big opera, something on the order of Il Trovatore in its wrenching intensity, if not in its length. Alarcón's augmentation of the orchestra with oboes and bassoons doubling the strings in some places, as he argues Purcell would have done, is partly accountable for its enlarged sense of scale. Equally significant is the ferocity with which both the singers and players tear into their parts and the extremity of some of the characterizations. Dido and the Sorceress, for instance, express their anguish and hatred, respectively, by bending pitches to a degree rarely heard in "classical" music settings, and the Witches sing in creaky, crone-like character voices. It should be remembered that "baroque" was originally a term of derision meaning something misshapen or distorted, the equivalent of wagging the finger and saying, "you've gone too far this time!" That may be exactly the reaction of some listeners, but whether you're appalled or beguiled, this is a Dido and Aeneas that's likely to keep you on the edge of your seat with suspense. Few performances of the opera have so clearly delineated its arch-shaped trajectory; it opens with Dido lamenting the possibility of Aeneas' inconstancy and ends with her lamenting its actuality, and in this recording just about everything that transpires between the laments happens at a fever pitch of musical and dramatic tension. The fact that Alarcón is able to create and sustain the performance's intensity is a testimony not only to his vision and skill but to the willingness of the musicians to throw themselves so wholeheartedly into the venture. Every role, even the smallest, demonstrates the singers' investment in their parts. They all sing beautifully and powerfully, and manage to convey a verismo-like theatricality while operating (more or less) within the bounds of accepted Baroque performance practice. Aeneas can easily come across as a cipher, but Alejandro Meerapfel gives him substance, someone about whom the Queen of Carthage could believably get worked up. Countertenor Fabián Schofrin is a weird, sinister Sorceress. As Belinda, Yeree Suh sings with exceptional warmth, clarity, and sweetness. Solenn' Lavanant Linke's soprano is sumptuous and creamy, and she makes a regal but womanly Dido. The orchestra plays with aching expressivity and the continuo realizations are marvelously inventive. The recording is vividly present and is miked at a high level for a classical album, which also contributes to its unusually large sense of scale. Highly recommended.© TiVo

The big news for Selena Gomez before the release of her sixth album, Rare, is that she finally had a number one single after years of getting close. The introspective and emotionally raw ballad "Lose You to Love Me" surrounded Gomez's aching vocals with sparse piano, swirling strings, and lush background vocals, and connected instantly with her fans and anyone who ever had to ditch someone in order to save themselves. That song, and the record it appears on, mark something of a turning point in her career. Where in the past she focused mostly on breezy sentiments, playful frothy pop, and more recently sexy come-ons, now she's digging deeper and mining her own life and loves for subject matter in more obvious and revealing ways. It may not be totally confessional -- and each song is helped to the finish line by teams of professional songwriters -- but within the realm of mainstream modern pop, Rare is surprisingly honest lyrically and Gomez sounds more open and invested in the songs than ever before. Lyrically they range from stripped bare ("Lose You," "Vulnerable") to empowered (the title track, "Look at Her Now") with stops along the way at freedom (the sparkly, French disco-inspired "Dance Again"), realization ("Kinda Crazy"), and slyly moving on ("Fun"). The team pair the words with hooky choruses that are easy to imagine being sung along with really loud and some sure-handed production that's never boring and strays happily into odd territory now and again -- the junky drum sound on "Rare," "Look at Her Now"'s chopped-up vocals, the computer-tweaked vocals of "People You Know," and the wobbly synths and arrangements of "A Sweeter Place" crafted by Kid Cudi. Gomez's albums work best when they don't chase trends, or do obvious things, and there is precious little of that here; only the very "Havana"-esque "Ring" falls victim to that particular problem. It's highly unlikely that Gomez will ever venture to the cutting edge of pop, but Rare proves that when she has strong songs and the producers get a little weird, she's just enough outside the mainstream to sound fresh. Add in some deeply felt and real emotion like she does here, and it verges on being something special, maybe her best record yet. If it isn't that, it's at least her most interesting one yet, and that's something fans of the homogenized pop scene of the era should celebrate.© Tim Sendra /TiVo

The fourth full-length album from Set It Off, 2019's Midnight, finds the Florida outfit continuing to expand their emo and punk influences with hip-hop and dance influences. The album follows up 2016's Upside Down and features production from Mike Green (State Champs, All Time Low) and Brandon Paddock (Panic! At the Disco, Papa Roach). Included on the album are the singles "Killer in the Mirror," "Lonely Dance," and "Dancing With the Devil."© Matt Collar /TiVo