Cream teamed up with producer Felix Pappalardi for their second album, Disraeli Gears, a move that helped push the power trio toward psychedelia and also helped give the album a thematic coherence missing from the debut. This, of course, means that Cream get further away from the pure blues improvisatory troupe they were intended to be, but it does get them to be who they truly are: a massive, innovative power trio. The blues still courses throughout Disraeli Gears -- the swirling kaleidoscopic "Strange Brew" is built upon a riff lifted from Albert King -- but it's filtered into saturated colors, as it is on "Sunshine of Your Love," or it's slowed down and blurred out, as it is on the ominous murk of "Tales of Brave Ulysses." It's a pure psychedelic move that's spurred along by Jack Bruce's flourishing collaboration with Pete Brown. Together, this pair steers the album away from recycled blues-rock and toward its eccentric British core, for with the fuzzy freakout "Swlabr," the music hall flourishes of "Dance the Night Away," the swinging "Take It Back," and of course, the old music hall song "Mother's Lament," this is a very British record. Even so, this crossed the ocean and also became a major hit in America, because regardless of how whimsical certain segments are, Cream are still a heavy rock trio and Disraeli Gears is a quintessential heavy rock album of the '60s. Yes, its psychedelic trappings tie it forever to 1967, but the imagination of the arrangements, the strength of the compositions, and especially the force of the musicianship make this album transcend its time as well.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Taj Mahal has released many kinds of albums in a six-decade career: folk, jump, country, blues of all stripes, sounds from Africa, the Caribbean, R&B, soul, collaborations with musicians from across the globe, and even children's records. Savoy moves in another direction still. Recorded in collaboration with producer, pianist, and longtime friend John Simon, this set offers blues-kissed reads of 14 tunes from the Great American Songbook. The album is titled as an homage to the iconic Harlem ballroom at 596 Lenox Ave. Mahal's parents met there in 1938 seeing Ella Fitzgerald front the Chick Webb Orchestra. Simon and Mahal discussed the project for decades, but August 2022 was when the planets aligned. They cut the set live with a core band and guests. Mahal's band includes guitarist Danny Caron, bassist Ruth Davies, Simon on piano, drummer Leon Joyce, Jr., and a vocal chorus with Carla Holbrook, Leesa Humphrey, and Charlotte McKinnon. Interestingly, Caron and Davies served in Charles Brown's band, and Joyce drummed with Ramsey Lewis for many years. "Stompin' at the Savoy" starts with spoken word; Mahal delivers a reenactment of his parents' meeting. As he commences singing and scatting the lyrics, backing singers underscore with oohs, aahs, and call-and-response. "I'm Just a Lucky So-and-So" is one of three Duke Ellington numbers here. The languid horn section plays a blues progression with added warmth and grace from Kristen Strom's swinging flute. The arrangement of George Gershwin's "Summertime" is delivered allegretto, with blue, finger-popping swing from lush horns. "Mood Indigo" benefits from co-producer Manny Moreira's accumulated years of big band and Broadway experience. His layered brass colorations add dimension. "Do Nothin' Till You Hear from Me" offers languid, late-night horns (except in the bridge when they deliberately evoke gospel), and Simon's tasteful comping adds drama. The fluid blues guitar break from Caron benefits with elegance and bite. "Sweet Georgia Brown" is meaty and sprightly as Mahal's grainy singing and scatting contrasts beautifully with Evan Price's "Parisian hot jazz" violin. Maria Muldaur -- one of the great interpreters of vintage blues, jazz, R&B, and country -- joins Mahal on the fun, sultry "Baby It's Cold Outside," with excellent violin, trombone, and piano solos. "Caldonia," Louis Jordan's striding jump boogie, offers pumping piano, swinging guitar, and smoking sax and trombone solos behind Mahal's good-time vocal. His harmonica joins Strom's tenor sax to elevate in Benny Golson's dynamic "Killer Joe," before "One for My Baby (And One More for the Road)" closes the set. Mahal references several classic versions and arrangements in shifting tempos, but he ultimately only sounds like himself. Savoy embodies the abundant joy of its predecessor, Get On Board: The Songs of Sonny Terry & Brownie McGhee, but the album offers added nuance, color, dynamics, and musical sophistication. It seemingly accomplishes the impossible by taking these (overly) familiar standards and breathing new life into them while simultaneously honoring their legacies as well as that of the historic Harlem ballroom. © Thom Jurek /TiVo

**Audio for this release has been delivered to us in the highest available resolutions. Discs 1, 2, and 7 are not available in 24-bit Hi-Res but can be be downloaded in CD quality.**

Joe's Garage was originally released in 1979 in two separate parts; Act I came first, followed by a two-record set containing Acts II & III. Joe's Garage is generally regarded as one of Zappa's finest post-'60s conceptual works, a sprawling, satirical rock opera about a totalitarian future in which music is outlawed to control the population. The narrative is long, winding, and occasionally loses focus; it was improvised in a weekend, some of it around previously existing songs, but Zappa manages to make most of it hang together. Acts II & III give off much the same feel, as Zappa relies heavily on what he termed "xenochrony" -- previously recorded guitar solos transferred onto new, rhythmically different backing tracks to produce random musical coincidences. Such an approach is guaranteed to produce some slow moments as well, but critics latched onto the work more for its conceptual substance. Joe's Garage satirizes social control mechanisms, consumerism, corporate abuses, gender politics, religion, and the rock & roll lifestyle; all these forces conspire against the title protagonist, an average young man who simply wants to play guitar and enjoy himself. Even though Zappa himself hated punk rock and even says so on the album, his ideas seemed to support punk's do-it-yourself challenge to the record industry and to social norms in general. Since this is 1979-era Zappa, there are liberal applications of his trademark scatological humor (the titles of "Catholic Girls," "Crew Slut," "Why Does It Hurt When I Pee?," and "Keep It Greasey" are self-explanatory). Still, in spite of its flaws, Joe's Garage has enough substance to make it one of Zappa's most important '70s works and overall political statements, even if it's not focused enough to rank with his earliest Mothers of Invention masterpieces.© Steve Huey /TiVo

Superunknown was a breakthrough in many ways. Not only did the album bring Soundgarden a new audience, it dramatically expanded their vision, as well as their accomplishments. If Down on the Upside initially seems a retreat from the grand, layered textures of Superunknown, let it sink in. The sound of Down on the Upside is certainly more immediate, but the band hasn't returned to the monstrous, unfocused wailing of Louder Than Love. Instead, they've retained their ambitious song structures, neo-psychedelic guitar textures, and winding melodies but haven't dressed them up with detailed production. Consequently, Down on the Upside is visceral as well as cerebral -- "Rhinosaur" goes for the gut, while "Pretty Noose" is updated, muscular prog rock. Down on the Upside is a deceptive album -- it might seem like nothing more than heavy metal, but a closer listen reveals that Soundgarden haven't tempered their ambitions at all.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

When Stevie Nicks released her debut solo album in 1981, nobody doubted it would be successful. Nicks was not only the visual centerpiece of Fleetwood Mac's '70s achievements, but also the one member of the band who artistically always seemed to strike the right balance of "weird creative" and "pop mastermind." However, few people could have predicted that Bella Donna would wind up being quadruple-platinum, selling more copies than any of Fleetwood Mac's non-Rumours albums. It achieved that success by threading a tight needle of sounding familiar enough to Mac fans to be recognizable, but also unique—and commercial—enough to stand on its own. With a considerable assist from a few of her famous friends (Tom Petty, Don Henley, producer Jimmy Iovine) and a look that was perfect for the then-new MTV, Nicks absolutely dominated the summer and fall of 1981 with hits like "Edge of Seventeen," "Stop Draggin' My Heart Around," and "Leather and Lace," but deeper cuts like "Outside the Rain," "Kind of Woman" and the title track are equally rewarding. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

Stevie Wonder broke a three-year silence, one that followed a series of six classic albums released within six years, with this double album, the score/soundtrack to a little-seen environmental documentary directed by Wild Bunch co-screenwriter Walon Green. From the release of Songs in the Key of Life through the release of Plants, Wonder had been active, actually, but only as a collaborator, working with Ramsey Lewis, the Pointer Sisters, Minnie Riperton, Syreeta, Ronnie Foster, and Michael Jackson. Even so, three years was a considerable lag between albums. Anticipation was so high that this release peaked at number four on the Billboard 200 and R&B album charts. It quickly slipped to footnote status; when Wonder’s 1972-1980 albums were reissued in 2000, it was left out of the program. Plants is a sprawling, fascinating album. Though it is dominated by synthesizer-heavy instrumental pieces with evocative titles, there is a handful of full-blown songs. The gorgeous, mostly acoustic ballad “Send One Your Love” was a Top Ten R&B single, while the joyous “Outside My Window” registered in the Top 60. Beyond that, there’s the deep classic “Come Back as a Flower,” a gently lapping, piano-led ballad featuring Syreeta on vocals. Otherwise, there are playfully oddball tracks like “Venus’ Flytrap and the Bug,” where Wonder chirps “Please don’t eat me!” through robotizing effects, and “A Seed’s a Star,” which incorporates crowd noise, a robotized monologue, and a shrieking Tata Vega over a funkier and faster version of Yellow Magic Orchestra. The album is not for everyone, but it suited its purpose and allowed its maker an amount of creative wiggle room that few major-label artists experience. © Andy Kellman /TiVo

"Bird acheives a vastness and an intimacy within each piece of music -- something like snuggling under a blanket while gazing at the sea of stars above."© TiVo

Again followed a string of projects that put Oneohtrix Point Never's Daniel Lopatin at the forefront of pop culture. In particular, his collaboration with the Weeknd widened his audience dramatically; alongside his work on After Hours and Dawn FM, he executive produced the Weeknd's Super Bowl LV halftime show, during which Abel Tesfaye dashed through a hall of mirrors. On the tenth Oneohtrix Point Never album, Lopatin does something similar: Again is the final volume in a trilogy of albums in which he carries an artistic conversation with his past selves. The series began with Garden of Delete's sullen mutations of the nu-metal, trance, and R&B that soundtracked his adolescence, then jumped to the warped reconfigurations of his childhood radio memories on Magic Oneohtrix Point Never. Here, Lopatin filters the music of his young adulthood -- shoegaze, post-rock, modern composition, and electronic music of all kinds -- through his perspective as an artist in his forties. As suggested by its title, old and new circle each other on Again's recollections and reflections. This is music that sounds like it's always in the process of becoming: "Locrian Midwest" flits from prickly electronics and birdsong to flashes of pensive piano, moody vocalizations, strings, and woodwinds before finishing with a quintessentially OPN analogue synth sweep. Lopatin traces the musical butterfly effect of how one creative choice ripples out to another with equal amounts of academic rigor and love. There's pure delight in "Plastic Antique"'s interplay of crisp electronics and saxophone; on "World Outside," Lopatin stills the swelling synths and strings for a moment to sing "isn't the view so amazing?" Revisiting his former self brings surprising elements into Again's spotlight. It's one of Oneohtrix Point Never's most guitar-heavy albums, with honest-to-goodness solos tearing across the dark fragments of "Nightmare Paint" and "Memories of Music," a hybrid of soft-rock, fusion, and prog driven by Lee Ranaldo's tireless fretwork. Lopatin's collaborators -- who also include composer/conductor Robert Ames, Ensemble NOMAD, and Jim O'Rourke -- ensure that Again's introspection never feels too insular. On "Krumville," a truly moving hologram of Midwestern emo, Xiu Xiu and Lopatin join voices to honor a departed friend. This song and several others employ artificial intelligence in an artful blend of Lopatin's self-described "false memories" and technology's possibilities and limitations. An AI-generated loop provides the foundation for the blissful shoegaze refractions of "On an Axis"', and the cyber-chatter teased out of a speech enhancement program for "The Body Trail" feels like the latest incarnation of Garden of Delete's muttering vocaloid and Magic Oneohtrix Point Never's surreal station ID breaks. While all of Again is remarkably on-brand for Oneohtrix Point Never, Lopatin's familiar concepts are never over-familiar. As restless as the album's pieces are, they're often more clearly defined than either of the trilogy's previous volumes, as are the moods and meanings behind the sounds he revisits. Some of OPN's most emotional and beautiful music brings Again to an end, with "A Barely Lit Path" uniting most of the album's tangents in a poignant moment of closure. Personal and grand at the same time, Again's mixtape of memories continues Lopatin's enduring brilliance at moving forward by looking back.© Heather Phares /TiVo

Three years after a dazzling entry into the world pop scene, this Australian-Berlin quintet is pulling a double shift for its second album, divided into two parts of nine tracks, Day and Night, recorded in the studios of La Frette-sur-Seine, a 19th century manor house where Marianne Faithfull, Nick Cave and the Arctic Monkeys have also worked. The first half is luminous, in the tradition of Parcels' first LP, with a pop/funk vibe that has worked very well for them. There are singles that will play well on the radio and at festivals: Free, Comingback, Theworstthing and the irresistible anthem Somethinggreater, while Daywalk demonstrates the Parcels' inextinguishable taste for jam sessions, which are always so elegant in their arrangements (cf. the very Beatles-influenced Outside). The Night is not in fact as dark as all that: we quickly find ourselves on the dance floor (naturally, the one from Studio 54 on Famous or LordHenry), before a relaxed trip to a hushed jazz club (Nightwalk) and then returning home (Inside). All in all, it makes for 24 exciting hours with Parcels. © Smaël Bouaici/Qobuz

Reaffirming that sometimes the only way out is through, Montreal native Allison Russell boldly confronts past traumas on the remarkable Outside Child, her debut release as a solo artist. A seasoned staple of the North American roots music scene, the singer, songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist came up in the early 2000s as part of the eclectic Canadian band Po' Girl before teaming up with her husband, JT Nero, in the acclaimed folk duo Birds of Chicago. Now based in Nashville, she is also a member of Our Native Daughters, an all-female banjo-driven supergroup spearheaded by like-minded Renaissance woman Rhiannon Giddens. As a songwriter, Russell has been singing various forms of her truth for years, but on Outside Child, she candidly lays bare the fraught journey that transformed her from a sexually abused adolescent and teenage runaway to the fiercely creative force who found community and healing in music. Drifting seamlessly between English and French, she offers up paeans to the city that kept her safe after escaping her abusive stepfather and enabling mother at the age of 15. On the torchy "Montreal," she sings about sleeping rough in city parks, church pews, and cemeteries, each one a safer place than her own home. The lush blues of "Fourth Day Prayer," on which she devastatingly recalls her abuse, is also a meditation on forgiveness and empathy. On "The Runner," Russell recounts the moment music captured her heart outside a Vancouver music venue. Throughout her career, she has skirted the edges of various roots forms without painting herself into any one corner. That tastefulness manifests itself here in gorgeously layered arrangements that feel timeless and built to last. "Hy Brasil," another standout, pays homage to her Scottish-Canadian grandmother, whose taste for mythical and spiritual matters seems to have seeped into Russell's own consciousness. Its circular folk melody and witchy lyrics tap into an eerie undercurrent that occasionally reveals itself throughout the album. As a singer, Russell has a knack for playing around with different timbres to suit the song, and the abundance of crafty clarinet solos she delivers are an unexpected pleasure. As difficult and cathartic as the subject matter is, it's clear that she has come out on the other end and is not only thriving as an artist, but has found peace as a human. Having such a rich and compelling story to tell on a debut album is rare, and Russell delivers her tale with the utmost grace and finesse.© Timothy Monger /TiVo

Less than a year after the release of their critically acclaimed sixth album Imploding the Mirage, the Killers returned with the melancholic Pressure Machine, a stark rumination on small-town life set to the most pensive, yet touching soundscapes in their catalog to date. This is not a typical Killers album: stripped of their typical Vegas bombast, rousing anthems, and glittering showmanship, the set reveals the dark side of the Sam's Town trailer park, a place of depression, fundamentalism, desperation, and violence. Yet it's also a place where doors remain unlocked at night, kids go hunting and dirt bike riding, and a quiet sense of pride courses through the souls of the God-fearing. Steeped in personal memories and fleshed-out by stories of people from his hometown of Nephi, Utah (snippets of interviews from current locals introduce each song on the album), Pressure Machine finds frontman Brandon Flowers in reflective mode, meditating on provincial American life through a strikingly personal lens. Channeling these assorted townsfolk -- blue-collar laborers, addicts, suicidal teens, and the blissfully insular -- Flowers maintains his position as one of his generation's most effective storytellers, capturing the resignation of a small town where residents don't mind that they've "never seen the ocean" because the ultimate treasure awaits "way up high" in heaven. Despite these bleak views of a suffocated population of humble people just trying to get by, he's careful to respect their stories, creating a patchwork of experiences that is oddly beautiful and heartfelt. From the high school sweethearts who never left town ("We'll be here forever," the interviewee says at the start of the sweeping, string-backed opener "West Hills") to the ones who felt they only had one way to escape (on the devastating "Terrible Thing"), listeners are plunged into this world, meeting a cast of characters that are humanized and utterly relatable. While not a cheerful listen, the album works best as a narrative experience, a series of cinematic peeks behind the curtain of everyday life, like on the pastoral "Runaway Horses," where guest vocalist Phoebe Bridgers backs Flowers as he frames the horror of a rodeo girl and her injured steed into a moving coming-of-age tale that is at once intimate and absolutely beautiful. Through these weighty snapshots, the band -- a reunited Dave Keuning, Mark Stoermer, and Ronnie Vannucci -- relies on simplicity and restraint with acoustic guitars, harmonica, sweeping strings, and modest percussion. For fans in search of those trademark synths, sky-high guitars, and galloping drums, there are only a few moments that get the toes tapping (the Springsteen-with-synths of "Quiet Town," the driving synth pop of "In the Car Outside," and the full-bodied rocker "In Another Life"). Otherwise, Pressure Machine remains dour and bittersweet. This matured focus on concept and mood saves the album from becoming an odd catalog misstep, serving instead as a dignified artistic exercise that rewards the band's bravery by becoming the most heartfelt and poignant statement of their careers.© Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo

At the ripe old age of 20, Clarksdale, Mississippi guitar slinger Christone "Kingfish" Ingram has been anointed "the next explosion of the blues," by no less than Buddy Guy. The proclamation is accurate. Ingram is young, but he's spent most of life pursuing the blues across the Delta and Chicago traditions, with nods at '70s hard rock and soul along the way. First exposed to blues via gospel in church, Ingram has been playing guitar since he was ten; he first stepped on a stage to play at the age of 11, at Clarksdale's famous Ground Zero Club, as part of Mississippi blues icon Bill "Howl-N-Madd" Perry's band -- Perry is Ingram's mentor. Before he was 18, Ingram had already toured the U.S. and six other countries, performed at the White House, and made appearances in the Marvel series Nick Cage. His musical influences range from Robert Johnson -- who supposedly made his deal with the devil not far from Ingram's home at the intersection of Highways 61 and 49 -- to Muddy Waters, Guy, and even Prince (he offers a hell of a cover of "Purple Rain" live). Kingfish was recorded in Nashville for Alligator Records and produced by Grammy-winning songwriter, bluesman, country singer, and drummer Tom Hambridge, who co-wrote most of these 12 songs with the guitarist. Opener "Outside of This Town," reveals the influence of ZZ Top's Billy Gibbons with its meaty, angular fills and pulled strings. It's followed by the slow-burning ballad "Fresh Out," on which Ingram trades solos with his hero Guy. Ingram can deliver an acoustic ballad like a master, too: check "Been Here Before" and "Hard Times" with Keb Mo' on acoustic resonator guitar (he appears throughout the record) offering balance, nuance, and restless country-soul. The slow burn of "Love Ain't My Favorite Word" calls forth the influence of Guy's '80s period with its biting, sharp notes and unexpected fills between sung lines and aggressive solo flourishes during turnarounds. "Before I'm Old" shines a light on Guitar Slim before the scorching lead break. "Listen" is a country-blues with a gorgeous vocal from Ingram. "Trouble," on the other hand, is drenched in the New Orleans R&B lineage à la Professor Longhair, and dragged into the present via an intense, rolling melodicism in Ingram's singing and soloing. The funky shuffle and snare breaks in "Believe These Blues" add a hefty yet slow-burning menace to the otherwise nocturnal shuffle. "Hard Times" with Keb Mo' is a slow-burn acoustic shuffle steeped in the Delta mud, while closer "That's Fine by Me" is a sweet, sultry, and soulful nocturnal blues with edgy fills reminiscent of early B.B. King, yet firmly grounded in this historical moment. The bottom line is that Ingram arrives fully formed as an already authoritative presence on Kingfish, all revved up and ready to. This is as promising as a debut album gets. © Thom Jurek /TiVo

Titled after one of Quavo's lines from the chirpy summertime 2016 hit co-billed to Travis Scott and Young Thug, this fitfully hypnotizing follow-up arrived after numerous delays, toward the end of the year's third quarter. "Pick Up the Phone" functioned as the lead single off Thug's JEFFERY, and it sensibly reappears here, buried in the latter half, de-emphasized yet not quite a tacked-on bonus. It's easily the track with the most pop appeal on Scott's second full-length. Released almost exactly a year after Rodeo, Birds in the Trap features little development, though the large company Scott keeps is quite different, and Metro Boomin is noticeably absent. Among the present is André 3000, who drops by on "The Ends" to recollect the infamous rash of murders that struck his city during his early childhood. The album's deepest verse by a great measure, it has no discernible connection to Scott's surrounding rhymes of cocksure nonsense. That remains the M.O. of Scott, who remains deeply into heavy accessorization and proclamations of dominance, as well as punctuations with affirmative exclamations cast in dehumanizing pitch alteration. Swarming basslines and sluggish beats likewise form the rhythmic foundation, with gauzy and tickling keyboards adding sweetness to Scott's hedonistic hooks. Only on "Guidance," through scuttling drums granted by DF, is there a significant shake-up. This time, Scott co-produced only one track, another Weeknd collaboration, and it easily slips into the album's scheme with its serpentine menace and lightweight lyricism. Among the others on the guest carousel are Kendrick Lamar, Kid Cudi, 21 Savage, and Cassie. They all pass in a slow-motion blur.© Andy Kellman /TiVo

Starting in late 2018, pop artist and Internet personality Poppy teased a drastic stylistic shift, moving beyond the alt-pop earworms that amassed a cult following and embracing her metal-loving side. Disregarding genre restrictions, the result of that evolution, I Disagree, is a metallic storm, informed by pulsing beats, thrashing riffs, and crushing breakdowns. That fury is punctuated by atmospheric electronics and sugary vocals that support her deceptively confrontational lyrics. Liberated from a longtime creative partner and joining the Sumerian roster alongside Sleeping with Sirens and Korn's Jonathan Davis, Poppy takes the opportunity to rebrand and realign, achieving something close to authenticity in the process. Peddling a different kind of subversion, I Disagree is the natural end to a path she began on 2018's Am I a Girl?, which ended with a triplet of tracks revealing her love for nu-metal and industrial. Her commitment to this new direction is a delight, especially for like-minded listeners who dabble in both pop and metal realms. References to everything from Grimes and Madonna to Rammstein and Static-X are thrown into this melee and, while the sheer amount of sound that Poppy crams into I Disagree can be overwhelming, the payoff is a genuine thrill. Opener "Concrete" bridges her past and present by introducing thrashing guitar riffs and a massive breakdown to a shared space with kawaii J-pop vocals and warm harmonies. If one ever dreamed of hearing a collaboration featuring Babymetal, Grimes, the Beach Boys, and Slipknot, then Poppy is here to deliver. While the title track mashes post-hardcore with nu-metal, "Bloodmoney" lashes out with the album's angriest lyrics and industrial cacophony to match her rage. On that front, "Fill the Crown" teases a brief return to Robyn-esque pop before tearing it down with more industrial metal crunch and a mysterious vocalist doing his best Marilyn Manson impression. Speaking of Manson, bits of "The Beautiful People" can be heard on "Anything Like Me," a demonic kiss-off that sounds like an alternate-reality cousin of Billie Eilish's "Bury a Friend." If this first half causes whiplash with the abundance of styles and references, Poppy allows a bit of respite on Side B. As "Bite Your Teeth" pummels with a bowel-busting metalcore breakdown, gorgeous moments such as "Nothing I Need" and "Sick of the Sun" play on her love of French electronic duo Air and even some '90s dream pop. One of I Disagree's many highlights, "Sit, Stay" is Poppy's feverish collision of Grimes alt-pop, chugging techno-metal, and late-2000s new rave, a swelling dose of electroclash that sums up the album with the declaration, "Welcome to the new starting line." Wrapping up this wild ride with sweeping closer "Don't Go Outside," she summarizes memorable lines from throughout the album and reminds her devoted following that, like her, "You can be anyone you want to be." As both a symbolic avatar for her life changes and a strong empowerment statement, I Disagree celebrates Poppy's rebirth as a pop-metal alchemist and unabashed rule-breaker.© Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo

Faithful. 25 years since his career began, Kevin Roosevelt Moore – a.k.a Keb’ Mo – has always remained deeply faithful to the blues. A righteous path which has never kept him from adding his own stone to a building which already has many, many builders. Oklahoma in that sense is an original project – a stone of his own, if you will. There are no links between him, his story and that state which borders Colorado and Kansas to the north, Missouri and Arkansas to the east, New Mexico to the west and Texas to the south. In 2013, Keb’ Mo, along with Kenny Wayne Shepherd, travelled there for a disaster relief fund concert, following a deadly tornado. Friendships were born, along with a need to create something which would be anchored to that region. Keb’ Mo’s blues is intertwined with country, native American and folk music; Robert Randolph and his impressionistic lap steel playing came along, with Rosanne Cash, as well as Taj Mahal – with whom he wrote the album TajMo in 2017. True to himself, his lyrics scrutinize America’s internalized suffering as well our era’s new set of problems.© Clotilde Maréchal/Qobuz