Since 2019, Taylor Swift has been leading her fans and her music into a space-time rift worthy of a science-fiction block-buster: when she releases a new album, there's a 50/50 chance that it's an old one. What is the meaning of this devilry? Well, it’s mainly due to complicated and conflicting contracts, copyrights and (very) large sums of money, that have  all led Taylor Swift to decide to re-record and re-release her first six albums with some bonus, previously unreleased period tracks. The latest replicant is the album Speak Now, originally released in 2010. This third album of Taylor Swift’s was a major milestone in her discography: aged just twenty, she wrote all the songs for the first time, whilst moving away from the country aesthetic that had made her famous. It was a very personal album, with a lot of diary-style love stories from the point of view of a young woman barely out of her teens. Thirteen years on, it’s clear why Taylor Swift would sing these songs again (to get her hands back on the revenue generated by her old albums). But how? With a fuller voice, and by tidying up some of the lyrics that might be found off-putting today. Hardcore fans and commentators may cry revisionism, but the rest of us will certainly be delighted to find this early album almost unchanged © Stéphane Deschamps

While Taylor Swift transitioned cautiously from country to pop on 2012's Red, she became the face of mainstream pop music with the monumental synth-driven hit parade of her next album, 1989. Released in October of 2014, the album was named after Swift's birth year as well as the era of synth pop radio hits that provided partial inspiration for the dancy, hyper-produced material. 1989 [Taylor's Version] continues Swift's series of re-recording her albums for purposes related to licensing rights, and more than any of the revised versions that preceded it, illuminates the moment when she became a timeless songwriter. At the time of its original release, 1989 was a grand slam, moving platinum numbers, producing seven hit singles (three of which were number ones), and remaining in the charts internationally for more than a year. Returning to this material exactly nine years later, one would expect songs played to death on the radio for nearly a decade to feel a little dated, or for the Jack Antonoff or Max Martin and Shellback co-written tunes to sound especially formulaic in hindsight. Instead, the re-recorded versions (like all of Taylor's Versions, aiming for faithful re-creation of the originals more than artistic updating) sound fresh and vital, perhaps even more powerful in light of Swift's often-shifting artistic progress since. Songs that may have come across shallow or substanceless in 2014 (the cheerleader-y bounce of "Shake It Off" or Swift's PG-rated Lana Del Rey mirroring on "Wildest Dreams") now make more sense as part of the unfettered celebration of pop -- in all its self-indulgence and escapism -- that 1989 was intended as. The album's homage to the gated reverb and MIDI keyboard tones of late-'80s radio comes into full view on the five additional tracks that were kept in the vault from the time the album was initially made. There are echoes of the Outfield's 1986 hit "Your Love" in the verses of "Say Don't Go" before a decidedly 2010s chorus washes up on a cascade of bubbly synth notes, and both "Suburban Legends" and the magnetic hooks of "Slut!" offer a more subdued counterpoint to the overenthusiastic electro-pop exclamation Swift got into on "New Romantics." Fleshed out by these extra tracks, 1989 [Taylor's Version] confirms the lasting strength that Swift's songwriting was achieving in this one of many blooms, and serves as a lovely reminder of when she officially stepped into her place in the pop culture continuum.© Fred Thomas /TiVo

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

Co-directed by Roger Waters and David Gilmour, The Wall, Pink Floyd's eleventh studio album, was released in the UK on November 30, 1979 on the Harvest record label and in the United States on December 8, 1979 on Columbia. It is the last studio album with the line-up of David Gilmour (guitar), Roger Waters (bass guitar and lyricist), Richard Wright (keyboards) and Nick Mason (drums). In 1977, Roger Waters — singer, bassist, lyricist, composer and arranger of Pink Floyd — sketched on a sheet of paper a wall separating audience and musicians. Based on this projection, he calls on Bob Ezrin (producer of Lou Reed, Alice Cooper, Kiss, etc.) to help him realize his project. A double album with a strong concept was released and was a massive success — more than thirty million copies sold. A real introspection of Waters' life, the album combines fiction and reality through the story of Pink, a young rock star (who in fact symbolizes Waters himself) prey to his demons and who, little by little, builds a chimerical wall around him to cut himself off from the world. This particularly ambitious rock opera essentially bears the emotional mark of Roger Waters (evocation of his absent father, his abusive mother and the rigidity of a school system that traumatized him for life). The Wall was first remastered in 1994 in the UK by EMI. Then in 1997 the Columbia firm remastered the album, with better sound quality than EMI's, to be released in the United States, Canada, Australia, South America and Japan. Shortly after the album's twentieth anniversary, Capitol relaunched the 1997 edition in the United States in 2000 taking over the European remastering, and EMI did the same in Canada, Australia, South America and the United States, Japan. In 2011, the album was painstakingly remastered by James Guthrie (the sound engineer and co-producer of the original album) and Joel Plante, at das boot recording studio located in Lake Tahoe, California. © Qobuz (GG) 

The second in a series of catalog re-recordings and revisions, Red [Taylor's Version] finds Taylor Swift revisiting her self-styled pop breakthrough Red. Released nine years after the original album, Red [Taylor's Version] does bear a few signs of maturation, notably on the explicitly pop moments, such as "I Knew You Were Trouble," "22," and "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together," which seem ever so slightly muted when compared to the 2012 versions. Nevertheless, much of the point of the re-recordings is to get these new versions as close to the original versions as possible so they can be easily licensed and to that end, Swift succeeds admirably. The more interesting part of Red [Taylor's Version] arrives in the second half when Swift records songs left in the vault, including "Better Man" -- a song she gave to Little Big Town, who won a Grammy for Best Country/Duo Group Performance in 2018 for their recording -- and duets with Phoebe Bridgers ("Nothing New"), Chris Stapleton ("I Bet You Think About Me"), and Ed Sheeran ("Run"). The highlight of these is a ten-minute version of "All Too Well," a bitter ballad that was already one of the peaks of Red and is now turned into an epic kiss-off. This, along with excavated songs, are reason enough for Swift to revisit Red and they, not the re-recordings, are the reason to return to Red [Taylor's Version].© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

It’s important to remember that before becoming a gold-standard pop star, Taylor Swift grew up on Nashville country music. Music City's folklore now seems a long way off for the thirty-year-old singer. However, Taylor Swift has never stopped dipping her pen into the same ink as her cowgirl elders, perfectly handling romance, heartbreak, introspection, sociopolitical commentary and personal experiences, such as when she sang of her mother’s cancer on Soon You’ll Get Better… It was in lockdown, with restricted means and limited casting, that she put together Folklore, released in the heart of summer 2020. The first surprise here is Aaron Dessner on production. By choosing The National’s guitarist, whom she considers one of her idols, Swift has opted for a musician with sure-footed tastes and boosted her credibility among indie music fans. She hammers this home on Exile with Justin ‘Bon Iver’ Vernon (the album’s only duet), a close friend of Dessner's with whom he formed Big Red Machine.This surprising, even unusual album for Swift is by no means a calculated attempt to flirt with the hipsters. And it really is unusual for her! No pop bangers, nor the usual dig aimed at Kanye West; the album is free of supercharged beats and has delicate instrumentation (piano, acoustic guitar, Mellotron, mandolin, slides…). Folklore toes a perfect line between silky neo-folk and dreamy rock. It’s as if the star had tucked herself away in a cabin in the forest to dream up new ideas, much like Bon Iver did in his early days… By laying her music bare and relieving it of its usual chart music elements, Taylor Swift has added more substance to her discography. This is clear on August, which would never have resonated as well if it had been produced by a Max Martin type… Upon announcing the album, Swift wrote online: “Before this year I probably would’ve overthought when to release this music at the ‘perfect’ time, but the times we’re living in keep reminding me that nothing is guaranteed. My gut is telling me that if you make something you love, you should just put it out into the world.” A wise decision for a beautiful and mature record. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

1989 is the album that fully, forever made Taylor Swift a pop artist, leaving the last crossover vestiges of her country career in the Nashville dirt as she embraced her new life in New York—retro synths and all. Remade nearly nine years later,—the fourth in Swift's extraordinary reclamation of her music after bitterly losing her masters in a business deal gone very wrong—1989 (Taylor's Version) continues the fascinating trend of hearing an older, presumably wiser star reimagine her own history. But while the other records have had noticeable tweaks, sharpening production quality and instrumentation and, most notably, adding several minutes to a version of the song "All Too Well" from Red, this time around the changes are practically untraceable. Sure, Swift's voice sounds a bit more mature, but it doesn't change things much. And unlike on the other remakes, there are no new guest duets or harmonies. So what it really comes down to here are five added "from the vault songs"—and the specter of Swift's onetime boyfriend, Harry Styles. Though the very public relationship didn't last long, it ended in a way that fueled her creative juices. "Style" and "Out of the Woods," from the original album, are both said to be about the former One Direction pop star. New track "Is It Over Now" feels like a coda to "Out of the Woods," once again referencing the ex-couple's famous snowmobile accident ("When you lost control/ Red blood, white snow"); the line "Blue dress on a boat" nods to a famous 2013 paparazzi photo of Swift all alone on a boat after supposedly breaking up with Styles while on vacation in the British Virgin Islands. Both songs are co-written with and produced by Jack Antonoff, and his tell-tale '80s New Romantic and New Wave flourishes are unmistakable. It's hard to imagine the Swift of 1989, however, able to summon up the "Oh lord" growl she lets loose on "Is It Over Now," before singing "I think about jumping off of very tall somethings/ Just to see you come running." "Now That We Don't Talk" is a bundle of nervous energy that also seems to be about Styles, as Swift tries to convince herself she's better off without him: "I don't have to pretend I like acid rock/ Or that I'd like to be on a mega yacht/ With important men who think important thoughts." Antonoff was behind the boards for that one, as well as the excellent "Slut!" and twinkling "Suburban Legends." Despite the former's exclamation point, it is Lana Del Rey-dreamy and completely self-aware ("Flamingo pink, Sunrise Boulevard/ Clink, clink, being this young is art"). One of these things is not like the others, though, and that's "Say Don't Go"—a co-write with Diane Warren that casts Swift in a deeper, huskier, more darkly-shadowed place. It's a whole different take on the '80s than the rest of the keen, bright album, like something you can imagine Warren acolyte Brandi Carlile crooning. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

True Blue is the album where Madonna truly became Madonna the Superstar -- the endlessly ambitious, fearlessly provocative entertainer who knew how to outrage, spark debates, get good reviews -- and make good music while she's at it. To complain that True Blue is calculated is to not get Madonna -- that's a large part of what she does, and she is exceptional at it, but she also makes fine music. What's brilliant about True Blue is that she does both here, using the music to hook in critics just as she's baiting a mass audience with such masterstrokes as "Papa Don't Preach," where she defiantly states she's keeping her baby. Her real trick here, however, is transcending her status as a dance-pop diva by consciously recalling classic girl group pop ("True Blue," "Jimmy Jimmy") to snag the critics, while deepening the dance grooves ("Open Your Heart," "Where's the Party"), touching on Latin rhythms ("La Isla Bonita"), making a plea for world peace ("Love Makes the World Go Round"), and delivering a tremendous ballad that rewrites the rules of adult contemporary crossover ("Live to Tell"). It's even harder to have the entire album play as an organic, cohesive work. Certainly, there's some calculation behind the entire thing, but what matters is the end result, one of the great dance-pop albums, a record that demonstrates Madonna's true skills as a songwriter, record-maker, provocateur, and entertainer through its wide reach, accomplishment, and sheer sense of fun.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Since the advent of acid jazz in the mid-'80s, the many electronic-jazz hybrids to come down the pipe have steadily grown more mature, closer to a balanced fusion that borrows the spontaneity and emphasis on group interaction of classic jazz while still emphasizing the groove and elastic sound of electronic music. For his second album, French producer Ludovic Navarre expanded the possibilities of his template for jazzy house by recruiting a sextet of musicians to solo over his earthy productions. The opener "Rose Rouge" is an immediate highlight, as an understated Marlena Shaw vocal sample ("I want you to get together/put your hands together one time"), trance-state piano lines, and a ride-on-the-rhythm drum program frames solos by trumpeter Pascal Ohse and baritone Claudio de Qeiroz. For "Montego Bay Spleen," Navarre pairs an angular guitar solo by Ernest Ranglin with a deep-groove dub track, complete with phased effects and echoey percussion. "Land Of..." moves from a Hammond- and horn-led soul-jazz stomp into Caribbean territory, marked by more hints of dub and the expressive Latin percussion of Carneiro. Occasionally, Navarre's programming (sampled or otherwise) grows a bit repetitious -- even for dance fans, to say nothing of the jazzbo crowd attracted by the album's Blue Note tag. Though it is just another step on the way to a perfect blend of jazz and electronic, Tourist is an excellent one.© John Bush /TiVo

Taylor Swift left her longtime home of Big Machine in 2018, setting up shop at Republic Records. Usually, such changes in label are only of interest to trainspotters, but once Swift departed Big Machine, the label was acquired by a group owned by Scooter Braun, a nemesis of Taylor's. The singer attempted to regain rights to her original recordings to no avail, leaving her with one option: she could re-record her records, thereby undercutting the value of her catalog in terms of syncs, placements, and licensing. Swift carried through on the promise in April 2021, releasing Fearless (Taylor's Version), a brand-new version of her 2008 breakthrough. Swift recorded all 19 songs from the 2009 Platinum Edition of Fearless, adding a new version of "Today Was a Fairytale" from the Valentine's Day soundtrack, then six additional songs ("From The Vault") -- songs that were written around the time of Fearless but not released. These tracks are of greatest interest, as they certainly have a younger, dewy-eyed perspective but were recorded with Aaron Dessner and Jack Antonoff, the producers of Swift's mature work. The blend of youth and experience is appealing, and it can also be heard in the newer renditions of the Fearless material. Swift largely re-creates the arrangements and feel of the original 2008 album, yet her voice and phrasing has aged, giving the music a hint of bittersweet gravity. That said, it's only a hint; Fearless (Taylor's Version) serves the purpose of offering new versions that could be substituted for the originals for licensing purposes. It's to Swift's credit that the album is an absorbing (if long) listen anyway.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

While he was still leader of progressive rock group Genesis, Phil Collins launched his solo career and released Face Value in 1981. A record which quickly proves to be one of the biggest musical surprises of the year, and one which allows the British artist to begin his ascension as one of the biggest stars of the 1980s. Thanks to the deep and passionate voice of the singer, as well as the numerous pop/soul ballads and his talent for aggressive rock'n'roll, this record has sold (and is currently selling) better than any installment by Genesis. The Town House studio recording sessions in London have obviously greatly inspired Collins who experiments with many studio techniques and leaves plenty of room for his own rhythm guitar, in spite of the fact that he is widely known and admired for his drumming skills. He also takes advantage of his own independence to do a tribute to black American music which is so dear to him, as he invite Phenix Horns, the prestigious brass section for Earth, Wind & Fire, to perform on the record. ©LG/Qobuz

The yang to Astral Weeks' yin, the brilliant Moondance is every bit as much a classic as its predecessor; Van Morrison's first commercially successful solo effort, it retains the previous album's deeply spiritual thrust but transcends its bleak, cathartic intensity to instead explore themes of renewal and redemption. Light, soulful, and jazzy, Moondance opens with the sweetly nostalgic "And It Stoned Me," the song's pastoral imagery establishing the dominant lyrical motif recurring throughout the album -- virtually every track exults in natural wonder, whether it's the nocturnal magic celebrated by the title cut or the unlimited promise offered in "Brand New Day." At the heart of the record is "Caravan," an incantatory ode to the power of radio; equally stirring is the majestic "Into the Mystic," a song of such elemental beauty and grace as to stand as arguably the quintessential Morrison moment.© Jason Ankeny /TiVo

As early as his first official studio release, 2011’s Section.80, Kendrick Lamar’s albums have been intricate and conceptual, constructed more like ambitious theatrical narratives than mere collections of songs. Fifth album Mr. Morale & the Big Steppers follows this trajectory as a double-album’s worth of interconnecting statements that are relentlessly complex, emotionally dense, and sometimes uncomfortably raw. Unlike the lush, spacious sonics of DAMN. or the life-affirming funk of To Pimp a Butterfly, Mr. Morale is scattered both in terms of musical approaches and lyrical perspectives. The album’s first half is particularly messy, with themes of trauma, grief, society, and Kendrick’s own uneasy relationship with fame all overlapping. His technical abilities are stunning and versatile as ever, but the frantic flows and jarring beat switches of “United in Grief” begin an angsty catharsis that runs throughout many of the tracks. “N95” is a seething cultural critique where Lamar spits bile in multiple directions over a bleakly catchy, bass-driven instrumental. Issues with lust addiction and infidelity are put under a microscope on the tense and minimal “Worldwide Steppers,” and Lamar depicts his troubled relationship with his father in painful detail on “Father Time,” which features a gorgeous vocal performance by Sampha on the hook. There’s further exploration of deeply personal family history on “Auntie Diaries,” which chronicles Lamar coming to understand the experiences two of his relatives had with transitioning gender identities. Throughout the album he funnels all of these experiences inward, seeking to grow through his own changes and the changes he sees around him. This shows up as a dismissal of celebrity on “Rich Spirit” or as striving for self-acceptance on “Count Me Out.” The album’s quick musical and thematic shifts can make for an uneven flow. The floating R&B instrumental and tender introspection of “Die Hard” come just a few tracks before cacophonous swirls of piano on “Rich - Interlude” and the jagged cosmic hip-hop of Ghostface Killah and Summer Walker collaboration “Purple Hearts.” The album’s intensity reaches a full boil on “We Cry Together,” a song that sounds like live audio footage of the most vicious couple’s argument imaginable, and reaches the same levels of ugliness as Eminem’s “Kim,” a clear reference point. As always, the production is immaculate and Lamar is joined by a host of industry giants, with contributions coming from Baby Keem, Thundercat, and even a vocal cameo from Portishead’s Beth Gibbons on the stunning sadness of “Mother I Sober.” While not as immediately accessible as some of the work that came before it, there’s value in both the harrowing and enlightening moments here. Lamar puts everything on the table with Mr. Morale & the Big Steppers, trying to get closer to his unfiltered personal truth, and creating some of his most challenging, expectation-defying work in the process. While not always an easy listen, the album shows more of its intention as it goes, and ultimately makes sense as the next logical step forward in Lamar’s increasingly multi-dimensional artistic evolution.© Fred Thomas /TiVo