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

Out of the Blue may not have been Electric Light Orchestra's best album (that would be its immediate predecessor, the taut and driving New World Record), but it was absolutely their most-est album. Coming off the creative, critical, and commercial breakthrough of New World Record, ELO's Jeff Lynne clearly felt at the height of his powers, and for Out of the Blue, he delivered a trifecta of "overconfident '70s rocker" signifiers: 1) a double album that 2) featured a side-long "song suite" and 3) a shocking amount of novelty numbers and instrumentals. And while it may not have been surprising that Out of the Blue was hugely successful—it went multi-platinum on the backs of some of the band's most memorable hits, including the now-immortal "Mr. Blue Sky"—it is remarkable how well the material holds up decades later. Lynne's unabashed Beatles-worship gets a robust airing, but it's here more than any other ELO record that his love of the Fab Four is so artfully fused into everything from prog-rock symphonics, proto-disco rhythms, lush synth-pop, and, er, whale song. It's absolutely pretentious, but in a beguiling and infectious way that winds up making it remarkably personal and highly idiosyncratic. "Turn to Stone" charges out of the gate and sets the tone for the entirety of Out of the Blue, combining rich soundscapes, expansive arrangements, and earworm melodies. The album also features the epic "Concerto for a Rainy Day," a four-part suite that is literally about the weather, featuring "Standin' in the Rain," "Big Wheels," "Summer and Lightning," and concluding with "Mr. Blue Sky," a song that has since become synonymous with ELO's signature sound. Of course, there are some overreaching missteps—the album would be fine without the weird and silly Tarzan effects of "Jungle" and the instrumental burbles of "The Whale" would have been more appropriate as a b-side bonus—but they are more than compensated for by the moments where Lynne's ego pushes him and the band to unexpected greatness. The dizzying mariachi melodrama of "Across the Border" or the dreamy swoon of "Starlight" would have been attempted by few other acts in 1977, and only ELO could deliver them so convincingly.  When it came to radio hits, cuts like "Sweet Talkin' Woman" and even "Wild West Hero" are maddeningly catchy but also supremely weird. Of course, subsequent releases would find diminishing returns by trying to recreate the magic of Out of the Blue, but for this one bold, baroque moment, it seemed that Jeff Lynne and ELO had absolutely defined the future of artful pop-rock. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

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

The Police never really broke up, they just stopped working together -- largely because they just couldn't stand playing together anymore and partially because Sting was itching to establish himself as a serious musician/songwriter on his own terms. Anxious to shed the mantle of pop star, he camped out at Eddy Grant's studio, picked up the guitar, and raided Wynton Marsalis' band for his new combo -- thereby instantly consigning his solo debut, The Dream of the Blue Turtles, to the critical shorthand of Sting's jazz record. Which is partially true (that's probably the best name for the meandering instrumental title track), but that gives the impression that this is really risky music, when he did, after all, rely on musicians who, at that stage, were revivalists just developing their own style, and then had them jam on mock-jazz grooves -- or, in the case of Branford Marsalis, layer soprano sax lines on top of pop songs. This, however, is just the beginning of the pretensions layered throughout The Dream of the Blue Turtles. Only twice does he delve into straightforward love songs -- the lovely measured "Consider Me Gone" and the mournful closer, "Fortress Around Your Heart" -- preferring to consider love in the abstract ("If You Love Somebody Set Them Free," one of his greatest solo singles, and the childish, faux-reggae singalong "Love Is the Seventh Wave"), write about children in war and in coal mines, revive a Police tune about heroin, ponder whether "Russians love their children too," and wander the streets of New Orleans as the vampire Lestat. This is a serious-minded album, but it's undercut by its very approach -- the glossy fusion that coats the entire album, the occasional grabs at worldbeat, and studious lyrics seem less pretentious largely because they're overshadowed by such bewilderingly showy moves as adapting Prokofiev for "Russians" and calling upon Anne Rice for inspiration. And that's the problem with the record: with every measure, every verse, Sting cries out for the respect of a composer, not a pop star, and it gets to be a little overwhelming when taken as a whole. As a handful of individual cuts -- "Fortress," "Consider Me Gone," "If You Love Somebody," "Children's Crusade" -- he proves that he's subtler and craftier than his peers, but only when he reins in his desire to show the class how much he's learned.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

The Police never really broke up, they just stopped working together -- largely because they just couldn't stand playing together anymore and partially because Sting was itching to establish himself as a serious musician/songwriter on his own terms. Anxious to shed the mantle of pop star, he camped out at Eddy Grant's studio, picked up the guitar, and raided Wynton Marsalis' band for his new combo -- thereby instantly consigning his solo debut, The Dream of the Blue Turtles, to the critical shorthand of Sting's jazz record. Which is partially true (that's probably the best name for the meandering instrumental title track), but that gives the impression that this is really risky music, when he did, after all, rely on musicians who, at that stage, were revivalists just developing their own style, and then had them jam on mock-jazz grooves -- or, in the case of Branford Marsalis, layer soprano sax lines on top of pop songs. This, however, is just the beginning of the pretensions layered throughout The Dream of the Blue Turtles. Only twice does he delve into straightforward love songs -- the lovely measured "Consider Me Gone" and the mournful closer, "Fortress Around Your Heart" -- preferring to consider love in the abstract ("If You Love Somebody Set Them Free," one of his greatest solo singles, and the childish, faux-reggae singalong "Love Is the Seventh Wave"), write about children in war and in coal mines, revive a Police tune about heroin, ponder whether "Russians love their children too," and wander the streets of New Orleans as the vampire Lestat. This is a serious-minded album, but it's undercut by its very approach -- the glossy fusion that coats the entire album, the occasional grabs at worldbeat, and studious lyrics seem less pretentious largely because they're overshadowed by such bewilderingly showy moves as adapting Prokofiev for "Russians" and calling upon Anne Rice for inspiration. And that's the problem with the record: with every measure, every verse, Sting cries out for the respect of a composer, not a pop star, and it gets to be a little overwhelming when taken as a whole. As a handful of individual cuts -- "Fortress," "Consider Me Gone," "If You Love Somebody," "Children's Crusade" -- he proves that he's subtler and craftier than his peers, but only when he reins in his desire to show the class how much he's learned.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Ella Fitzgerald's idea to sing the songbooks of major writers proved smart, savvy, and artful. By the time she began to record Sings the Harold Arlen Song Book in 1960, she had sung the songbooks of Duke Ellington, Rodgers & Hart, and Irving Berlin. This relaxed and tastefully arranged set showcases Fitzgerald in her prime, confidently engaging 28 of Arlen's best songs. Familiar pieces like "One for My Baby" and "That Old Black Magic" make appearances, along with all-time classics like "Stormy Weather" and "Over the Rainbow." On this latter tune, she adds the front verses, an appealing addition that few will be familiar with. Billy May's orchestra lays down a quiet mix of horns and strings that perfectly supports Fitzgerald on songs like "When the Sun Comes Out" and "Happiness Is a Thing Called Joe." Four bonus tracks, including two alternative cuts, spice up the package. A particular oddity, "Ding Dong! The Witch Is Dead," converts surprisingly well into big-band jazz. Sings the Harold Arlen Song Book is an exquisite album, a classic in vocal jazz, and one of Fitzgerald's best recordings. © Ronnie D. Lankford Jr. /TiVo

The rowdy, retro-rockers' third release in two years, Family Tree delivers a loose but punchy set of crispy Deep South confections that radiate both swagger and soul. The follow-up to 2016's full-length Kentucky and 2017's covers EP Black to Blues, the 13-track set administers copious amounts of greasy Southern rock riffage, and like its predecessor, it was self-produced and tracked at Barrick Recording in Glasgow, Kentucky -- the band recorded their eponymous debut there in 2006. Freed from the constraints of a major label, Kentucky saw Black Stone Cherry returning to their roots, and Family Tree is a like-minded beast, drawing as much from Memphis soul as it does from the boogie-blasted sweet spot between ZZ Top and David Lee Roth-era Van Halen. The latter disposition looms large throughout, with the one-two punch of lead singles "Bad Habit" and "Burnin'" piling on the muscle and aiming for the nosebleed seats, but "My Last Breath", with its breezy electric piano, Stax-inspired brass, and heartfelt lyrics aimed at loved ones both here and departed, feels better suited for a Bloody Mary-heavy Gospel brunch. Elsewhere, "Ain't Nobody" staggers, shimmies, and shakes with all the bluesy bravado of Led Zeppelin's "Custard Pie, while "Southern Fried Saturday Night," with its snarling talk-box lead and good-time country boy grandstanding, feels like a stadium-sized Tim McGraw jam performed by Alice in Chains. Despite some subtle shifts in tone, the rest of Family Tree follows suit, doling out the decibels and hard rock tropes with workmanlike precision, while maintaining a homespun sense of community that appeals to anybody who has put in a full week, and just wants to let some air out of their tires.© James Christopher Monger /TiVo

Jeff Lynne revived Electric Light Orchestra in 2015 -- due to legal reasons, they were now called Jeff Lynne's ELO -- releasing a comeback album called Alone in the Universe and steadily mounting a return to the road. Several dates happened in 2016, but the tour reached its apex in June 2017, when the group played in front of 60,000 people at London's Wembley Stadium. Released five months after that June 24 gig, Wembley or Bust -- which was accompanied by a concert film -- features the entirety of the gig, and if it's not heard too closely, it could sometimes be mistaken for an ELO greatest-hits album. Lynne re-creates the arrangements of his studio work throughout the concert; even when the Traveling Wilburys' "Handle with Care" is hauled out, it sounds like it did on record. The vocals are where the seams show, as Lynne is a little rougher and lower than he was at his peak. Although this is a noticeable difference, it's hardly enough to mar what amounts to a thoroughly enjoyable -- and perhaps a tad triumphant -- return to live performance for Jeff Lynne.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

The biggest criticism of The Bootleg Series, Vol. 5: Bob Dylan Live 1975 -- the third installment in Columbia/Legacy's excavation of the exhaustive Bob Dylan vaults (the first was a box set, containing three volumes) -- is that it's a compilation of highlights from his Rolling Thunder Revue of 1975, one that doesn't set out to replicate a set list but instead offers two discs and 22 tracks from this fabled tour. Apart from that, there's very little to complain about on this superlative set, which offers the first official release of Rolling Thunder material. Yes, this had been heavily bootlegged over the decades, plus it was documented on Dylan's notoriously unwatchable film Renaldo & Clara and there was Hard Rain, a collection culled from the post-Thunder 1976 tour that was similar but sour and nowhere near as good the 1975 material, as this superb set illustrates. Hearing this is a revelation, even for serious Dylan watchers -- those so serious to own several bootlegs, even a full shelf of Dylan, but not as obsessive as those who track Bob's every move -- and those who aren't as dedicated, yet still harbor a serious interest, will find this equally absorbing, since this is simply tremendous. It has become legend that Dylan will change arrangements and switch lyrics at the drop of a hat, which was evident on his jaunt with the Band in 1974, preserved for posterity on Before the Flood. Even so, he's looser, wilder, and more alive in this careening, thrilling album, a record where "A Hard Rain's a-Gonna Fall" gallops along as if it were "Leopard Skin Pill-Box Hat." As that suggests, the wildest thing about this is the electric cuts, where an unwieldy band turns out an overpowering sound that sounds inevitable, as if it's the only way these songs could be played, even when you've heard these songs countless times before in other arrangements. The acoustic moments don't pack the same charge, nor do they contain many of his duets with Joan Baez, yet they're intimate, passionate versions of the songs. In fact, there's not a bad moment here, and if it doesn't replicate the Rolling Thunder tour list to the letter, it does indeed capture the essence of this legendary stint, which is why it's necessary for every serious fan.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

The son of a traveling church minister, Northern Irish singer/songwriter Foy Vance spent the first five years of his life in the deep south, and he explores those roots on From Muscle Shoals. The first installment of a two-part dive into roots music, which also includes the Americana-leaning To Memphis, the ten-track set was recorded at the iconic FAME Studios in Alabama and features a seasoned crew of session players including original "Swampers" Spooner Oldham (keys) and David Hood (bass). Comprised of ten cuts, two of which ("Be with Me" and "Make It Rain") are punched-up versions of earlier works, Vance's 24-grit vocals and bluesy swagger go a long way in selling the material, as does the stellar musicianship of all involved, but in attempting to emulate a classic soul album, From Muscle Shoals -- a very on-the-nose name -- feels more like a facsimile. A workmanlike pastiche of well-oiled grooves, melodies, and lyrics that sound like they were run through a Stax Records song generator, Vance and company do their best to inject the proceedings with some zeal, but the shadows of Wilson Pickett, Otis Redding, and Percy Sledge loom too large. Like Van Morrison, soul and R&B have always been at the forefront of Vance's particular brand of Irish-American folk, but From Muscle Shoals leans too hard in one direction and ultimately fails to distinguish itself from its source material.© James Christopher Monger /TiVo

Recorded and released in 1961, Judy at Carnegie Hall is one of the greatest live albums of all time, and the greatest of Garland's career. There's true electricity in each song, and her renditions of "That's Entertainment," "The Man That Got Away," and "Come Rain or Come Shine" will give you goose bumps, they're so loaded with emotion. With relentless verve, Garland takes on her entire musical catalogue with astonishing aplomb. There is little sign of the decades of self-abuse which had left her frail by the early '60s. But what we are fortunate enough to have is the magic and youth of her voice. Especially poignant are "You Go to My Head," "Just You, Just Me," and her reading of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow."© Lindsay Planer /TiVo