For their first album in 18 years, Tears for Fears sound completely revitalized and as beautiful and engaging as ever. Remarkably, it's fueled in part by the 2017 death of Roland Orzabal's wife and partner of many years and his denial about losing her. "I think that when you've been close to someone for decades, they are living within you as well as without," he has said. "And consciously I did not believe she would die, though subconsciously I was, without doubt, preparing for the inevitable, arming myself against the future shock." The title track is shimmering and mysterious, with strident drums and alien beeps but also vocals like a soothing balm. "Winter done, they'll soon be gone/ From this unforgiving place/ To that vague and distant void/ Where the sunlight splits the eye," Orzabal sings of that threshold from life to death. It is heartbreaking, but also hopeful. "Please Be Happy" is incredibly candid—and one of their prettiest tracks: "These days it's like a wave is breaking over you/ Dragging you in with the undertow/ If you lay among the graves you will see other ghosts." And "No Small Thing," about facing the heartbreak of losing your love, is a stunner. Stripped-back acoustic guitar builds to the dreamy psychedelia Tears for Fears has always done so well, the whole thing swelling to a bursting-the-seams crescendo by the end. "Long, Long, Long Time" shows how the duo have always been masters of dynamics, its hymn-like organ giving way to a monster chorus; the song also reminds you just how much Sam Smith owes Curt Smith for their angelic style. "Master Plan" giddily dips into the band's longtime love of Sgt. Pepper-era Beatles, and "Break the Man" is catchy jangle pop touched with moody strings. "My Demons," meanwhile, is a nasty piece of work, in the best way (one akin to Depeche Mode's "Personal Jesus"), with Orzabal drilling the doomed lyrics: "Why is my name in lights when my name is spelled wrong … People always find you when your cell phone is on." Smith comes in to sweeten up the chorus, but he sounds thrillingly stretched to his limits as the rhythm gallops like a sweating horse. Put The Tipping Point on the shelf next to Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking for times of crisis. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Michael Crétu's attempt at fusing everything from easy listening sex music and hip-hop rhythms to centuries-old Gregorian chants couldn't have been more designed to tweak the nose of high art, a joyously crass stab straight at a mainstream, do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars. The result is something that shouldn't exist, but in its own way results in as much of a cultural scramble and explosion as anything Public Enemy were doing around the same time, crossing over the Euro-disco and new age spheres with style. Credit Crétu for an open ear for whatever works, which is precisely why "Sadeness," the first part of a longer track called "Principles of Lust," turned into a fluke worldwide hit. Snippets of monks invoking the Almighty effortlessly glide in and out of a polite but still strong breakbeat, shimmering, atmospheric synth and flute lines and a Frenchwoman whispering in a way that sounds distinctly more carnal than spiritual (as her gasps for breath elsewhere make clear). Guitar and male vocals add to the album version's try-anything-that-works approach, as do attempts at shuffling jazz beats and horns. If nothing quite equals that prime moment elsewhere on the album, MCMXC A.D. still trips out on the possibilities as it can, right from the opening "Voice of Enigma," inviting all listeners to sit back, relax, and take a gentle trip. Crétu certainly isn't trying to hide anything -- "Callas Went Away" goes right ahead and adds a sample of Maria Callas herself to the chirping birds and soft beats, while elsewhere the flutes, beats, monks, and French voices merrily go about their glossy business. About the only thing missing is the kitchen sink, making the entire album the "MacArthur Park" of its day.© Ned Raggett /TiVo

"I'm back on Boogie Street," declares Leonard Cohen on two different songs in this collection, titled with characteristic understatement Ten New Songs. (Previous album titles have included Songs of Leonard Cohen, Songs from a Room, and Recent Songs.) More poet than musician, Cohen has, since his early albums, tended to rely on collaborations with musicians to put together his music: John Lissauer on 1974's New Skin for the Old Ceremony, Henry Lewy on 1979's Recent Songs, and, notoriously, Phil Spector on 1977's Death of a Ladies' Man. On Ten New Songs, his partner is former backup singer Sharon Robinson, who co-wrote "Everybody Knows" on 1988's I'm Your Man and earns co-writing credit on all the material here. She has also conjured the musical backgrounds ("All tracks arranged, programmed, and performed by Sharon Robinson," reads the credit), and she harmonizes with Cohen throughout. But all collaborators (even Spector) are in the service of Cohen's poetic vision, which remains the dominant element on this elegiac set. After a restatement of purpose on "In My Secret Life," he turns in a moody set of reflections on decline, even alluding to fellow poet Robert Frost's famous "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening" in "A Thousand Kisses Deep": "And maybe I had miles to drive/And promises to keep/You ditch it all to stay alive/A thousand kisses deep." The songs are full of leave-taking, with titles like "Alexandra Leaving" and "You Have Loved Enough" accurately describing the tone, concluding with the prayer-like valedictory "The Land of Plenty," which gently remonstrates with the consumer society the poet has always engaged and rejected: "May the lights in the land of plenty/Shine on the truth some day." Even in the quietude of Cohen's catalog, the result seems like a coda.© William Ruhlmann /TiVo

When the pandemic drove Kristian Matsson from New York City back to his farm in Sweden he felt enveloped by silence, stating frankly in his current bio, "I lost my imagination." Fortunately, when the singer-songwriter/guitarist who goes under the nom de stage The Tallest Man on Earth began to tour again his creative dam burst: "When I'm in motion, I can focus on my instinct, have my daydreams again." After writing twenty songs in ten days, some of which became his seventh full length Henry St., Matsson, initially a throwback Dylan devotee, decided that for the first time in his career he needed a band around him to flesh out his creations. It's a welcome new flavor, although, other than drummer TJ Maiani, who occasionally makes his presence felt—mostly via brushes—players like Ryan Gustafson of Sylvan Esso (guitar, lap steel), Bon Iver's CJ Camerieri (horns) and Rob Moose (strings) are mostly just background as Matsson's voice, consistently able to reach for emotion and urgency, is the star here, along with the songs, many of them with appealing melodic turns, like the opener "Bless You." In "Major League" he plays a jaunty banjo and sings lines about Cleveland, a Randy Newman song and how "I'm just waiting on a word from America." His sometimes home in the New World reappears in the title track as this "little dude" ponders his physical and emotional travels, "In the scape of songs/ I know I'm wrong/ I just feel it right/ I swim the world/ In my wishing well/ I just don't know if I can take it anymore." After Dylan, the strong and often high voiced Mattson, whose phrasing is occasionally reminiscent of Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, is also a student of '60s troubadours, borrowing the attitude and bounce of early Cat Stevens in "In Your Garden Still." Determined to pound on eternal and unanswerable questions until some meaning seeps out, in "Italy" he admits, "I know that I stay with the life I dream and part of it shows" before coming to the only honest answer possible, "But I don't know of a way out in the river of time." Persistently inquiring in each song on Henry St., Matsson the searcher continues his quest. © Robert Baird/Qobuz

This 1978 album finds producer/Svengali Frank Farian starting to push his pop-disco attraction Boney M. into new and interesting musical territory. The songs are still very much disco tracks with an emphasis on bubblegum pop hooks, but Farian works some interesting musical flavors into the mix: "Painter Man" (a cover of a track by mod rockers Creation) effectively pits a series of heavy, distorted hard rock guitar riffs against its danceable beat, and "Brown Girl in the Ring" adds some distinctive steel drums into its rhythmic calypso-pop mixture. However, the oddest and most unusual and interesting combination of musical elements arrives with "Rasputin," a tribute to the legendary Russian historical figure that uses balalaikas to create its textured rhythm guitar hook. Nightflight to Venus also spawned a major international hit with "Rivers of Babylon," which mixes religious lyrics and a folk song melody with a pronounced beat to create an instantly accessible pop hymn. The other tracks include a few less than colorful moments ("Never Change Lovers in the Middle of the Night" could have been performed by any disco outfit), but Nightflight to Venus is an overall success thanks to the group's strong harmonies and the slick production from Farian, which keeps everything moving at a fast clip. The end result is one of the strongest albums in the Boney M. catalog, and a treat for anyone who likes dance music that is sugary sweet.© Donald A. Guarisco /TiVo

Rough Mix, Pete Townshend's 1977 collaboration with former Small Faces and Faces songwriter and bass player Ronnie Lane, combines the loose, rollicking folk-rock of Lane's former band, Slim Chance, with touches of country, folk, and New Orleans rock & roll, along with Townshend's own trademark style. Lane's tunes, especially the beautiful "Annie," possess an understated charm, while Townshend, with songs such as "Misunderstood," the Meher Baba-inspired "Keep Me Turning," and the strange love song "My Baby Gives It Away," delivers some of the best material of his solo career. Rough Mix stands as a minor masterpiece and an overlooked gem in both artists' vast bodies of work. Eric Clapton, John Entwistle, and Charlie Watts guest.© Brett Hartenbach /TiVo

Rivers of Heresy is the debut album from Empire State Bastard, the extreme metal project of Biffy Clyro's Simon Neil and Oceansize's Mike Vennart. It sees the duo deliver a fast-paced mix of blistering guitars, brutal vocals, and pounding drums supplied by Slayer's Dave Lombardo. The tracks "Harvest" and "Stutter" are included.© Rich Wilson /TiVo

Recorded in 1964 immediately after leaving the Miles Davis Quintet, Sam Rivers' Fuchsia Swing Song is one of the more auspicious debuts the label released in the mid-'60s. Rivers was a seasoned session player (his excellent work on Larry Young's Into Somethin' is a case in point), and a former member of Herb Pomeroy's Big Band before he went out with Davis. By the time of his debut, Rivers had been deep under the influence of Coltrane and Coleman, but wasn't willing to give up the blues. Hence the sound on Fuchsia Swing Song is that of an artist at once self-assured and in transition. Using a rhythm section that included Tony Williams (whose Life Time he had guested on), pianist Jaki Byard, and bassist Ron Carter, Rivers took the hard bop and blues of his roots and poured them through the avant-garde collander. The title, opening track is a case in point. Rivers opens with an angular figure that is quickly translated by the band into sweeping, bopping blues. Rivers legato is lightning quick and his phrasing touches upon Coleman Hawkins, Sonny Rollins, Coleman, and Coltrane, but his embouchure is his own. He strikes the balance and then takes off on both sides of the aisle. Byard's builds in minor key, rhythmic figures just behind the tenor. "Downstairs Blues Upstairs" sounds, initially anyway, like it might have come out of the Davis book so deep is its blue root. But courtesy of Byard and Williams, Rivers goes to the left after only four choruses, moving onto the ledge a bit at a time, running knotty arpeggios through the center of the melody and increasingly bending his notes into succeeding intervals while shifting keys and times signatures, but he never goes completely over the ledge. The most difficult cut on the date is "Luminous Monolith," showcases a swing-like figure introducing the melody. Eight bars in, the syncopation of the rhythm sections begins to stutter step around the time, as Byard makes harmonic adjustments with dense chords for Rivers to play off. This is a highly recommended date. Other than on 1965's Contours, Rivers never played quite like this again.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

"[A] metal symphony, replete with Turilli's galloping solos, Lione's touch-the-heavens vocals and intricate orchestration..." © TiVo

In 1973, when the movie The Harder They Come was released, reggae was not on the radar screen of American pop culture. The soundtrack went a ways toward changing that situation. It is a collection of consistently excellent early reggae songs by artists who went on to thrive with reggae's increased popularity, and others for whom this is the most well-known vehicle. Jimmy Cliff is both the star of the movie and the headliner on the soundtrack. He contributes three excellent songs: the hymnal "Many Rivers to Cross," "You Can Get It If You Really Want," and "The Harder They Come" (the latter two are repeated at the end of the album, but you probably wanted to hear them again anyway). Interestingly, the better production values of his songs actually seems to detract from them when compared to the rougher, but less sanitized, mixes of the other tracks. All the songs on this collection are excellent, but some truly stand out. Toots & the Maytals deliver two high-energy songs with "Sweet and Dandy" and "Pressure Drop" (covered by the Clash among others). Scotty develops a mellow, loping groove on "Stop That Train" (not the same as the Wailers' song by the same name) and the Slickers prove on "Johnny Too Bad" that you don't have to spout profanity or graphic violence to convey danger. The Harder They Come is strongly recommended both for the casual listener interested in getting a sense of reggae music and the more serious enthusiast. Collections don't come much better than this.© Toby Ball /TiVo