Kane Brown is a thoroughly modern country singer. He's social media savvy, he has a history of auditioning for music reality programs, he blends hip-hop with his country-pop, he has an R&B bent to some of his rhythms, and -- most notably -- he doesn't shy away from difficult issues. That much is made clear from "Learning," a song where he raps about being a domestic abuse survivor -- tough stuff that goes down a bit easier due to its shiny modern production. "Learning" also suggests Brown has grander ambitions than he actually does, as the rest of his 2016 eponymous debut follows familiar bro-country paths. Brown spends as much time working the party-hearty territory of Luke Bryan and Florida Georgia Line as he does with the R&B-inflected romance of Sam Hunt -- to break things up a bit, he dabbles in the hometown nostalgia of Eric Church ("Cold Spot") -- which gives Kane Brown some range. Brown sounds equally at home with "Ain't No Stopping Us Now" -- an open-highway anthem in the vein of Florida Georgia Line's "Cruise" -- as he does with the simmering seduction of "Thunder in the Rain," and while that versatility is impressive, it also gives the sense that Brown is attempting whatever sound that might land him on the charts. On the plus side, this also means that listening to Kane Brown is a little like listening to a half-hour of modern country radio: there's just enough variety of sounds to keep things interesting and it all goes down smooth.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Jonathan Demme's creative direction and this group's brilliance make for an unusual live performance event. Starting solo with David Byrne, each song brings another band member to the stage until the full band kicks in. With Bernie Worrell on keyboards and a strong hit-filled set from the Speaking in Tongues tour, this is definitely worth checking out.© Scott Bultman /TiVo

The key to Chris Stapleton's immense success, of course, is his remarkable, inimitable vocal tone: a worn-leather rasp that can stretch high and low, project real strength and sweetness, and isn't specifically "country"—there are traces of Stax soul, Ray Charles' R&B and deep-fried Southern rock. But Stapleton also feels reliable; he's an artist of integrity and good taste who doesn't bother with false moves or trying on trends. In short, he is classic in real time. And that hasn't changed with Higher, his fifth solo album (after fronting the band Steeldrivers for years) in less than a decade. Co-produced once again with Dave Cobb, the album taps into the catholic formula that works well for him. Single "White Horse" is glorious arena rock, a sinewy flex with some particularly heavy moments. "South Dakota" brings Memphis-blues stomp, slithering confidently and managing to make that prairie state sound badass: "I'm in South Dakota/ Trouble ain't hard to find." Written with Miranda Lambert, "What Am I Gonna Do" is a mid-tempo pleaser with lazy-sun Skynyrd guitar and Stapleton, as always, beautifully complimented by harmonies from his wife Morgane Stapleton. She matches him as an equal duet partner and not just support on "It Takes a Woman," a '70s-ish country ballad that gives Stapleton the chance to hit an otherworldly note as he sings, "You make me hiiiiiiiigh and keep my feet on the ground." Sultry "Think I'm In Love With You" delivers a very '80s adult-contemporary vibe, complete with urbane strings—violin not fiddle. "Loving You On My Mind" is silky R&B, Stapleton sounding like a natural lover man as he sings, "Ever since there's a morning/ I've been wondering/ How you do that thing you did last night." He pushes toward falsetto on that one, but goes all the way on soulful ballad "Higher." Acoustic "Mountains Of My Mind" is gentle as a mountain stream and evokes memories of Guy Clark, while memorable "The Bottom" has a Willie Nelson feel, as Stapleton finds a way to deepen country's tangling of love—and heartbreak—and alcohol: "The heart holds a memory/ And the memory holds a past/ And the past holds a woman/ At the bottom of a glass/ So I don't have a problem/ If I don't see the bottom." And "Crosswind" is a metaphor-rich driving song ("carrying a heavy load," "picking up speed") that mimics the rhythm of rolling truck wheels for an excellent snapshot of outlaw country: "Trying to keep all the rubber on 65/ Might not make it out alive/ White-knuckling the wheel just to survive/ Caught in the crosswind." The parts are old, but Stapleton makes it feel brand new. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Few albums can say that they have defined a generation, but (What’s the Story) Morning Glory? is undoubtedly among that elite crowd. Recorded over the course of just 15 days in 1995, the album catapulted Oasis from crossover indie act to worldwide pop phenomenon, flooding the charts with retro-rock riffs and unforgettable hooks. To say that its impact was titanic would be an understatement. It became the fastest-selling album in the UK since Michael Jackson’s Bad. It has sold over 22 million copies worldwide, making it one of the best-selling albums of all time. And it was the knockout blow in the battle of Britpop, being twice as successful as their rival Blur’s contemporaneous album The Great Escape.Following up from the incredibly popular Definitely Maybe was no mean feat, but Oasis pulled it off without a hitch. The idealistic hope-against-the-odds message from their beginnings was replaced with realism and reflection. In an interview with Rolling Stone, Noel Gallagher commented that while their first album “was all about dreaming of being a pop star in a band, the second album is about actually being a pop star in a band”. They had reached where they wanted to be, and were wondering what lay beyond fame and fortune. The Mancunians had clearly enjoyed enough sex, drugs and rock’n’roll to yield four sides of vinyl, though they never limited themselves purely to counter-culture clichés. Noel Gallagher’s songwriting took on a notably more introspective tone, nestled in amongst jauntier tracks like She’s Electric and Roll With It. His philosophising shone through perhaps most obviously on Cast No Shadow, a song which was dedicated to The Verve’s frontman Richard Ashcroft and details the struggle that songwriters (and more universally, all of us) face when they desperately try to say the right thing and it keeps coming out wrong. Elsewhere, we find the attitude and aloofness that Oasis do so well. The cocaine anthem Morning Glory rides along a continuous wave of stadium-filling guitars as Liam Gallagher sings “All your dreams are made / When you’re chained to the mirror and the razor blade”. And then of course, there are Oasis’ biggest hits: Don’t Look Back In Anger, which urges the listener to live regret-free; Champagne Supernova, which despite its famously nonsensical lyrics (Slowly walking down the hall / Faster than a cannonball we’re looking at you) resonates with people the world over; and the often-imitated-never-replicated Wonderwall, where you’d be hard-pressed to find any Brit who doesn’t know all the words. Being more than just wedding dancefloor fillers and karaoke classics, the three tracks brilliantly capture the band’s skill for drawing complexity from simplicity. Ultimately, this album marked the beginning of the long-drawn-out end for Oasis and the albums that followed never quite lived up to the glorious rock and carefree euphoria found here. But then that’s another story… © Abi Church/Qobuz

Whether it's the atmospheric reverb on "Midnight Rambler," Byron Berline's fiddle (recorded outside on the street) on "Country Honk," or the meaty bass part that opens "Live with Me," Let It Bleed has always been an album full of intriguing sound. Add to that Merry Clayton's unforgettable vocal overdubs on "Gimme Shelter" (as well as its opening ghostly voices, washboard guiro scrapes and reverb-drenched guitar) and Let It Bleed, newly remastered by Bob Ludwig for its 50th anniversary reissue, is an album especially suited to the world of high resolution audio. From 1968 through 1972, no popular music act (except The Beatles) made better albums than The Rolling Stones. Their blockbuster run began in late 1968 with Beggars Banquet and continued through Let It Bleed (1969), Sticky Fingers (1971) and Exile on Main Street (1972). If Beggars Banquet was the sound of the band stripping down their sound and working out their frustrations over their legal tangles and impending departure of Brian Jones (replaced in June 1969 by Mick Taylor), Let It Bleed was the band emerging unbowed, with a new confidence and a dramatic leap in songwriting quality from Jagger/Richards, bookended by the ominous "Gimme Shelter" and the common sense rock gospel of "You Can't Always Get What You Want." Let It Bleed also acknowledges the band's deep roots in the blues with with an acoustic cover of Robert Johnson's "Love in Vain," Richards' prolific slide guitar parts and "Midnight Rambler," the band's "blues opera." Despite its popularity (#1 in UK and #3 in US), there's even a sleeper track—the underrated "Monkey Man," whose lyrics sum up the swinging '60s with impenetrable lines like, "I'm a cold Italian pizza / I could use a lemon squeezer / What you do?” Originally produced by Jimmy Miller and engineered by Glyn Johns, the new remastering is a sonic refresh with a larger soundstage that adds new detail to Jagger's vocal performance of "Love in Vain" and Richards' guitar work in "Midnight Rambler". Like all the recent ABKCO reissues from this period, this may well be the best Let It Bleed will ever sound. © Robert Baird / Qobuz

Instant-classic debut from the English rock band that introduced the world to the Gallagher brothers.© TiVo

Arriving with the force of a hurricane, Oasis' third album, Be Here Now, is a bright, bold, colorful tour de force that simply steamrolls over any criticism. The key to Oasis' sound is its inevitability -- they are unwavering in their confidence, which means that even the hardest rockers are slow, steady, and heavy, not fast. And that self-possessed confidence, that belief in their greatness, makes Be Here Now intensely enjoyable, even though it offers no real songwriting breakthroughs. Noel Gallagher remains a remarkably talented synthesist, bringing together disparate strands -- "D'You Know What I Mean" has an N.W.A drum loop, a Zeppelin-esque wall of guitars, electronica gurgles, and lyrical allusions to the Beatles and Dylan -- to create impossibly catchy songs that sound fresh, no matter how many older songs he references. He may be working familiar territory throughout Be Here Now, but it doesn't matter because the craftsmanship is good. "The Girl in the Dirty Shirt" is irresistible pop, and epics like "Magic Pie" and "All Around the World" simply soar, while the rockers "My Big Mouth," "It's Getting Better (Man!!)," and "Be Here Now" attack with a bone-crunching force. Noel is smart enough to balance his classicist tendencies with spacious, open production, filling the album with found sounds, layers of guitars, keyboards, and strings, giving the record its humongous, immediate feel. The sprawling sound and huge melodic hooks would be enough to make Be Here Now a winner, but Liam Gallagher's vocals give the album emotional resonance. Singing better than ever, Liam injects venom into the rockers, but he also delivers the nakedly emotional lyrics of "Don't Go Away" with affecting vulnerability. That combination of violence and sensitivity gives Oasis an emotional core and makes Be Here Now a triumphant album.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

By 1973, the disparity between the Grateful Dead's studio work and their eminence as live performers was already well established. Their sixth studio album, Wake of the Flood, served as a transitional document, bridging the gap between the gentle Americana they'd presented three years prior on American Beauty, and the increasingly electrified jamming they were exploring on-stage around then, while also setting the scene for the more complex progressive sounds they'd soon be getting into. After satisfying their nine-title/dozen-disc deal with Warner Bros, the Dead began their own record labels: Grateful Dead Records (for group releases) and Round Records (for solo projects). Wake of the Flood was the first Dead disc issued entirely under the band's supervision -- which also included manufacturing and marketing. Additionally, the personnel had been altered, as Ron "Pigpen" McKernan had passed away. The keyboard responsibilities were now in the capable hands of Keith Godchaux -- whose wife Donna Jean Godchaux also provided backing vocals. A majority of the tracks here had been incorporated into their live sets -- some for nearly six months -- prior to entering the recording studio. This gave the band a unique perspective on the material, much of which remained for the next 20-plus years as staples of their concert performances. Instead of hushed folk and bluegrass-informed songwriting, the Dead tap into the improvisatory, jazz-informed playing they excelled at live throughout Wake of the Flood. "Eyes of the World" contains some brilliant ensemble playing and Bob Weir's "Weather Report Suite" foreshadows the epic proportions that the song would ultimately reach. The lilting Jerry Garcia ballad "Stella Blue" is another track that works well in this incarnation and remained in the Dead's rotating set list for the remainder of their touring careers. The disconnect between the group's powers as a live band and their limitations as a studio band was a sticking point throughout their lengthy run. Wake of the Flood doesn't quite reach the goal of a middle ground, but it is one of the stronger studio documents the band produced, and captures hints of what they could do on-stage better than most of their studio sets from a time when they were truly unstoppable.© Lindsay Planer & Fred Thomas /TiVo

It's hard to imagine today but Atlanta used to very much be a musical backwater. Before the early '90s—when the city became the epicenter of American R&B and hip-hop thanks to the work done by L.A. Reid, Babyface, Jermaine Dupri, and many others—Atlanta was pretty much just a huge Southern city more known as a requisite tour stop (it's where the Sex Pistols kicked off their U.S. tour!) than for its homegrown talent. There had always been a vibrant music scene, but despite its creative breadth, it was mostly appreciated at the local level. Occasionally, artists would break through, but the idea of an "Atlanta scene" was laughable, a situation made even more embarrassing by the fact that tiny Athens—just an hour north —boasted a far more critically appreciated stable of bands. So when, in 1990, a band called the Black Crowes began dominating rock radio with their debut album, even some Atlanta music fans were surprised to discover that this was, in fact, a local act. Previously known as Mr. Crowe’s Garden, the band achieved moderate regional success with their punkish and somewhat shambolic take on classic rock tropes, but the focused, muscular, and surgically precise sound of Shake Your Money Maker was an altogether different beast. While fellow Atlantans Georgia Satellites had hit paydirt a few years earlier with a similar—albeit more barroom-focused—formula, the Crowes approach was far more studious. While they would later become renowned for their loose, jammy live shows (and even their follow-up would reveal a far more interesting spectrum of southern musical influences), Shake Your Money Maker found the Black Crowes reading the catechism from The Holy Book of Rock & Roll like the most true-believing evangelists. And while the album didn't score a whole lot of points for originality, it more than made up for that with its confidence, swagger, and sheer skill. Of course, Chris Robinson's vocal style—equal parts Mick Jagger and Faces-era Rod Stewart with a measure of gravelly Stax soul for flavor—was a highly effective delivery mechanism, but the twin guitars of his brother Rich Robinson and Jeff Cease (who would be the first of many "former members" of the band) were both beefy and melodic, and the highly underrated rhythm section of Johnny Colt and Steve Gorman managed to be both locked in tight and fiercely swinging. The combination was irresistible, providing a powerful reminder of the instinctive strengths of rock 'n' roll (which, you must remember, was kind of on the ropes in those post-spandex, pre-grunge years). Sure, scoring a hit with a cover of a hit ("Hard to Handle") may not be the best way to establish your creative abona fides, but being able to follow that up with more interesting singles like "Jealous Again" and "Twice As Hard" proved that the band was capable of more than just xeroxing the greats. This fleshed-out 30th anniversary reissue does a marvelous job of putting the work into perspective, unearthing early Mr. Crowe’s Garden demos, a few studio outtakes ("Charming Mess" being the best), and an absolutely barnstorming hometown concert recorded around the time of the album's release. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

Comebacks are Bob Dylan's thing. Call him irrelevant and he'll summon his demons and write another masterpiece. In the 1990s, one of America's greatest creative engines was drifting. The Don Was-produced Under The Red Sky, Dylan's only collection of new songs in the decade, was met with a collective shrug.  In 1995, there was the death of Grateful Dead's Jerry Garcia—a "big brother" Dylan would call him in a eulogy he wrote for Rolling Stone.  But starting in late 1996, Dylan began writing  a record's worth of tunes in his home state of Minnesota that, after an extended recording process in California and Florida, would become Time Out of Mind. Critics and fans who'd consigned him to the scrap heap once again were effusive in their astonishment: Maybe Bobby wasn't done after all! Although the lyrics are often bitter and tinged with mortality, the love song melodies on Time Out of Mind are tender and his delivery often more pleading than angry or accusatory. The album also marked a return to writing and performing original materia, producing some of the best songs of his later career including "Make You Feel My Love," "Love Sick" and "Tryin' to Get To Heaven."As with most Dylan albums—even the masterworks—controversies immediately set in. The recording sessions were disorganized, cacophonous events, with conflicts between the artist and producer Daniel Lanois. Dylan disliked the sound of the final product, ending the partnership with Lanois after two albums. Deeper insight into the making of the album is now possible thanks to the five-disc Fragments volume of the always excellent Bootleg Series. More than just a collection of outtakes and live performances from that era, this set crucially includes a new 2022 mix by Michael H. Brauer that strips out much of Lanois' trademark shimmering production and sonic luster, stripping them back to the kind of mix Dylan supposedly preferred. The most obvious result of the remix is that it becomes even clearer that these melodies, mainstays in his live shows ever since, are truly among his best ever. The often-erratic swirl of instrumentation on the original album—three drummers and two pedal steel guitars playing at once—reorders itself and makes more sense. "Make You Feel My Love," for example, becomes a very clean mix of vocals and the powerhouse keyboard duo of Augie Meyers and Jim Dickinson. Throughout the new mixes, Dylan's vocals (always a matter of taste) become more prominent. For fans of the original album, the three discs of outtakes (one previously released) provide depth and insight and include the near classic "Red River Shore," an unrequited love story unreleased until 2008, and early takes of "Mississippi" which appeared on his next album, Love and Theft. The disc of live performances of the Time Out of Mind material with a five-piece band is especially good, featuring remarkably clear sound and several knockout performances including a near-acoustic "Tryin' To Get To Heaven" from Birmingham, England, an ardent, previously-released "Make You Feel My Love" from Los Angeles. and a roaring take from Buenos Aries of " 'Til I Fell in Love With You." A deeper dive than most of the Bootleg series, Fragments embodies the idea of essential. © Robert Baird/Qobuz

What do keyboardist Herbie Hancock, bassist Marcus Miller, double bassist Dave Holland, guitarist Nguyen Lê, trumpeter Ambrose Akinmusire, flautist Rakesh Chaurasia and singer/oudist Dhafer Youssef all have in common? They’re all huge names in their field. So, it’s only natural that anything they produce together should be something special. This is certainly the case with Dhafer Youssef’s ninth album. Having so many huge names come together is unusual. So unusual, indeed, that it almost feels like a mirage – one that might disappear if only you were to pinch yourself. Inspired by jazz (jazz-rock, specifically), funk and ‘world music’ (notably oriental and Indian), it’s impossible to fit this record into one box.This album is like an apparition—like a spaceship flying across a starry night sky. From the very first track, which gives the name for this album, Dhafer Youssef’s voice transports the music to whole new heights. Like someone calling from the abyss, his vocals float atop waves of precise yet obscure sound. Each musician has obvious talent and an impressive CV, yet they don’t seem to feel the need to prove anything to each other; they serve nothing but the music. There’s a lot of technical and instrumental skill displayed throughout this album, but there’s also intuition, creative abandon and an almost telepathic harmony between the artists. The compositions are complex and unique in the way they link two musical extremes: groove and ambient. You’ll need to listen to this one with your eyes closed and your chakras wide open. © Stéphane Deschamps/Qobuz