Nearly a quarter decade after they shook up radio with their Southern-fried Faces revival, Shake Your Moneymaker, the Black Crowes—that is, let's be honest, brothers Chris and Rich Robinson—are back with a ninth album that embraces their crushed velvet and cracked leather roots. Happiness Bastards could've come out in 1990 or, more aptly, 1970 or '71, filed next to the Stones and the Faces and James Gang. "Dirty Cold Sun" nods to the latter: blistering funk with deep-fried Southern rock guitar and piston rhythm, leaving nothing on the table. The guitar riffs, of course, come from the great Rich Robinson, king of open tuning, who had fallen into a rut during the late aughts (the less said about those albums, the better) but sounds rejuvenated on tracks like the urgent "Rats and Clowns." His brother, meanwhile, seems like no decades have passed, that signature rasp honed to a fine point. "Bedside Manners" tears it up with greasy guitar and boogie piano frills, then slows its roll, as Chris does his usual motormouth riffing—spray-painting every corner with "huh" and "oh!" The brothers did well by choosing Jay Joyce to produce; he's excellent at pushing artists with a dark outlaw edge (Eric Church, Miranda Lambert, Cage the Elephant) toward a multi-hued palette. "Cross Your Fingers" starts out as a ballad, then kicks into a confident, liquid-bass strut accented by Merry Clayton-style backing vocals. "Well, I stand accused on the shore of a stormy sea … And I survived the bullet you shot right through my heart/ And in this crime, I have surely taken part," Chris sings in what could be an omission of the vainglory and rivalry that drove a wedge between the brothers for years. There are other nods to their shared history. Stomping "Follow the Moon" could be an outtake from their Amorica album, and the vocal melody of "Wanting and Waiting"'s verses sound a lot like "Jealous Again" from 1990. But there are also a couple of left turns. "Flesh Wound" is a shit-kicker, its pop-punk beat and revved-up rockabilly guitar offering levity amidst the Stonesy shadows; you wouldn't want a whole album of it, and it's probably going to piss off some fans, but it's a fun novelty. And "Kindred Friend" is a beautiful break from the regular programming; there is no juke-joint bite to this Lennon-esque ballad. There is one wasted moment on Happiness Bastards. Country star Lainey Wilson signs up for harmony on swampy, gospel-tinged "Wilted Rose," but her powerhouse is too low in the mix to matter. Wilson is a master at duets (see: Jelly Roll, Hardy, Cole Swindell); too bad the Crowes couldn't make room for her.  © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

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

“This is my life in Songs. Some of them reconstructed, some of them refitted, some of them reframed, and all of them with a contemporary focus.” That is the description of Sting’s latest record, making this more than just a collection of his biggest hits (either solo or with The Police). It was a particular kind of rhythm that he wanted to work in, so as to eliminate the ‘dated’ feel to some of his songs (according to Sting himself). More striking than the original, the drums of Demolition Man, If You Love Someone Set Them Free, Desert Rose and even Englishman in New York will take listeners by surprise. Regarding this famous tribute to gay icon Quentin Crisp, the song released in 1988 is seasoned by pizzicatos and a soprano sax solo.As for the other ballads, it’s more in the singer’s texture and vocal prowess that the reinvention is most noticeable. Less pure but more structured than before, Sting’s voice carries a new dimension in Fields of Gold and Fragile, two songs that also prove that the Englishman’s talent as a melodist has not aged a bit. The same goes for tracks taken from his Police years too, in particular Message in a Bottle and Walking on the Moon, as well as the ubiquitous Roxanne (presented here as a live version). © Nicolas Magenham/Qobuz

Amidst the whirlwind that came in the wake of her 2021 Mercury Prize-winning debut Collapsed in Sunbeams, Arlo Parks took time off—from performing, social media and generally being in the public eye—for her mental health. The reward for that space is My Soft Machine, an album that Parks, 23, has said is about navigating life in her 20s, the "anxiety, the substance abuse of friends … the viscera of being in love for the first time, navigating PTSD and grief and self-sabotage and joy." And for all those stressful words that come before it, there is the sound of so much joy here. Jazz-rap drums and the slightest of an Asian riff bring sunniness to romantic "Impurities," about letting yourself be happy with someone else, even if you're not picture-perfect. "My chest is buzzing like a bluebird caged/ Love like Juliette Binoche/ You touch my leg to make sure I'm still there/ I radiate like a star, like a star, star, star … When you embrace all my impurities." Bouncy, dubbing "Blades" is the sound of summertime roller disco. "Dog Rose" is delightful late '90s breeziness that underscores how much Parks sounds like the Cardigans' Nina Persson (whose own sunny songs, including solo works and in A Camp, often contain a darker shadow). "Pegasus," featuring the ubiquitous Phoebe Bridgers, is dreamy and gauzy but with percussive spikes added to keep things from going too soft: "I span 'round and screamed, 'I feel elated when you hold me/ And you got shy and beamed, 'I think it's special that you told me,'" sings Parks, who has said the song is about both "experiencing the warmth and lightness of good love for the first time" and how the "presence of real connection can be a little bit terrifying after a long time of not having it." On the flipside, coolly skittering "Weightless" probes what it's like to be more into someone than they are into you—and finds a deeper, distorted voice shadowing Parks' own, like some interior pain slipping out. The title of "Devotion" echoes the copy of naturalist Mary Oliver's poetry collection Devotions that Parks discovered in the studio ("I don't know who left it. A gift from the universe," she told The Guardian) and which influenced her as much as the flora and fauna, the lightness, of her new home in Los Angeles. But there's a surprise there, too, as the song shifts from a languid shuffle, bass undertow tugging all the while, to a wall of big, crunchy, grunge guitars. "Purple Phase" kicks back and stretches out, all sultry bass and golden splashes of cymbal, as Parks promises, "I would find all and I'd give it to you" before a sudden burst of thunder threatens the mood. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

There's a narrative to the soundtrack for Bradley Cooper's 2018 remake of A Star Is Born, one that mirrors the one told in the movie. Often, the album features dialogue ripped from the screen -- a full 15 tracks, actually, amounting to seven minutes of this 74-minute album -- which means A Star Is Born almost plays like a Disney record from the '60s or '70s: it's designed to tide listeners over until they get a chance to see the movie again. Of course, A Star Is Born is a musical, so its soundtrack is filled with full-fledged songs, all of which serve the story that the dialogue gooses along. Strip out the distracting dialogue tracks and the plot of A Star Is Born is still evident, as the music moves from the grungy Americana of Cooper's character, through his affecting duets with Lady Gaga, toward her flashy pop, and then culminating with "I'll Never Love Again," the song where the two estranged lovers reunite. Each of these phases is expertly executed. Lukas Nelson assists Cooper in the rangy grunge of "Black Eyes," while Jason Isbell's spare "Maybe It's Time" is an affecting slice of Americana. The second stage, where Gaga is duetting with Cooper, fuses their sensibilities seamlessly, particularly on the aching ballad "Shallow" and loping country-rock of "Music to My Eyes," which was co-written by Nelson and Gaga. Her pop section plays like its own EP, and it's snappy, stylish, and savvy, particularly on the retro-disco of "Why Did You Do That?" and soulful "Heal Me." All the songs make sense narratively and on their own, so they hold together well and would amount to a first-rate soundtrack, if it weren't for those meddling dialogue tracks, which wind up sapping any kind of momentum for the album.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Although Sailin' Shoes was Little Feat's second album, released just a year after their self-titled debut, it marks a very clear departure. With all of the songs written by founder Lowell George (rather than the somewhat more democratic compositional approach of LIttle Feat), Sailin' Shoes has a more consistent and defined vision, making it feel like a proper debut. The fact that the band saw no issue with re-recording a track from their first album—George's truck-driving anthem "Willin'," a song so good that when Frank Zappa heard the demo while George was a Mother of Invention, he implored George to go start his own band—tells you that they likely viewed Sailin' Shoes as a real coming-out party. And while the band continues to explore the "southern-bayous-via-southern-California" vibe they staked out on Little Feat, Sailin' Shoes is, just like its Neon Park-painted cover, a much more vibrant and imaginative affair.There are, of course, plenty of raucous, loose-limbed jams here. "Tripe Face Boogie" and "A Apolitical Blues" both sound like accidental peeks into works-in-progress, but are deceptively well-constructed roots-rock numbers. Other uptempo numbers like the proto-punk garage rock of "Teenage Nervous Breakdown" provide plenty of electricity. But for the most part, Sailin' Shoes grooves by like its midtempo title track: confident; breezy; and casually soulful tunes complemented by moments of gentle, charming sweetness ("Trouble") and evocative character drawings ("Willin'"). For the album's near-half-century anniversary, this deluxe edition rounds out a splendid remaster of the original LP with a wealth of bonus material. In addition to a handful of studio outtakes that made their way onto 2000's Hotcakes and Outtakes box set (including early versions of "Easy to Slip" and "Texas Rose Café" that George originally cut as songwriter demos for the Doobie Brothers), there are five alternate versions and demos that are previously unreleased. Much more notable is the inclusion of an absolutely revelatory live show from August 1971 at the L.A. Palladium, the first multi-track recording of a complete concert by the original lineup to be released (bassist Roy Estrada would leave before the band cut Dixie Chicken). On this particular summer evening, the band was tight and raucous, presenting a very different concert impression than the jam-oriented monster immortalized later on Waiting for Columbus. It all makes for an appropriately expansive presentation of an absolutely essential album. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

It's been a decade since Bangerz positioned Miley Cyrus as a young woman publicly transforming from Disney goof to party girl. In many ways, it was the predictable child-star cry for attention—I can drink alcohol! I can take drugs! I can have sex! I can shave off my long locks and wear underwear as outerwear!—yet the wild and wooly songs were anything but predictable. Now, Cyrus is 30; she's been married and divorced; she's lived through twerking scandals. And her new album lets the world know she's in a new place: Like Madonna, Cyrus is pretty brilliant at stylistic reinvention. It opens with her inescapable, disco-kissed hit "Flowers." An anthem for single women and men, it cleverly serves an empowered response to Bruno Mars' simpering 2013 ballad "When I Was Your Man," with its lyrics about how he should've bought his girl flowers and held her hand and taken her to parties to dance. "I can buy myself flowers," Cyrus declares. "Write my name in the sand … I can take myself dancing/ I can hold my own hand/ Yeah, I can love me better than/ You can." First things first, there is no other song as good as this on the record (or, when it was released, on the radio). But there is plenty to enjoy. With breezy beats that live up to its name, "Island" echoes the theme of "Flowers" like it was the first try of Cyrus getting used to being on her own: "I'm on an island/ Dirty dancing in the sun/ So close to heaven/ But so far from everyone … Am I stranded on an island?/ Or have I landed in paradise?" Dreamy "Rose Colored Lenses"—about wanting to stay in bed with someone rather than let the realities of the outside world ruin what you have—partners a languid melody with '90s alt beats and bouncy bass. "You" is a woozy, soulful slow jam about letting loose: "I wanna drive down to Texas/ flip off my exes/ Get kind of reckless/ and have wild, wild, wild sex under the moon." "Violet Chemistry" reunites Cyrus with Mike WiLL Made-It (who produced Bangerz' excellent, sedative-laced "We Can't Stop"); it's pretty and ready for moving around mindlessly on the dance floor, but has none of the eccentricity of their past collaborations. "Thousand Miles," too, is a wasted opportunity. Folksy Americana with a little Latin flair, it features harmonies from Brandi Carlile in songbird mode. But what a treat it would be to hear these two powerhouses go at it in a real duet. Sia guests on the stomping "Muddy Feet," a "take this love and shove it" number that echoes Justin Timberlake's "Cry Me a River." You can imagine Lady Gaga or even Bonnie Tyler recording "Wonder Woman," but Cyrus absolutely owns the piano ballad. And the closer, a demo of "Flowers" with just her and an electric piano, is chill-inducing. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

The superb French/Ivory Coast drummer Manu Katche, long a backing force on many ECM sessions, steps out on his own for the first time on this label and comes up with a gem -- with a little help from some of the ECM stars. Indeed, "Neighbourhood" is a very appropriate title, for there are several interlocking orbits of personnel within this album. For a start, the CD marks another collaboration between trumpeter Tomasz Stanko and saxophonist Jan Garbarek, the latter whom Katche has been backing on and off since the early '90s. Moreover Stanko brought along part of his Polish rhythm team, pianist Marcin Wasilewski and bassist Slawomir Kurkiewicz, for the session. Michel Petrucciani is clearly on Katche's mind, for not only is the album dedicated to the late pianist, the reflective, ardently lyrical mood of Katche's compositions -- and Wasilewski's piano work -- are quite reminiscent of Petrucciani at his most relaxed. And Katche can write; his tunes are often wistful and thoughtful, his percussive backing crisp yet subtle, carefully filling in the cracks while keeping just enough of a gentle pulse. The best of the lot, the simple angular tune of "Good Influence," grabs you by the throat, tugs at your heart, and doesn't quit the memory -- sure signs of greatness. By contrast, "Lovely Walk" kicks up the tempo behind an ostinato bass while "Take Off and Land" brings in a touch of fatback funk. If there is a single wellspring behind this music -- besides Petrucciani of course -- Herbie Hancock's acoustic combo recordings of the late '60s come closest in terms of ambience and harmony. Call this album an inspired descendant two generations and an ocean away.© Richard S. Ginell /TiVo

In 2017, Sampha lit up the world with his debut solo album Process, which delved into the grief of losing his parents and unveiled an incredibly sensitive side to his music. Since then, the London-based artist has embarked on numerous collaborations with heavyweights like Kendrick Lamar, Beyoncé, Solange, Kanye West, and FKA Twigs. The impact of this period on Sampha’s work is clear – perhaps none more so than in his second album Lahai, inspired by the birth of his daughter in 2020.Crafted with delicacy and a quiet strength, Lahai certainly stands out as a musical highlight of 2023. The album presents a succession of exquisitely mastered ideas, whether it's the oddly energetic "Suspended," a tale of Sampha’s state of bliss, "What If You Hypnotise Me?" featuring a haunting piano performance by Léa Sen, or the single "Only," which clearly bears the influence of modern soul. Sampha continues to explore intimacy supported by impeccably crafted production, and undoubtedly, he delivers his best project to date. © Brice Miclet/Qobuz

Produced by Rick Rubin, Johnny Cash’s legendary American recordings are not only among his major musical statements, but also its moving final will. Released in November 2002, American IV – The Man Comes Around is the last volume of the collection that was released while Cash was still alive (He passed away 10 months after its release). Using the famous “cover” recipe, Johnny Cash managed in this record to turn other musicians’ compositions, sometimes recent work, into his own unique style. Nine Inch Nails, Depeche Mode, and Sting are all covered, and when listening to Cash’s rendition of their songs it is sometimes difficult to recall their original versions. As usual, Rubin’s work on the soundboard is devoted to Johnny Cash’s voice. Caught it its last whispers, the voice is haunting, yet never morose.Indeed, the voice is key in “American IV”.  The material can bring chills (the video clip of Hurt is deeply moving and, after listening to the track, Trent Reznor proclaimed “It’s like I have lost my girlfriend. This song doesn’t belong to me anymore…”), Give My Love To Rose evokes a sadness that is a strike at the heart, and I Hung My Head expresses an innocence that is profoundly tender. Even when he deals with the classic repertoire of country music, many that he recorded in the past (Sam Hall, Give My Love To Rose, I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry, Streets of Laredo, Danny Boy) the Man in Black brings to his interpretation the sorrow and sensitivity of his dying condition, always with grace and dignity. A sad yet festive funeral, the record includes many featured guest artists: Fiona Apple and Nick Cave sing, John Frusciante of the Red Hot Chili Peppers and Marty Stuart strum their guitars, old partner Cowboy Jack Clement pulls out his dobro, Joey Waronker abandons Beck and Air to join in the rhythm section, and Benmont Tench brings in an array of keyboards including an organ, harmonium, Mellotron, vibraphone and even a Wurlitzer. Music lovers from all over the world recognized what a masterpiece American IV – The Man Comes Around had been created, and its reception led it to be a gold record, which was Johnny Cash’s first in thirty years. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

Eva Cassidy's life story hasn't been made into film … yet. Her love of schmaltzy repertoire and refusal to be pigeonholed as one type of singer made attracting label interest difficult, but she finally made her debut recording in 1992. By the mid-'90s, Cassidy was building a buzz in the Washington, D.C., music scene (despite her hesitancy about performing live and, in general, singing as a career), only to be derailed by a cancer diagnosis. In May 1996 she self-released her second album, Live at Blues Alley, just as the cancer returned and spread through her bones and lungs; six months later Cassidy died at the age of 33. But thanks to a BBC DJ playing her version of Judy Garland's ageless hit "Over the Rainbow" (from Songbird, a posthumous 1998 compilation), Cassidy became a hit in the UK in 2000—Songbird would eventually go six times platinum in the U.K. and gold in the U.S. For its 25th anniversary, Live at Blues Alley, whose original purpose was just to give Cassidy something to sell at gigs, has been digitally remastered by Robert Vosgien (who mastered the original album) from the original mixes. The sound, which was always surprisingly good for a live album recorded in a small Georgetown club, seems audibly improved by the fresh tweaks. While Cassidy's voice and instinctual gift for phrasing allowed her to sing almost anything well, her fondness for popular (read: overexposed) older repertoire like Irving Berlin's "Cheek to Cheek" and T-Bone Walker's "Stormy Monday" mixes with slightly more adventurous fare like Sting's "Fields of Gold" and Al Green's "Take Me to The River." Cassidy's superpower was that her voice and phrasing were extraordinary at communicating a resounding feeling of sadness. It's tempting to say it's because she sensed her coming tragedy. Supported by a quintet that includes pianist Lenny Williams and her then partner bassist Chris Biondo, Cassidy wrings every drop of pathos out of the Johnny Mercer-penned standard, "Autumn Leaves." Frustrating as a tease for what her subsequent career might have been, Live at Blues Alley nevertheless is a precious crumb of genius tragically interrupted. © Robert Baird/Qobuz

Tom Waits collaborated with director Robert Wilson and librettist William Burroughs on the musical stage work The Black Rider in 1990. A variation on the Faust legend, the 19th century German story allowed Waits to indulge his affection for the music of Kurt Weill and address one of his favorite topics of recent years, the devil. Waits had proven an excellent collaborator when he worked with director Francis Ford Coppola on One from the Heart, making that score an integral part of the film. Here, the collaboration and the established story line served to focus Waits' often fragmented attention, lending coherence and consistency. He then had three years to adapt the score into a record album in which he did most of the singing and writing (though Burroughs contributed, singing one song and writing lyrics to three), and he used the time to come up with his best recording in a decade, a varied set of songs that work whether or not you know the show. (Seven of the 20 tracks were instrumentals.) Waits used the word "crude" to describe his working method several times in the liner notes, and a crude performing and recording style continued to appeal to him. But the kind of chaos that can sometimes result from that style was reined in by the bands he assembled in Germany and Los Angeles to record the score, so that the recordings were lively without being off-puttingly primitive. © William Ruhlmann /TiVo

Where her last album, 2019's Daylight, was quietly drenched in remorse and pain, Mother Road's ten tracks burn with passion from a recharged Grace Potter. Collectively, the album is  what she calls "a tantrum and a haunting." The spiritual inheritor of Janis Joplin and Tina Turner's fiery performance style and sassy soul shouter delivery, Potter radiates energy through her voice which is in fine form here, charged at turns by tinges of searching, anxiety and some good old-fashioned flipping-the-bird, go-to-hell spirit.  The title track, in which she indulges her penchant for wailing, sets the tone, but then "Ready Set Go" rolls into a stomping groove, followed by the singalong gospel of "Good Time," which features Benmont Tench on ARP string machine. The concept of life being a "mother road," appears in "Little Hitchhiker," a ghost story co-written with Natalie Hemby (The Highwomen), where Potter shows a sweet, patient side to her voice. Set to the rhythm of a galloping horse, "Lady Vagabond" is an inspired ride into spaghetti western territory in which Potter's husband and producer Eric Valentine plays castanets, shakers and kora. Having recorded in Nashville at Dave Cobb's famed RCA Studio A under Valentine's steady hand—he also produced her 2015 breakthrough Midnight—the band is made up of trusty veterans like keyboardist Benmont Tench (Tom Petty), guitarist Nick Bockrath (Cage The Elephant), bassist Tim Deaux (The Whigs, Kings Of Leon), pedal-steel guitarist Dan Kalisher (Fitz and the Tantrums), and drummer Matt Musty (Train, Gwen Stefani). Meant to project good times and confidence, the sonic profile is an aggressive rock sound, though occasionally on the edge of being too loud. While there's no question that Mother Road is more personal than anything Potter has recorded so far, the tour de force closer, "Masterpiece," takes lyrical intimacy to an entirely new level. It fully deserves the rank of "epic." Beginning its ballsy run with, "Somewhere in the middle of the seventh grade/ I realized that everyone my age was an asshole" it progresses through various physical and emotional specifics before a breathtaking midpoint summation: "Embroider all my vices/ Catharsis and crisis into one/ Incorrigible / Pendulum."  Back at full strength after a raft of personal challenges stemming from the avalanche of fame that came after Midnight, Potter is recentered and ready for more.  © Robert Baird/Qobuz

Arriving 12 years after the release of the film, Vangelis' soundtrack to the 1982 futuristic noir detective thriller Blade Runner is as bleak and electronically chilling as the film itself. By subtly interspersing clips of dialogue and sounds from the film, Vangelis creates haunting soundscapes with whispered subtexts and sweeping revelations, drawing inspiration from Middle Eastern textures and evoking neo-classical structures. Often cold and forlorn, the listener can almost hear the indifferent winds blowing through the neon and metal cityscapes of Los Angeles in 2019. The sultry, saxophone-driven "Love Theme" has since gone on as one of the composer's most recognized pieces and stands alone as one of the few warm refuges on an otherwise darkly cold (but beautiful) score. An unfortunate inclusion of the 1930s-inspired ballad "One More Kiss, Dear" interrupts the futuristic synthesized flow of the album with a muted trumpet and Rudy Vallée-style croon. However well done (and appropriate in the movie), a forlorn love song that sounds as if it is playing on a distant Philco radio in The Walton's living room jarringly breaks the mood of the album momentarily (although with CD technology, this distraction is easily bypassed). Fans of Ridley Scott's groundbreaking film (as well as those interested in the evolution of electronic music) will warmly take this recording into their plastic-carbide-alloy hearts.© Zac Johnson /TiVo

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