The Complete Budokan 1978 captures some of Dylan's very first concert appearances in Japan and is an essential release for diehards, while an intriguing curio for the casual listener. Complete Budokan encompasses all of the material originally issued as a double LP in 1978, plus three dozen additional tracks. This lovingly remastered album, sourced from the original 24-channel multi-track analog tapes, sounds far crisper than the original release (especially the vocals). Released to coincide with the 45th anniversary of the original eight-show run at the infamous Budokan auditorium, we hear the entirety of two shows from February 28 and March 1, 1978. Bob Dylan is at a fascinating crossroads in his career here, and in fine voice. The album finds our hero in between the traveling circus that was the mid 1970s Rolling Thunder tour, and one year before his conversion to Christianity. Dylan shows us what a traditional American great he is, with a near-orchestral band and dramatically reworked takes on classic songs. Some of these arrangements are wonky, especially to modern ears. But they're always intriguingly put together, and intricately executed takes—the highlight being a knockdown, muscular "The Man in Me." It's clear from the start that this is not your grandpa's Dylan. Stirring leads on saxophone, mandolin, and fiddle deliver the vocal melodies to "A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall." "Shelter from the Storm" is given a halting, reggae-ish tempo, a positively E Street-worthy sax solo, and the delightful touches one would expect from the Dead. Other tunes stray closer to a Vegas revue. "I Threw It All Away" is transformed into a full-blown showtune, as the backing vocals take center stage. One wonders if a line of chorus dancers were onstage for this or the lilting, tango-esque take on "Love Minus Zero." There is occasional flute, notably on "Mr. Tambourine Man," which we weren't sure about at first, but by the third listen we were absolutely digging it, even as it takes the tune straight to Margaritaville. © Mike McGonigal/Qobuz

Midnights isn't a retreat so much as a return, a revival of the moody electro-pop that kept Reputation roiling. Where that 2017 record carried a measure of defiance, the vibe of Midnights is contemplative even when beats are insistent, as they are on occasion. Despite these fleeting moments of urgency, the record is clearly a soundtrack to be played in the wee hours of the morning. In that sense, Midnights is a kindred spirit to Folklore and Evermore, the twin 2020 albums Swift released during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, yet those records felt like collections of short stories where these songs -- whether in their standard 13-song variation or the lengthy "3 AM Edition" which runs an additional seven tracks -- all feel like confessions, even if they display the sense of exacting lyrical detail she's honed since Lover. These compositions provide a sturdy foundation on a record that wants to capture the aimless suspension of late-night insomnia, a time filled with regret, recriminations, and resignations. Swift spikes this moodiness with hints of steeliness -- witness the cool swagger of "Vigilante Shit" -- but that's merely an accent on an album designed to deliver variations on one specific mood. Although this monochromatic palette tends to highlight the limits of co-producer Jack Antonoff's bag of tricks -- nothing here feels surprising, even when he's playing with textures and teasing out the music's dream pop elements -- the narrow focus is the main attribute of Midnights, as it plays to Swift's sense of control and craft: she may be singing about messy emotions but she sculpts those tangled feelings into shimmering, resonant songs.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

If you could have only have one Art Blakey & the Jazz Messengers disc, it absolutely must be Moanin'. This 1958 Blue Note date is the cream of the early Messengers' studio sessions. The group of this period featured the wailing Lee Morgan (trumpet), the swinging Benny Golson (sax), and the soulful Bobby Timmons (piano), with longtime bassist Jymie Merritt by Blakey's side. All of the pieces fell into place here to create one of the most hard-swinging, blues-inflected records in jazz history. Timmons' classic title cut sets the pace as its laid-back call-and-response chorus and swinging bridge will get into your soul and start your head bobbing. Golson's bouncing "Are You Real" and the subtle "Along Came Betty" feature that golden Messengers ensemble sound that can't be matched as Blakey drives his men mercilessly. The most dynamic tracks, of course, are the drum feature "The Drum Thunder Suite," a Blakey tour de force, and the powerful "Blues March" featuring Blakey's signature shuffle groove. A delightful reading of the standard "Come Rain or Come Shine" caps it all off. This is arguably the quintessential Blakey disc.© TiVo

The seventh solo studio album from the iconic Iron Maiden vocalist is his first in nearly 20 years, following 2005's Tyranny of Souls. The album was co-written and produced by Roy Z (Judas Priest, Sepultura), who also contributes guitars and bass, and Puddle of Mudd's Dave Moreno plays drums. Dickinson continues his fascination with classic literature, ancient cultures, myths, and legends, with an overarching fantasy concept which is also the basis for an accompanying comic book series.© John D. Buchanan /TiVo

Beginning with Swordfishtrombones, released in September 1983, Tom Waits' turn towards cabaret blues-rock (that had more to do with Bertolt Brecht than George Gerswhin) was brilliantly confirmed on Rain Dogs two years later. Marc Ribot, the genius behind this masterstroke, brought a unique, unregimented guitar sound to the Californian bluesman, finding a perfect osmosis with his wavering organ. Also on six-string, another big name was on hand for a few tracks: Keith Richards! With his crazy stories, improbable stopovers between New York and Singapore, UFO sounds, disfigured blues and drunken waltzes, Waits dares to do it all, and delivers some of his finest songs, such as Downtown Train and Jockey Full Of Bourbon. Behind the brilliant array of crazier instruments that give our modern-day Howlin' Wolf his unique identity, Rain Dogs offers some truly timeless songs.    © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

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

Since she first appeared on the scene in the mid-90s, amongst a small but genuine group of artists who claim jazz as an unambiguously ‘native’ musical language, Stacey Kent has consistently innovated her stylistic palette, drawing in new audiences without ever needing to sacrifice her own sound, or her artistic integrity. Her new record is the latest example of her artistic versatility. Kent’s talents as a performer are on full display here, in a complete work that includes three original pieces and a series of classics drawn from Broadway musicals, film scores, French chanson tradition, and Brazilian music.She is accompanied on the record by a small and vibrant jazz ensemble under the artistic direction of her longtime collaborator – multi-instrumentalist and arranger Jim Tomlinson. She navigates multiple languages, and seamlessly transitions with virtuosity and flawless musicality from Michel Legrand's lyricism (“Summer me,Winter me”, “La valse des lilas”) to Carlos Jobim's heady sensuality (“Corcovado”), with the light sophistication of the melodies of Richard Rogers' (“Happy Talk”) or Frederick Loewe (“Show Me”) to the poignant gravity of Jacques Brel (the classic “Ne me quitte pas” sung in French and its English version “If You Go Away”). In each of these pieces, with her clear and vibrant timbre, fluid articulation, and innate sense of swing, Stacey Kent once again demonstrates real artistic originality, through her sensual and sophisticated vocals, full of emotional nuance. © Stéphane Ollivier/Qobuz

Proving that she's both fearless and capable of almost anything musically, Dolly Parton has taken her induction in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame seriously and made a rock album built from a slew of favorite mainstream covers and several originals she wrote for the occasion. The respect she commands as a worldwide celebrity is reflected by the massive guest list whose vocal tracks were recorded elsewhere and mixed together in Nashville by producer Kent Wells and a veritable horde of engineers. Vocalists who make an appearance on the songs that they originally made famous include Sting ("Every Breath You Take"), Steve Perry ("Open Arms"), Elton John ("Don't Let the Sun Go Down"), Debbie Harry ("Heart of Glass"), and Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr ("Let It Be"). The voice of Lynyrd Skynyrd lead vocalist Ronnie Van Zant returns from the grave to sing a verse and duet on the choruses in the epic and appropriate closer, "Free Bird."  While Parton could have allowed a smile to peak out here or there on this massive undertaking, she plays it straight throughout.  Not surprisingly, women receive commendable attention as songwriters and guest players with performances by Ann Wilson, Parton's goddaughter Miley Cyrus, Stevie Nicks, Joan Jett, Lizzo and others. There are also flashes where Parton stops playing rock star. Her original "World on Fire" is a plea for unity and common sense to will out: "Now tell me what is truth/ Have we all lost sight/ Of common decency/ Of the wrong and right/ How do we heal this great divide/ Do we care enough to try?" What makes these 30 tracks work is that no one can sell it quite like Parton. While her voice strains on some  numbers—she's always been more of a careful interpreter than a furious belter—she's full of old pro wiles and is the soul of authenticity throughout; she gives her all to every number. In the rousing "(I Can't Get No) "Satisfaction" with P!nk and Brandy Carlile, Parton's between-line exhortations are heartfelt and spot on. Rather than arty re-interpretations or an empty marketing concept, this is an abundance of what Parton does best: feel the songs she's singing.  © Robert Baird/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

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's cottage-core era is over. For the singer's 10th album, she's revived the best bits of her 1989 album—the chill of "Blank Space," "Style"—and re-thought them for the moment. It's synth pop that's not trying to be perfect (which isn't to say every move Swift makes isn't calculated): Sometimes the sounds are warped, even grotesque. The vocals on"Midnight Rain" are slowed and warped to a David Lynch-ian place. It's ironic that Maggie Rogers borrowed a touch of Swift's folksy side for her latest record, because Midnights often sounds like Rogers' electro-pop. You can hear it on bubbling "Karma" and  "Lavender Haze," which finds Swift feeling constrained by society's prudish expectations on celebrities—the constant questions about engagements, marriage, children. "All they keep asking me/ Is if I'm gonna be your bride," she seems to be saying to longtime boyfriend Joe Alwyn. "The only kinda girl they see/ Is a one-night or a wife." There are also shades of Lorde—another collaborator of Swift's producer Jack Antonoff—on  "Vigilante Shit," with its ice-cold beats. The song is supposedly a stiletto to the heart of Swift's  former manager—the one who sold the singer's master recordings out from under her. "I don't start shit, but I can tell you how it ends," she sings, seemingly having revealed that she gave a wife the evidence needed for a pricey divorce settlement. Twee "Snow on the Beach" features (barely, thanks to Antonoff's lasagna-thick vocal layers) Lana Del Rey  and a quick nod to a Jackson —"I'm all for you like Janet," name-checking the singer's 2001 hit—who sent Swift flowers in 2009 after Kanye West stole her moment at the VMAs. And while Swift keeps her loyalties close and her enmities closer, the one big surprise of Midnights is that she exposes a new villain: herself. "Did you hear my covert narcissism/ I disguise as altruism/ Like some kind of congressman?" she sings on the the album's best track "Anti-Hero," addressing years of public skepticism. "Hi/ I'm the problem/ It's me." ("This song really is a guided tour throughout all of the things I tend to hate about myself," Swift has said.) And then there's the charming closer "Mastermind," on which she confesses both to making a romantic meeting look accidental and reveals the origin story of her calculating ways: "No one wanted to play with me as a little kid/ So I've been scheming like a criminal ever since/ To make them love me and make it seem effortless." Musically, "You're on Your Own, Kid" feels as light and innocent as an early Swift country song. Lyrically, it's as revealing as anything she's ever committed to tape: "I gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this/ I hosted parties and starved my body … My friends from home don't know what to say/ I looked around in a blood-soaked gown/ And I saw something they can't take away/ 'Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned." © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz  

Prince designed Purple Rain as the project that would make him a superstar, and, surprisingly, that is exactly what happened. Simultaneously more focused and ambitious than any of his previous records, Purple Rain finds Prince consolidating his funk and R&B roots while moving boldly into pop, rock, and heavy metal with nine superbly crafted songs. Even its best-known songs don't tread conventional territory: the bass-less "When Doves Cry" is an eerie, spare neo-psychedelic masterpiece; "Let's Go Crazy" is a furious blend of metallic guitars, Stonesy riffs, and a hard funk backbeat; the anthemic title track is a majestic ballad filled with brilliant guitar flourishes. Although Prince's songwriting is at a peak, the presence of the Revolution pulls the music into sharper focus, giving it a tougher, more aggressive edge. And, with the guidance of Wendy and Lisa, Prince pushed heavily into psychedelia, adding swirling strings to the dreamy "Take Me With U" and the hard rock of "Baby I'm a Star." Even with all of his new, but uncompromising, forays into pop, Prince hasn't abandoned funk, and the robotic jam of "Computer Blue" and the menacing grind of "Darling Nikki" are among his finest songs. Taken together, all of the stylistic experiments add up to a stunning statement of purpose that remains one of the most exciting rock & roll albums ever recorded.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

The Battle at Garden's Gate is the kind of album title that accurately reflects the contents within. Greta Van Fleet isn't much concerned with the modern world, preferring to live in a fantasy of their own creation, one cobbled together with ideas learned from old albums from Led Zeppelin, Rush, and Styx. All these elements were in place on their 2018 debut Anthem of the Peaceful Army, but they're amplified on The Battle at Garden's Gate, an album that makes everything that worked the first time bigger and louder, or just more. The group's unexpected success meant they had the power to enlist an A-list producer, so they brought Greg Kurstin -- a Grammy winner for his work with Adele and Beck who also helmed records by Paul McCartney and Foo Fighters -- into the studio to help shape their fanciful notions and heavy riffs. Kurstin manages to conjure the expansive vistas that were so common in 1974, letting the band puff up their pomp and ramble on. As texture is Greta Van Fleet's main gift, this is for the best: the extra length gives the impression that the group is in control of their fantasy. This spell works best when guitarist Jake Kiszka, bassist Sam Kiszka, and drummer Danny Wagner labor to conjure the ghost of Houses of the Holy, paying rapt attention to the slight shifts in light and shade. The spell is punctured whenever Josh Kiszka stumbles in to caterwaul his tales of barbarians and nations. More Geddy Lee than Robert Plant, Josh Kiszka commands attention then alienates; his wail is the weak link in a group who is getting better at their period-accurate cosplay.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Dirt is Alice in Chains' major artistic statement and the closest they ever came to recording a flat-out masterpiece. It's a primal, sickening howl from the depths of Layne Staley's heroin addiction, and one of the most harrowing concept albums ever recorded. Not every song on Dirt is explicitly about heroin, but Jerry Cantrell's solo-written contributions (nearly half the album) effectively maintain the thematic coherence -- nearly every song is imbued with the morbidity, self-disgust, and/or resignation of a self-aware yet powerless addict. Cantrell's technically limited but inventive guitar work is by turns explosive, textured, and queasily disorienting, keeping the listener off balance with atonal riffs and off-kilter time signatures. Staley's stark confessional lyrics are similarly effective, and consistently miserable. Sometimes he's just numb and apathetic, totally desensitized to the outside world; sometimes his self-justifications betray a shockingly casual amorality; his moments of self-recognition are permeated by despair and suicidal self-loathing. Even given its subject matter, Dirt is monstrously bleak, closely resembling the cracked, haunted landscape of its cover art. The album holds out little hope for its protagonists (aside from the much-needed survival story of "Rooster," a tribute to Cantrell's Vietnam-vet father), but in the end, it's redeemed by the honesty of its self-revelation and the sharp focus of its music. [Some versions of Dirt feature "Down in a Hole" as the next-to-last track rather than the fourth.]© Steve Huey /TiVo

Although Wes Montgomery found the most commercial success with his Creed Taylor-produced albums for Verve and A&M Records, the nine-albums-in-four-years run that he had on Riverside from 1959 to 1963 was where he established himself as one of the preeminent jazz guitarists of the hard bop and soul-jazz era. The clarity and energy of those Riverside albums, along with his unique picking style, helped Montgomery carve out a new lane for funky improvisation that was accessible but also technically satisfying. Montgomery's music during this period—sprightly, melodic, and built upon the interplay of the musicians in his group—seems tailor-made for a concert environment, so it's surprising that only one live album was released during his Riverside era. But oh, what a live album it is. First released in November 1962 (his fifth album as a leader on Riverside), Full House was recorded just a few months earlier at the Tsubo Coffee House in Berkeley, California, and captures Montgomery leading a talent-packed quintet featuring Johnny Griffin, Wynton Kelly, Paul Chambers, and Jimmy Cobb. In the intimate environment of a club gig, this group is positively electric, and, given that Riverside boss Orrin Keepnews encouraged the band to perform multiple takes to construct a live album, the documentation here is exceptional. Although Full House was delivered as a concise, all-killer, no-filler, six-track album, over the years it has been expanded to include many of those alternate takes. A 2007 reissue doubled the initial length and seemed to be comprehensive, but this 2023 Complete Full House edition tacks on a previously unreleased and unedited version of the title cut that restores Montgomery's original solo. Wisely, the original album—in beautifully remastered form—is the foundation of this edition, and presented with its running order intact. Highlights abound throughout the remainder of the set, however, whether it's Paul Chambers' stunning bass solo on an alternate take of Dizzy Gillespie's "Blue 'n' Boogie" or that previously unreleased master take of "Full House." Although a few tracks are here in two or three different versions, the pacing and sequencing of the record never feels weedy or redundant, even when these alternate takes are presented back to back, making a strong testament to the versatility and vitality of Montgomery and his band. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

Perhaps Tom Waits' most cohesive album, Bone Machine is a morbid, sinister nightmare, one that applied the quirks of his experimental '80s classics to stunningly evocative -- and often harrowing -- effect. In keeping with the title's grotesque image of the human body, Bone Machine is obsessed with decay and mortality, the ease with which earthly existence can be destroyed. The arrangements are accordingly stripped of all excess flesh; the very few, often non-traditional instruments float in distinct separation over the clanking junkyard percussion that dominates the record. It's a chilling, primal sound made all the more otherworldly (or, perhaps, underworldly) by Waits' raspy falsetto and often-distorted roars and growls. Matching that evocative power is Waits' songwriting, which is arguably the most consistently focused it's ever been. Rich in strange and extraordinarily vivid imagery, many of Waits' tales and musings are spun against an imposing backdrop of apocalyptic natural fury, underlining the insignificance of his subjects and their universally impending doom. Death is seen as freedom for the spirit, an escape from the dread and suffering of life in this world -- which he paints as hellishly bleak, full of murder, suicide, and corruption. The chugging, oddly bouncy beats of the more uptempo numbers make them even more disturbing -- there's a detached nonchalance beneath the horrific visions. Even the narrator of the catchy, playful "I Don't Wanna Grow Up" seems hopeless in this context, but that song paves the way for the closer "That Feel," an ode to the endurance of the human soul (with ultimate survivor Keith Richards on harmony vocals). The more upbeat ending hardly dispels the cloud of doom hanging over the rest of Bone Machine, but it does give the listener a gentler escape from that terrifying sonic world. All of it adds up to Waits' most affecting and powerful recording, even if it isn't his most accessible.© Steve Huey /TiVo

Welcome To The Jungle, It’s So Easy, Nightrain, Mr Brownstone, Paradise City, My Michelle, Sweet Child O’ Mine, You’re Crazy… Look no further to explain the success of this monument that sold over thirty million copies worldwide: right from the start, it feels like a best-of album rather than a first studio effort… Even Out Ta Get Me, Think About You, Anything Goes and Rocket Queen, the four “weak tracks” of this masterpiece, would have satisfied fans of other bands who were sick of Guns N’ Roses at the time. Add to this two tracks that were sidelined at the time mostly for copyright reasons and are unearthed here, Shadow Of Your Love and Move To The City, as well as the studio version of Reckless Life. Though they feel like a walking disaster, this mighty gang had something others didn’t have in the microcosm of the Los Angeles hard rock scene: the ability to give birth to rock classics in record time. Some will no doubt find it unjust that the controversial track One In A Million was a kind of collateral victim of the reissue of Lies, from which it was removed. But this improved rerelease goes to show that, even if it wasn’t necessarily their goal, the musicians’ sound and performance are also two major components in any masterpiece. The reason they decided to include the before and after Appetite For Destruction, meaning the two EPs Live?!*@ Like a Suicide (the false live) and G N' R Lies, is because it is clear that all the ingredients were far from being in place at the Sound Studio where the twenty-ish alternative versions were recorded, featured here as a “bonus”. Mike Clink’s expert production, and Steve Thompson and Michael Barbiero’s calibrated and well-balanced mixing obviously helped give the selected original twelve songs their ultimate form. And therefore optimal efficiency. But other live or acoustic titles gleaned here and there to close out this reissue (Bob Dylan’s Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door (Live), It’s So Easy (Live), AC/DC’s Whole Lotta Rosie (Live), November Rain (Acoustic), the very short but promising The Plague, the instrumental Ain’t Goin’ Down No More or the Rolling Stones’ Jumpin’ Jack Flash (Acoustic)) prove that the band’s five members went through a period, albeit much too short, in which they were touched by grace. And there will most likely be further proof if one day Axl Rose decides to unearth the version of the album he re-recorded in 1999 with the new Guns N’ Roses line-up, without Slash, Izzy Stradlin, Duff McKagan and Steven Adler. It was with this winning cast that Guns N' Roses beat the ultimate sales record for a first album in the United States. And although the multiple line-up evolutions that followed didn’t lead to any commercial disasters, they never gave the band the opportunity to repeat the feat of Appetite For Destruction. © Jean-Pierre Sabouret/Qobuz

Following on the heels of an album where he repudiated his past with his greatest backing band, Blood on the Tracks finds Bob Dylan, in a way, retreating to the past, recording a largely quiet, acoustic-based album. But this is hardly nostalgia -- this is the sound of an artist returning to his strengths, what feels most familiar, as he accepts a traumatic situation, namely the breakdown of his marriage. This is an album alternately bitter, sorrowful, regretful, and peaceful, easily the closest he ever came to wearing his emotions on his sleeve. That's not to say that it's an explicitly confessional record, since many songs are riddles or allegories, yet the warmth of the music makes it feel that way. The original version of the album was even quieter -- first takes of "Idiot Wind" and "Tangled Up in Blue," available on The Bootleg Series, Vols. 1-3, are hushed and quiet (excised verses are quoted in the liner notes, but not heard on the record) -- but Blood on the Tracks remains an intimate, revealing affair since these harsher takes let his anger surface the way his sadness does elsewhere. As such, it's an affecting, unbearably poignant record, not because it's a glimpse into his soul, but because the songs are remarkably clear-eyed and sentimental, lovely and melancholy at once. And, in a way, it's best that he was backed with studio musicians here, since the professional, understated backing lets the songs and emotion stand at the forefront. Dylan made albums more influential than this, but he never made one better.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo