When Daft Punk announced they were releasing a new album eight years after 2005's Human After All, fans were starved for new material. The Tron: Legacy score indulged the duo's sci-fi fantasies but didn't offer much in the way of catchy songs, so when Random Access Memories' extensive publicity campaign featured tantalizing clips of a new single, "Get Lucky," their fan base exploded. But when the album finally arrived, that hugely hyped single was buried far down its track list, emphasizing that most of these songs are very much not like "Get Lucky" -- or a lot of the pair's previous music, at least on the surface. The album isn't much like 2010s EDM, either. Instead, Daft Punk separate themselves from most contemporary electronic music and how it's made, enlisting some of their biggest influences to help them get the sounds they needed without samples. On Homework's "Teachers," they reverently name-checked a massive list of musicians and producers. Here, they place themselves on equal footing with disco masterminds Nile Rodgers and Giorgio Moroder, who shares his thoughts on making music with wild guitar and synth solos trailing behind him on one of RAM's definitive moments, "Giorgio by Moroder." Elsewhere, Daft Punk celebrate their close relationship with indie music on the lovely "Doin' It Right," which makes the most of Panda Bear's boyish vocals, and on the Julian Casablancas cameo "Instant Crush," which is only slightly more electronic than the Strokes' Comedown Machine. And of course, Pharrell Williams is the avatar of their dancefloor mastery on the sweaty disco of "Lose Yourself to Dance" and "Get Lucky," which is so suave that it couldn't help but be an instant classic, albeit a somewhat nostalgic one. "Memories" is the album's keyword: As Daft Punk celebrate the late '70s and early '80s with deluxe homages like "Give Life Back to Music" -- one of several terrific showcases for Rodgers -- and the spot-on soft rock of the Todd Edwards collaboration "Fragments of Time," they tap into the wonder and excitement in that era's music. A particularly brilliant example is "Touch," where singer/songwriter Paul Williams conflates his work in Phantom of the Paradise and The Muppet Movie in the song's mystique, charm, and unabashed emotions. Daft Punk have never shied away from "uncool" influences or sentimentality, and both are on full display throughout Random Access Memories. It's the kind of grand, album rock statement that listeners of the '70s and '80s would have spent weeks or months dissecting and absorbing -- the ambition of Steely Dan, Alan Parsons, and Pink Floyd are as vital to the album as any of the duo's collaborators. For the casual Daft Punk fan, this album might be harder to love than "Get Lucky" hinted; it might be too nostalgic, too overblown, a shirking of the group's duty to rescue dance music from the Young Turks who cropped up in their absence. But Random Access Memories is also Daft Punk's most personal work, and richly rewarding for listeners willing to spend time with it.© Heather Phares /TiVo

All tracks are in 24/88.2 excepted the track 4 from disc 2 "Infiniting Repeating (2013 demo)" which is in 24/44.1.Two years after Daft Punk's split in February 2021, comes a reissue of their decade-old final album Random Access Memories in a deluxe version with a nine-track disc bringing together studio outtakes, demos and unreleased tracks. Included are "Horizon" (a ballad released only in the Japanese version at the time), two minutes of vocoder testing by Pharrell Williams for "Lose Yourself to Dance," and two unreleased tracks: "Prime (2012 Unfinished)," which didn't make it to original release, and the soulful "Infinity Repeating (2013 Demo)" featuring Julian Casablancas and The Voidz. (Casablancas would end up on RAM with "Instant Crush.") There's also the delightful "The Writing of Fragments of Time," an eight-minute behind-the-scenes track which puts us in the studio with Daft Punk and producer Todd Edwards as they discuss this "beach road" song, and create it all at once. Thirty-five minutes of bonus material ends with "Touch (2021 Epilogue)," the track composed with their idol Paul Williams, and chosen as the soundtrack for the band's farewell video in 2021. This is a deluxe version that is well worth chasing after. © Smaël Bouaici/Qobuz

When Daft Punk announced they were releasing a new album eight years after 2005's Human After All, fans were starved for new material. The Tron: Legacy score indulged the duo's sci-fi fantasies but didn't offer much in the way of catchy songs, so when Random Access Memories' extensive publicity campaign featured tantalizing clips of a new single, "Get Lucky," their fan base exploded. But when the album finally arrived, that hugely hyped single was buried far down its track list, emphasizing that most of these songs are very much not like "Get Lucky" -- or a lot of the pair's previous music, at least on the surface. The album isn't much like 2010s EDM, either. Instead, Daft Punk separate themselves from most contemporary electronic music and how it's made, enlisting some of their biggest influences to help them get the sounds they needed without samples. On Homework's "Teachers," they reverently name-checked a massive list of musicians and producers. Here, they place themselves on equal footing with disco masterminds Nile Rodgers and Giorgio Moroder, who shares his thoughts on making music with wild guitar and synth solos trailing behind him on one of RAM's definitive moments, "Giorgio by Moroder." Elsewhere, Daft Punk celebrate their close relationship with indie music on the lovely "Doin' It Right," which makes the most of Panda Bear's boyish vocals, and on the Julian Casablancas cameo "Instant Crush," which is only slightly more electronic than the Strokes' Comedown Machine. And of course, Pharrell Williams is the avatar of their dancefloor mastery on the sweaty disco of "Lose Yourself to Dance" and "Get Lucky," which is so suave that it couldn't help but be an instant classic, albeit a somewhat nostalgic one. "Memories" is the album's keyword: As Daft Punk celebrate the late '70s and early '80s with deluxe homages like "Give Life Back to Music" -- one of several terrific showcases for Rodgers -- and the spot-on soft rock of the Todd Edwards collaboration "Fragments of Time," they tap into the wonder and excitement in that era's music. A particularly brilliant example is "Touch," where singer/songwriter Paul Williams conflates his work in Phantom of the Paradise and The Muppet Movie in the song's mystique, charm, and unabashed emotions. Daft Punk have never shied away from "uncool" influences or sentimentality, and both are on full display throughout Random Access Memories. It's the kind of grand, album rock statement that listeners of the '70s and '80s would have spent weeks or months dissecting and absorbing -- the ambition of Steely Dan, Alan Parsons, and Pink Floyd are as vital to the album as any of the duo's collaborators. For the casual Daft Punk fan, this album might be harder to love than "Get Lucky" hinted; it might be too nostalgic, too overblown, a shirking of the group's duty to rescue dance music from the Young Turks who cropped up in their absence. But Random Access Memories is also Daft Punk's most personal work, and richly rewarding for listeners willing to spend time with it.© Heather Phares /TiVo

One of the founders of the Swiss synth pop band Yello, Boris Blank empties his solo vaults on Electrified, an archival set that came into being with some help from online crowd-funding. The 40 tracks here are mostly instrumental, some of them simple sketches, while others sound complete. Blank's trademarks -- gurgling synths, deep bass, Latin rhythms -- are all present, and while this quirky, infectious set will likely please all as cheeky audio wallpaper, Yello fans will get the most out of all these peeks behind the curtain. Ambitious fans who missed the boat might seek out the original, crowd-funded special edition which adds more music and artwork.© David Jeffries /TiVo

Within the realms of metal, few bands are more esoteric and left-brained than Meshuggah. These Swedes make music for clinically minded deconstructionists, and one really has to reduce Meshuggah's sound to its individual elements before seeing the overall picture. Nothing, their fourth full-length slab, only further cements their place as masterminds of cosmic calculus metal -- call it Einstein metal if you want -- and, to their credit, they're really the only ones to fall into said sub-subgenre. When odd riff cycles, robotic death vocals, neo-jazz chromatics, and mathematical songwriting are your primary weapons, it would seem easy to paint yourself into a corner creatively -- so where is Meshuggah to go after Destroy Erase Improve, the band's powerful statement of intent, and its follow-up, the suffocatingly violent and clattery Chaosphere? Well, besides being heavier -- guitarists Marten Hagstrom and Fredrik Thordendal used eight-string guitars to give extra growl to their off-kilter, occasionally dissonant chording -- the appropriately titled Nothing boasts more spacious arrangements, the jarring tempo and time shifts colliding with each other until the songs collapse on themselves like black holes (see "Glints Collide" and the seven-plus minutes of "Closed Eye Visual"). From there, light bends into "Nothing," the theme of the record rooted in existentialism and the psychic trauma it causes on the brain -- and so goes the cranium stretching, through "Straws Pulled at Random," "Spasm," and the creepily invigorating lunar strains of "Obsidian," all being anti-melodic, teeth-grinding jaunts into opaque mathematical regions, importing small amounts of Tool's psychedelia into the group's Death-by-way-of-Gang of Four sonic maelstrom. Nothing truly gives new meaning to the word heavy, redefining boundaries by pushing metal into the realms of abstract science; for those lucky enough to be tuned into Meshuggah's unique wavelength, the album, like all good art, tickles the subconscious while probing both the internal (the mind) and the external (space). And when Meshuggah explores, it's into uncharted territory. If only more metal bands could be so daring.© John Serba /TiVo

In 2020, before the pandemic, Kevin Morby was at his parents' home in Kansas City when his father collapsed at the dinner table and had to be rushed to the hospital. Hours later, still rattled, Morby was going through family photos when he came across one of his dad as a young man—strong, full of confidence, standing tall with his shirt off. He was struck by the reality of aging and inevitable frailty, and how it robs us all of that youthful confidence, even as the memories live within us (and in photographs). He turned those feelings into the song "This Is a Photograph": "Your father on the front lawn/ With no shirt on/ Ready to take the world on"; "Your mother in a skirt/ In the cool Kentucky dirt." The melody snakes and, pushed hard by horns, Morby's chant builds to a frenzy: "This is what I'll miss about being alive/ This is what I'll miss when I die." The singer-songwriter took off to Memphis to make his seventh album. There, he found himself living with ghosts—like the memory of Jeff Buckley, who drowned there in 1997. "If you go down to Memphis, please don't go swimming in the Mississippi River," he sings on the undulating "Disappearing": "If you're not appearing, then you'll disap—" his voice doing just that with the snap of fingers. "A Coat of Butterflies"—with its lonely sax and lilting harp—is an even more direct tribute to Buckley, bouncing between talking to the late singer and about him. "I heard the mighty Mississippi took you away with just one punch/ I heard you had the voice of a sweetheart/ But the sweetheart was out getting drunk," Morby sings. "Have you heard Buckley singing 'Hallelujah'?/ He did what Leonard never could to it/ Gave it wings and then away it was." There's a beautiful duet with Erin Rae, "Bittersweet, TN," that also weighs the cost of time. A spartan banjo and punch-drunk fiddle provide accompaniment as the singers finish each other's verses, Rae's voice as clear as a mountain stream. The Bob Dylan quality (with a little Lou Reed creeping in now and again) of Morby's own warm voice is especially obvious on songs like "A Random Act of Kindness," "Stop Before I Cry" and back-alley-Memphis-moody "Five Easy Pieces." Garage-ready "Rock Bottom" stirs up another (still very much alive) Memphis spirit, Tav Falco, with its fuzzy low-end guzzle and wildness—"It's cold down here/ Rock bottom!"—complete with maniacal laughter from absurdist comedy stars Alia Shawkat and Tim Heidecker. The piano feels like a ray of light on "It's Over," even as Morby wrestles with loss (the line "January turned to firewood" is absolutely haunted)." And the singer does his best Leonard Cohen on closer "Goodbye to Good Times," a relaxed-fit slice of nostalgia referencing Mickey Mantle, Tina Turner and the ingrained notion that the heroes of our youth are the best. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Within the realms of metal, few bands are more esoteric and left-brained than Meshuggah. These Swedes make music for clinically minded deconstructionists, and one really has to reduce Meshuggah's sound to its individual elements before seeing the overall picture. Nothing, their fourth full-length slab, only further cements their place as masterminds of cosmic calculus metal -- call it Einstein metal if you want -- and, to their credit, they're really the only ones to fall into said sub-subgenre. When odd riff cycles, robotic death vocals, neo-jazz chromatics, and mathematical songwriting are your primary weapons, it would seem easy to paint yourself into a corner creatively -- so where is Meshuggah to go after Destroy Erase Improve, the band's powerful statement of intent, and its follow-up, the suffocatingly violent and clattery Chaosphere? Well, besides being heavier -- guitarists Marten Hagstrom and Fredrik Thordendal used eight-string guitars to give extra growl to their off-kilter, occasionally dissonant chording -- the appropriately titled Nothing boasts more spacious arrangements, the jarring tempo and time shifts colliding with each other until the songs collapse on themselves like black holes (see "Glints Collide" and the seven-plus minutes of "Closed Eye Visual"). From there, light bends into "Nothing," the theme of the record rooted in existentialism and the psychic trauma it causes on the brain -- and so goes the cranium stretching, through "Straws Pulled at Random," "Spasm," and the creepily invigorating lunar strains of "Obsidian," all being anti-melodic, teeth-grinding jaunts into opaque mathematical regions, importing small amounts of Tool's psychedelia into the group's Death-by-way-of-Gang of Four sonic maelstrom. Nothing truly gives new meaning to the word heavy, redefining boundaries by pushing metal into the realms of abstract science; for those lucky enough to be tuned into Meshuggah's unique wavelength, the album, like all good art, tickles the subconscious while probing both the internal (the mind) and the external (space). And when Meshuggah explores, it's into uncharted territory. If only more metal bands could be so daring.© John Serba /TiVo

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When Nirvana and Pearl Jam exploded commercially in the early '90s, there was a real "out with the old, in with the new" attitude in the rock world -- out with pop-metal, hair metal, fantasy metal and '80s-style arena rock -- and in with all things alternative. Some '80s favorites were still considered modern and cutting-edge after that Nirvana/Pearl Jam upheaval -- Metallica, for example -- although many '80s bands suddenly found themselves being described as dated or old-school. Nonetheless, some alt rock albums have longed for that hooky, shiny, big-sounding '80s pop-metal/arena rock gloss; Hole's Celebrity Skin (1999) and Veruca Salt's Eight Arms to Hold You (1997) were alt rock treasures that, in their own way, seemed to be saying, "Hey, let's not forget everything the '70s and '80s stood for." And similarly, singer/guitarist Devin Townsend's Accelerated Evolution is an alt rock disc that successfully draws on different eras. This album isn't flat-out retro; the Canadian rocker provides enough downtuned guitars to put this CD in the alt rock category. And yet Accelerated Evolution has a big sound that suggests the pop-metal, arena rock and hard rock of the '70s and '80s -- big melodies, big harmonies, big guitars, big vocals, big production. Yes, Townsend provides downtuned guitar and chugging guitar, but he also provides a lot of gloss and brightness -- the sort of gloss and brightness that '70s and '80s arena rockers brought to the studio. Another thing about Townsend that recalls those decades is his sense of pop/rock craftsmanship; Accelerated Evolution is extremely listenable. The fact that Townsend's credits includes Steve Vai and Front Line Assembly tells you how far-reaching and eclectic he is, and it also explains how he manages to make a blend of '70s/'80s arena rock/pop-metal and '90s/2000s alt rock sound so logical and coherent on this excellent CD.© Alex Henderson /TiVo

For his first album since 2020's A N N I V E R S A R Y, Bryson Tiller worked closest with Charlie Heat, the producer with whom he'd previously linked up with to make an amped-up, age-appropriate song for the soundtrack of PAW Patrol: The Mighty Movie. Rest assured, Heat and a team of over 40 additional producers help Tiller in crafting a surprisingly coherent LP of contemporary R&B ballads full of sweet nothings, boasts, grievances, and ultimatums. The most stimulating songs tend to carry a hint of nostalgia, such as the sumptuous Victoria Monét duet "Persuasion," the longing "Outside" (bringing back snap&B with an assist from Ying Yang Twins' "Wait"), and the swaying "Attention" (evoking the-Dream in Purple Rain-era Prince mode). Easily the most popular song here is something else entirely -- an extended version of "Whatever She Wants," originally from the second volume of Tiller's Slum Tiller series of SoundCloud rap mixtapes. It's the most aggressive and ill-mannered track here, but it doesn't sound anymore tacked on than what precedes it, "Assume the Position," a speedy pop-funk number that's all about indelicate flirtation.© Andy Kellman /TiVo

Agitation Free's 2nd stands as one of Germany's finest instrumental rock albums of the 1970s and a classic for fans of progressive rock and Krautrock. Despite the fact that the group had problems keeping its cohesion at the time, these troubles never affect the music. 2nd presented a daring blend of Krautrock-type extended jams, laid-back attitude, and experimentation. The music remains very psychedelic in nature, more early Can than Faust. The presence of acoustic guitars and bouzouki emphasizes the easygoing nature of the music, along with Stefan Diez's elegant guitar soloing, while occasional free-form passages keep things on the edge. The opener, "First Communication," is pure Krautrock and the hardest-driving tune. It belongs on every anthology of German rock. Michael Hoenig's synthesizer experiment "Dialogue and Random" provides an interlude before the two-part "Laila" kicks in. The latter juxtaposes prog rock and fusion jazz sections with beautiful audacity. Side B of the original LP is a lot quieter. Birds chirp at the beginning of "In the Silence of the Morning Sunrise" and the pastoral mood carries over to the nine-minute "A Quiet Walk." "Haunted Island" ends with a midtempo rock number featuring a recitation of Edgar Allan Poe's "Dreamland." Filled with Mellotron and guitar jamming, it has often been hailed as a highlight by prog rock fans who had a hard time digesting the less immediate material, but it's actually weaker than what came before it -- without lessening the appeal of this album.© François Couture /TiVo

American Water, the Silver Jews' third full-length release, reunites David Berman and Stephen Malkmus and adds new members Mike Fellows, Tim Barnes, and Chris Stroffolino. Named after a poster Berman saw at his veterinarian's office for American Water Spaniels, the album boasts some of the Jews' best arrangements and playing, from the flute and brass-tinged "Random Rules" to the driven but eloquent guitars on "Night Society" to the wah-wah friendly, '70s-style pop of "People." American Water also varies in tempo and mood more than any Silver Jews album since Starlite Walker. "Send in the Clouds" and "Smith & Jones Forever" gallop along, while "We Are Real" and "The Wild Kindness" stroll. Though most of the album's lyrics aren't as personal as those on The Natural Bridge, they still feature Berman's detailed wit, like this couplet from "People": "The drums march along at the clip of an IV drip/Like sparks from a muffler dragged down the strip." The tight, sunny-sounding production sparkles on songs like "Honk if You're Lonely Tonight," and Berman's and Malkmus' twin vocals brighten songs like "Blue Arrangements" and "Federal Dust." As with all of the Jews' best work, American Water sounds like it was made for the band's own enjoyment, and the listener is just eavesdropping on their fun.© Heather Phares /TiVo

Wilco's 11th studio album, Star Wars, opens with "EKG," a 1:16 burst of skronky guitars that sounds like a few capable grad students imitating early Sonic Youth after a few beers, and if it seems like a goofy way to kick off the record, that's a big part of the album's charm. Wilco released Star Wars as a free download on July 16, 2015 with no advance notice (a day later, the band announced that the physical release would hit stores on August 21), and the element of surprise fits the playful, casual nature of the album. Where Wilco (The Album) and The Whole Love were enthusiastic but artful and crafted with care, Star Wars feels like an album full of experiments and happy accidents, 11 songs where the group members gathered in their rehearsal spot, rolled tape, and let their muse do what it will. Which is not to say Star Wars comes off as sloppy or uncertain; Jeff Tweedy's songs are a bit more angular than usual, but the melodies are typically strong and engaging (and often sweeter than their delivery suggests at first glance), and they give the performances a solid backbone. The relatively open spaces of these songs give Tweedy and lead guitarist Nels Cline more room to move than they've traditionally allowed themselves in the studio, and the ringing and buzzing patterns that provide the beds for "You Satellite" and "Pickled Ginger" (as well as the reverse tape loops on "Where Do I Begin") are the work of a band happy to tinker with its traditional framework. (And drummer Glenn Kotche does a splendid job of holding the various elements in place while adding thoughtful shade and color of his own.) Wilco rock with easygoing but real enthusiasm on tunes like "Random Name Generator" and "King of You" (both of which feature fuzz guitar that would do T. Rex proud), and if there are introspective moments in "Magnetized" and "Taste the Ceiling," compared to the contemplations of life and death on Sukierae (which Jeff Tweedy recorded with his son Spencer under the group name Tweedy), these songs find the group's leader on more comfortable ground, and the tone of Star Wars is that of some good friends tossing ideas against the wall and discovering that a surprising number of them stick. If the noisy sense of play was meant to be therapy for Jeff Tweedy and his bandmates, it seems to have worked; it has been quite some time since Wilco seemed to be enjoying themselves as much as they do here, and handing it out for free makes Star Wars feel a bit like a boombox rehearsal tape passed along to some friends, only with a great songwriter, a world-class band, and a seasoned recording engineer standing in for those beery college kids and a cheap cassette machine.© Mark Deming /TiVo

Expanding their scope on sophomore effort Any Random Kindness, U.K. electronic outfit Hælos took their early trip-hop revival sound and thawed the chill to reveal a lively, effervescent heart beating within. Hints of Moby's early-era house beats and the xx's atmospheric gloom remain, incorporating the spirits of Massive Attack and a little Underworld in the process (especially on "Boy/Girl"). Unlike introverted debut Full Circle, however, much of Any Random Kindness feels reinvigorated, urgent, and bursting with brightness, held together by the group's effortlessly cool veneers. Vocalists Lotti Benardout and Arthur Delaney once again trade duties, their back-and-forth interplay building tension, sensuality, and urgency while the beats and atmospherics -- courtesy of Dom Goldsmith and Daniel Vildósola -- throb and swell. Lyrically, the weight of the world, geopolitics, and uncertainty in the digital age provide moments of bittersweet uncertainty, but Hælos stay loyal to optimism and hope. Of the marquee moments, the rousing "Kyoto" stands tall. The sprawling track starts with familiar keys and a pulsing beat, hypnotizing as Benardout and Delaney layer their vocals; when the song builds to a dramatic, dancefloor-filling breakdown, Hælos throw everything they have at the finish. It's a thrill to experience and one that is challenged elsewhere by the hypnotic and luscious "Buried in the Sand," which whips up a trance-like frenzy of reverie, and "Empty Skies," a throwback to '90s soul/house sounds that stretches the lead pair's vocals. Likewise, "End of the World Party" maintains the nostalgia with a classic Lyn Collins/Rob Base & DJ E-Z Rock sample, connecting dancefloors across the decades through an infectious sonic wormhole. In addition to the party-starters, uplifting moments such as "So Long, Goodbye" and "Another Universe" elevate Any Random Kindness with grace, while the bluesy, piano-bar closer "Last One Out (Turn the Lights Off)" pulls everything together with a final plea for positivity and a light in the darkness. Cerebral yet soulful, Any Random Kindness strikes an ideal balance for Hælos, a significant step forward in their evolution.© Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo

Despite his oversized, illuminated mouse-head mask and song titles like "The Reward Is Cheese" and "A Song About Squirrels," Canadian producer Joel Zimmerman, aka Deadmau5, has avoided any gimmicky novelty act labels thanks to his subtle and understated brand of electronica, which incorporates everything from minimal techno to euphoric house to chilled-out trance, a sound he continues to pursue on third studio album, Random Album Title. Those only familiar with his breakthrough Top 20 collaboration with U.S. DJ Kaskade, "I Remember," a blissful blend of spacious synths, hypnotic beats, and the silky smooth tones of Haley Gibbs, may be slightly disappointed, as apart from the robotic narration on the woozy, Daft Punk-inspired opener "Sometimes Things Get, Whatever," it's the only vocal-led track on the entire album. Instead, the follow-up to 2006's Vexillology concentrates on the kind of instrumental epics favored by the likes of Tïesto, with hands-in-the-air floor-filling anthems like "Arguru," a dirty bass-led tribute to the late music software programmer Juan Antonio Arguelles Rius, the tribal progressive house of "Complications," and the warped techno of "So There I Was," nestling alongside after-party comedowns like the Vangelis-influenced "Faxing Berlin" (featured here in its original and piano acoustic versions), the kaleidoscopic minimalism of "Alone with You," and the gorgeous Chicane-esque dream trance of "Brazil (2nd Edit)," the track cleverly sampled to great effect by both Kylie Minogue and Alexis Jordan. Indeed, it's a shame that Deadmau5 himself didn't utilize the latter song's potential himself, as a few more vocal melodies might have compensated for the album's sparse repetitive production, which isn't interesting enough to justify the over-long 70-minute running time. Random Album Title shows enough promise to suggest that Deadmau5 could produce a classic in the future, but its self-indulgent, knob-twiddling nature makes it feel more like a recording of one of his DJ sets than a coherent studio album.© Jon O'Brien /TiVo

Branford Marsalis clearly had a lot of fun during this set. On seven of the ten numbers included on the double LP (the CD reissue actually has one less selection), Marsalis romps on tenor and soprano in a trio with veteran bassist Milt Hinton and drummer Jeff "Tain" Watts; the remaining three numbers have Delbert Felix in Hinton's place. The performances are quite spontaneous (the occasional mistakes were purposely left in) and Marsalis really romps on such tunes as "Three Little Words," "Makin' Whoopee," and "Doxy." On the joyful outing that is also one of Branford Marsalis' most accessible recordings, Milt Hinton often steals the show.© Scott Yanow /TiVo

If there is a single theme that runs through David Sylvian's Manafon, it's simply: "No hope...no doubt." Like 2003's Blemish, it's a rather difficult record, and its emotional and spiritual cousin. It's dark, fraught with emotional and musical difficulty, nonlinear sounds and improvised music, and lyric themes that express a tension between hopelessness and the love of everyday life. The title comes from the name of a village in Wales where the poet R.S. Thomas once lived, studied the Welsh language, and published his first three volumes. He is the principal muse for Manafon, though there are others. Much of the writing reflects -- like Blemish -- Sylvian's own struggles, though they are often (but not always) relegated to the third person. The studio musicians have either worked with Sylvian before or with one another: they include saxophonist Evan Parker, pianist John Tilbury, guitarists Christian Fennesz and Keith Rowe, members of Polwechsel, and turntablist/guitarist Otomo Yoshihide, among others. There are no drums. It must also be said that the presence of the late Derek Bailey (who worked on Blemish) is felt deeply on this recording, which was created on three continents. Despite these vanguard players, Manafon is not an avant jazz or "new music" record. It blurs all categories beautifully, and while it makes listeners work a bit, its payoff is a dark and luxuriant dream that cascades, floats, hovers, and changes both shape and shade often, and does so seamlessly. Sylvian's voice is front and center; it is so prominent that despite all of the instrumentation, in whatever musical conflagration chosen for a particular track, the voice is almost on its own. His phrases and lyrics were either improvised to fit the live sessions or were written in response to them. There are numerous electronic effects, but they never intrude on Sylvian's voice, which is simultaneously emotionally engaged in the process and yet detached from the actual emotions expressed in the songs themselves -- even when they are confessional in nature. The album opener, "Small Metal Gods," is an example, and one of the most moving tracks on the set. Accompanied by acoustic guitar, laptop, electronics, bass, and cello, he sings "...You balance things like you wouldn't believe, when you should just let things be/Yes you juggle things 'cause you can't lose sight of the wretched story line/It's the narrative that must go on, until the end of time/And you're guilty of some self-neglect, and the mind unravels for days/I've told you once, yes a thousand times, I'm better off this way...." Other standouts include "Random Acts of Senseless Violence," with stellar work by Yoshihide (who was instructed to use only the sounds of classical or modern chamber music), as well as Tilbury's ghostly piano. Parker shines on "The Rabbit Skinner," the lone instrumental "The Department of Dead Letters," and "Emily Dickinson." "Snow White in Appalachia" contains one of the most beautiful "melodies" on the set, and the closing title track is something so abstract yet memorable that it sums up both Sylvian's lyrical and musical themes as a strangely beautiful construction of their own even if at times they are disturbing. Manafon is a quiet yet forceful stunner, a recording that, if heard, is literally unforgettable. © Thom Jurek /TiVo

It is the seamless way the songs on the eponymously titled 311 combine the band's influences into a potent blend of rap, funk, and rock that renders this album a cut above those of their competitors. These riff-heavy and radio-ready songs are underscored by a tight drum sound (often with a piccolo snare), the scratching of turntables, and the crunch of heavy guitars: a formidable backdrop for this surprisingly melodic effort. The rhythms of reggae and ska percolate through this mix, and the harmonies of Nick Hexum and S.A. Martinez lend the band an edge not found in the majority of bands that feature rapping over rock beats.© Peter Stepek /TiVo