Released in September 2002, Forty Licks was the first compilation to bring together tracks from all of the Stones' different eras, and from all of the different labels they recorded for. The icing on these abundant forty tracks are four previously unreleased tracks: Don't Stop, Keys to Your Love, Stealing My Heart and Losing My Touch. There isn’t much to add beyond the tracklist, so many masterpieces follow one after the other: Street Fighting Man, Gimme Shelter, (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction, The Last Time, Jumpin' Jack Flash, Sympathy for the Devil, Wild Horses, Paint It, Black, Honky Tonk Women, Let's Spend the Night Together, Start Me Up, Brown Sugar, Miss You, Beast of Burden, Happy, Angie, It's Only Rock 'n Roll (But I Like It), and so on. The whole history of rock'n'roll (especially from the 60s and 70s) flashes before our ears. A magic trick lasting over two hours and forty minutes, during which the brilliant tandem Mick Jagger/Keith Richards invent a music nourished by blues, soul, country, gospel and funk. Vital! © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

Coasting on the success of Some Girls, the Stones offered more of the same on Emotional Rescue. Comprised of leftovers from the previous album's sessions and hastily written new numbers, Emotional Rescue may consist mainly of filler, but it's expertly written and performed filler. The Stones toss off throwaways like the reggae-fueled, mail-order bride anthem "Send It to Me" or rockers like "Summer Romance" and "Where the Boys Go" with an authority that makes the record a guilty pleasure, even if it's clear that only two songs -- the icy but sexy disco-rock of "Emotional Rescue" and the revamped Chuck Berry rocker "She's So Cold" -- come close to being classic Stones.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

One would think that being Ryan Adams would be a pretty good deal at the time of this album's release; he had a major-label deal, critics were in love with him, he got to date Winona Ryder and Alanis Morissette, Elton John went around telling everyone he was a genius, and his record company gave him carte blanche to do whatever he wanted. But to listen to Gold, Adams' first solo album for his big-league sponsors at Lost Highway, one senses that there are about a dozen other musicians Adams would love to be, and nearly all of them were at their peak in the early to mid-'70s. Adams' final album with Whiskeytown, Pneumonia, made it clear that he was moving beyond the scruffy alt-country of his early work, and Gold documents his current fascination with '70s rock. Half the fun of the album is playing "Spot the Influence": "Answering Bell" is a dead ringer for Van Morrison (with fellow Morrison enthusiast Adam Duritz on backing vocals), "Tina Toledo's Street Walkin' Blues" is obviously modeled on the Rolling Stones, "Harder Now That It's Over" sounds like Harvest-period Neil Young, "New York, New York" resembles Stephen Stills in his livelier moments (Stephen's son, Chris Stills, plays on the album), and "Rescue Blues" and "La Cienega Just Smiled" suggest the influence of Adams' pal Elton John. Of course, everyone has their influences, and Adams seems determined to make the most of them on Gold; it's a far more ambitious album than his solo debut, Heartbreaker. The performances are polished, Ethan Johns' production is at once elegant and admirably restrained, Adams is in strong voice throughout, and several of the songs are superb, especially the swaggering but lovelorn "New York, New York," the spare and lovely "When the Stars Go Blue," and the moody closer, "Goodnight, Hollywood Blvd." But while Gold sounds like a major step forward for Adams in terms of technique, it lacks the heart and soul of Heartbreaker or Pneumonia; the album seems to reflect craft rather than passion, and while it's often splendid craft, the fire that made Whiskeytown's best work so special isn't evident much of the time. Gold sounds like an album that could win Ryan Adams a lot of new fans (especially with listeners whose record collections go back a ways), but longtime fans may be a bit put off by the album's richly crafted surfaces and emotionally hollow core.© Mark Deming /TiVo

As a producer and songwriter, Ryan Tedder has remained atop contemporary trends since he began to ascend the industry ranks in the 2000s. Usually, that savvy eye and keen ear for what's hot has served him and his band OneRepublic well, amassing hit after hit in the pop mainstream. For their fifth studio set, 2021's Human, that approach mostly works. However, by including tracks that have been around since 2019, much of the effort feels like a time capsule of days gone by (especially in such an ever-changing genre) and, in a harsher sense, of dated material that can sound out of place when presented as a whole vision years later. Still, Tedder and company write such emotive and compelling songs that the asynchronous track listing can be overlooked by less critical listeners because they are so catchy. From their first single of 2019, "Rescue Me," to 2021's "Run," OneRepublic prove to be masters of the galloping, upbeat pop anthem, packing whistles, handclaps, throbbing basslines, and dance beats into every second of a song. Arenas, stadiums, clubs, and radio stations aren't safe from their motivational charms and affirmations, making uplifting moments like "Better Days" and "Someday" irresistible in their sheer optimism (if one is into that sort of positivity). For fans of the "classic" OneRepublic sound -- think 2013's globe-conquering Native -- the yearning "Distance" and soulful "Savior" are standouts. Also of note is the sweeping midtempo ballad "Somebody to Love," which was penned by JT Roach, the winner of the television songwriting competition Songland, which is hosted by Tedder and fellow producers Ester Dean and Shane McAnally. Overall, it's no surprise that there aren't many surprises on Human, just solid, inoffensive pop nuggets that soothe the soul and offer solace without challenging listeners with more than what real life throws at them each day. © Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo

New mainstream rock music today seems to need models to emulate. Like Joe Bonamassa and others before him, Marcus King—with help from producer Dan Auerbach—has chosen Billy Gibbons riff rock as a style and sound worth following. Even more than most Gibbons worshippers, King has clearly spent time listening to ZZ Top's 1973 masterpiece Tres Hombres. It's evident King is both paying tribute and copping inspiration with his riff at the center of  "Lie Lie Lie," not to mention bassist Nick Movshon's dirty tone and Chris St. Hillaire's fierce drumming on "Precious and Grace."  King makes it clear in the album's notes that he and Auerbach were focused on the ZZ Top that played stadiums in the mid-'70s. "Dan and I wanted to create a record with a big arena rock sound we don't really hear a lot now. We wanted tunes that were as big as the rooms we wanted to play." With a passable voice and convincing skills on his 1959 Les Paul, King even catches some of the lumbering riffage of Black Sabbath in the snaky ballad, "Aim High." With the vocal reverb and the easy-going choruses, "Hard Working Man" lifts the aural signature of another icon of the era, the Steve Miller Band.  The '70s homages don't all work. A tune like "Whisper" which could be a Bad Company or Lynyrd Skynyrd outtake, takes no chances and does little to advance King's vision. This is riff rock so words are of lesser importance. Without a mention of Bob Dylan, "Blood on the Tracks," where Auerbach adds the distinctive sound of the mellotron, King reaches, "Sunrise blazin' ahead of me/ On the edge of heaven and hell/ Freedom's gonna feel like amphetamines/ Ringin' like the Liberty Bell." To his and Auerbach's credit, Young Blood was cut in six days: "These songs are live performances. The whole damn thing is live—the solos and everything. It's so rare in this day and age." Closing with the strongest number, the bluesy southern rocker "Blues Worse Than I Ever Had," the enjoyable if predictable Young Blood draws heavily from another age, raising the question of when King's own style will begin to emerge.  © Robert Baird/Qobuz

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Sometimes you need to look back in order to move forward. While Black Stone Cherry have had increasing chart success -- 2014's Magic Mountain hit number five on the U.K. charts and number 22 in the U.S. -- the band felt a lack of creative control over their recordings. To that end, they left Roadrunner Records and signed to Mascot, run by Ron Burman (the man who signed them to Roadrunner in the first place). Earlier Black Stone Cherry albums were always imbalanced: songwriting was sometimes sacrificed in an attempt to replicate the band's live sound; at other times, it was the reverse. Kentucky is a self-produced, back-to-the-roots affair (with participation from a host of local players and singers). Opener "The Way of the Future" walks the line between gnarly, riff-tastic hard rock and heavy metal. Frontman/guitarist Chris Robertson's rant against greedy politicians is fueled by his and Ben Wells' twin-guitar attack, grooving tom-tom, kickdrum fills from John Fred Young, and a fuzzed-out, Geezer Butler-esque bassline from Jon Lawhon. The two proceeding tracks, "In Our Dreams" and "Shakin' My Cage," are equally bone-crunching. The gears shift on "Soul Machine." It blends greasy Southern-fried funk and adrenalin-fueled blues-rock, with Robertson backed by Stax-style vocalists Sandra and Tonya Dye. Black Stone Cherry can still write killer hooks, too: "Long Ride" is a power ballad in classic '70s rock fashion, complete with a rousing anthemic chorus and melodic guitar fills by Wells. The band updates Edwin Starr's psychedelic soul classic "War" with fat baritone saxophone, brass, dirty, in-the-red distorted guitars, and a large backing chorus. Robertson's vocal is filled with righteous indignation as the band swells toward volcanic eruption. The vintage Southern rock vibe on "Cheaper to Drink Alone" is classic BSC, but it's steeped in such a catchy melody, it will likely be covered by harder, edgier contemporary country acts. Wells' guitar break is one of his meatiest on record. "Hangman" is steeped in squalling, hard-riffing blues with a hooky chorus, while "Rescue Me," despite its brief gospelized intro, is the meanest, leanest thing on the set. The groove-centric intro of "Feelin' Fuzzy" gives way to a funky backbeat with guitars on stun. The latter album track "Darkest Secret" helps close the album circle with off-the-rails metallic hard rock (complete with a Black Sabbath-style breakdown), though the chorus is drenched in Southern groove. Kentucky marks the first time BSC have balanced all of their writing strengths with their concert presence. The album is a grower. After a listen or two, Black Stone Cherry's back-to-the-cradle approach proves that track for track, Kentucky is not only more consistent, but more satisfying than previous albums.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

On their fifth full-length, America, a once-rocking Thirty Seconds To Mars intend to save the heart and soul of their homeland with an effort as vast and polarizing as the country itself. The trio, marching in step with messianic frontman Jared Leto, seems to leave no mainstream genre untouched. Riddled with trap beats, millennial whoops, and plenty of electronic-synth sheen, America is Thirty Seconds To Mars executing their typically dramatic bombast at a fever pitch. For many fans, the lack of rock aggression will prove divisive, and yet for the longtime faithful who are as devoted to the Mars gospel as the band itself, America should be appreciated as a bold and risky move. The band is nothing if not convicted to its ideas. The twin pillars of America are "Walk On Water" and "Great Wide Open," two epic triumphs that best capture the album's entire ethos. Opener "Walk On Water" rallies listeners to fight for hope and change, a euphoric dose of optimism that could convert the hardest of hearts. "Great Wide Open" kicks off the second half of the album with U2-sized cinematic drama, playing like a new national anthem. They are undeniably grand and highlights in the Mars catalog. The rest of the album is hit-or-miss, depending on the listener's headspace and generosity. "Dangerous Night" shimmers with production by Zedd, who layers electronic snaps and cavernous bass atop the band's arena-sized, inspirational rock. The result sounds similar to what former tourmates Muse attempted with their late-era output. Elsewhere, "Rescue Me" sounds like the Chainsmokers were let loose in the studio with Maroon 5, while "Hail To The Victor" bridges the trap buzz of Taylor Swift's "...Ready For It?" with Fall Out Boy's Mania. In addition to Zedd, America recruited two other unconventional guests. "One Track Mind" features a barely-there A$AP Rocky, while standout "Love Is Madness" fully utilizes Halsey's vocals on a fiery duet. If these faces seem unexpected upon first glance, they make more sense in the context of the album, which absorbs each artist's chosen genre (electronic, hip-hop, alternative R&B) in an attempt to capture that all-inclusive mono-genre spirit of America's melting pot. It's a noble effort and two bands that heavily inform Thirty Seconds To Mars have tried this sort of genre-jumping in the past (U2's Pop and Muse's The Second Law). As such, America succeeds in representing its namesake: it's confused, inspirational, and, like Thirty Seconds To Mars circa 2018, at a serious crossroads where the future is uncertain but oddly hopeful.© Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo

Alan Silvestri's score for the final installment of the Back to the Future trilogy continues the mix of whimsical sweetness and dramatic action that marked his work for the first two films, but adds some elements from Western scores -- particularly on "We're Out of Gas" -- to reflect the movie's Old West setting. "It's Clara (The Train, Pt. 2)" spans all of these elements, while songs like "Hill Valley" manage to be playful yet menacing, both alternately and at the same time. One strange thing about this album is that it doesn't present some of the cues in the order in which they appeared in the movie: the music for "The Train" sequence, in which Marty McFly and Doc Brown rig the time-traveling DeLorean up to a train in order to return to the 20th century, is scattered throughout the album instead of appearing together. Overall, though, that's a minor quibble, as Silvestri's music is still quite engaging, particularly his instrumental take on ZZ Top's "Doubleback."© Heather Phares /TiVo

In many regards, Linda Ronstadt's self-titled third album isn't much different than her first two. Like Hand Sown…Home Grown and Silk Purse, Linda Ronstadt combines classic country songs -- Johnny Cash's "I Still Miss Someone," Patsy Cline's "I Fall to Pieces," Jerry Lee Lewis' "Crazy Arms," the folk standard "Ramblin' Round" -- with new songs from rising songwriters (Jackson Browne, Eric Kaz, Livingston Taylor, Neil Young, Eric Andersen) and an R&B cover (Fontella Bass' "Rescue Me"), but the difference is synthesis. Here, Ronstadt doesn't run from her Californian base, nor does she attempt to fit into the confines from Nashville; she finds the common threads between the songs and sounds, tying together her love of the old and new right along with her love of country, rock, and soul. Certainly, she's assisted by a versatile, sympathetic backing band assembled by producer John Boylan, a band that would later work on their own as the Eagles, but there's never a suggestion that the band is attempting to outshine the singer. All are united by the music, enjoying turning "I Still Miss Someone" and "Crazy Arms" into country ballads, breathing full life into Browne's "Rock Me on the Water," playing "I Fall to Pieces" with a muscularity that avoids overt homage, and reveling in the harmonies on Young's "Birds." This is music for the dawn of the '70s, music that shakes off some of the hippie dreams of the '60s in favor of lushly detailed authenticity that has an eye on the past while living for the present. Ronstadt might not have wound up with a smash hit here -- "Rock Me on the Water" did make some radio waves -- but this is the birth of the aesthetic that would serve her well throughout the '70s, and it remains potent.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

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Functioning as both the soundtrack to the group's disastrous feature-film documentary and as a tentative follow-up to their career-making blockbuster, Rattle and Hum is all over the place. The live cuts lack the revelatory power of Under a Blood Red Sky and are undercut by heavy-handed performances and Bono's embarrassing stage patter; prefacing a leaden cover of "Helter Skelter" with "This is a song Charles Manson stole from the Beatles, and now we're stealing it back" is bad enough, but it pales next to Bono's exhortation "OK, Edge, play the blues!" on the worthy, decidedly unbluesy "Silver and Gold." Both comments reveal more than they intend -- throughout the album, U2 sound paralyzed by their new status as "rock's most important band." They react by attempting to boost their classic rock credibility. They embrace American roots rock, something they ignored before. Occasionally, these experiments work: "Desire" has an intoxicating Bo Diddley beat, "Angel of Harlem" is a punchy, sunny Stax-soul tribute, "When Loves Come to Town" is an endearingly awkward blues duet with B.B. King, and the Dylan collaboration "Love Rescue Me" is an overlooked minor bluesy gem. However, these get swallowed up in the bluster of the live tracks, the misguided gospel interpretation of "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" and the shameful answer to John Lennon's searing confession "God," "God, Pt. 2." A couple of affecting laments -- the cascading "All I Want Is You" and "Heartland," which sounds like a Joshua Tree outtake -- do slip out underneath the posturing, but Rattle and Hum is by far the least-focused record U2 ever made, and it's little wonder that they retreated for three years after its release to rethink their whole approach.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

The title of West reflects the change in Lucinda Williams' life as she moved to Los Angeles. It also reflects what had been left behind. Williams is nothing if not a purely confessional songwriter. She continually walks in the shadowlands to bring out what is both most personal yet universal in her work, to communicate to listeners directly and without compromise. If Essence and World Without Tears took chances and stated different sides of the songwriter and her world, West jumps off the ledge into the sky of freedom, where anything can be said without worry of consequence and where anything can be said in any way she wishes. It's entirely appropriate that West was released on the day before Valentine's Day 2007, for it's a record about the heart, about its volumes of brokenness, about its acceptance of its state, and how, with the scars still visible to the bearer, it opens wider and becomes the font of love itself. But the journey is a dark one. First there's the music and the production. Williams chose Hal Willner to produce West. Williams, who'd been writing a lot, demoed some songs before she brought in Willner. He stripped down the demos but kept the scratch vocals. From there, the pair created the rest of the album together, never re-recording Williams' initial vocals. The vocals were accompanied by her guitar playing; Willner wanted her inherent phrasing and rhythmic flow. Willner also brought his own crew to play with Williams. This collaboration -- as unlikely as it might seem on the surface -- results in something utterly different and yet unmistakably Lucinda Williams. West is a warm, inviting, yet very dark record about grief, the loss of love, anger at a lover who cannot deliver, and embracing the possibility of change. In other words, it's not without its redemptive moments. Williams has put all of her qualities on display at once with an unbridled and unbowed sense of adventure here on her eighth album. She, her bandmates, and Willner have come up with exactly what pop music needs: a real work of art based in contemporary forms and feelings. West is an album that will no doubt attract more than a few new fans, and will give old ones, if they are open enough, a recording to relish.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

Taxi shows a mature Bryan Ferry, suave and controlled, very much in line with his general career from 1979 on. The choice of songs to cover doesn't make for any surprises -- the same selections of classic rock, pop, and soul numbers dominate, with an interesting ringer here and there like "Amazing Grace." As with his other recent solo records, a cast of thousands supports him, ranging from the Grid's Richard Norris on synth programming to Brit guitar legends Robin Trower and Michael Brook, plus vocalist Carleen Anderson. All four feature on the opening "I Put a Spell on You," which manages the neat trick of sounding almost exactly like a Ferry original -- what Screamin' Jay Hawkins would have made of it is anyone's guess. The rest of the album takes a similar tone, either crackling with low-key energy or aiming for a more gentle approach. The former style turns up in some welcome guises -- thus the take on Fontella Bass' "Rescue Me," here benefiting from a quick beat, mysterious samples and noises buried in the mix and near-subliminal guitar. An overall highlight is the take on the Velvet Underground's "All Tomorrow's Parties," which balances a certain winsomeness with a subtle air of threat, the music just beautiful enough on the one hand and just creepy enough on the other. Ferry's treated vocals, made to sound weirdly flat and compressed, heightens the curious mood.© Ned Raggett /TiVo

3 Stars - Good - "...On EVOLUTION, Oleta Adams niftily avoids the fabled sophomore slump by working a more narrowly focused musical terrain than on her more adventurous debut album. Where CIRCLE OF ONE mixed its genres, EVOLUTION is mostly big vibrant pop ballads...."© TiVo