Pineapple Thief's Bruce Soord never stops trying to make sense of the world around him. With a title that implies answers have been found, Pineapple Thief's latest album expands upon the band's particular brand of hooky, precisely played prog rock. A master builder of loud-soft dynamics, Soord's alchemy can gel into creations like the beautifully crafted, "The Frost" where brawny, stomping guitar breaks alternate with quiet stretches in which he pleads in a calm tone, "So hold me down/ Just hold me down/ Before I do my worst." After another wave of guitar roar, he concludes, "You're falling with me/ We're together in this hopeless hold/ Together only we can know." It's just one of many moments, all played with a perfectionist's ear for detail, and a commitment to clean, dramatic recording, that make this another success in the ongoing journey of a band that began in 1999. While comparisons to Radiohead and Porcupine Tree have always been appropriate, Soord's mission has been sharpened since 2016 by the addition of drummer Gavin Harrison who was a part of both Porcupine Tree and one of the 21st century reincarnations of Robert Fripp's King Crimson. Harrison is both dramatic and fierce in all the right ways. In "Rubicon" he plays a number of different tempos and rhythms all leading to the song's characteristic turn to driving melodic choruses. The mix here features Harrison's often intricate drumming in a prominent spot near the front at all times, often an equal with Soord's voice. Keyboardist Steve Kitch and bassist Jon Sykes, both long time contributors to Soord's vision, are nimble, assertive instrumental voices. What's most impressive are the endless atmospherics leavened with melodic bursts that the prolific Soord continues to churn out. Mostly free from specifics, his lyrics find him looking both forward and back—fearing for his children's future in "To Forget" while several lines later remaining deeply susceptible to the power of the past: "Remembering's not easy yeah I know/ It's buried deep inside you yeah I know/ And to forget is impossible." Satisfying the neverending demands of the prog rock audience for constant innovation, Pineapple Thief continues to perfect its confident mix of muscle and fragility. © Robert Baird/Qobuz

Long known as the steady diplomat who kept together the oft on-the-brink alliances of Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young—until he couldn't—Graham Nash sounds, at 81, feisty on his seventh solo album. There's an edgy urgency to the music and his famous high tenor on the vibrant "Right Now." "Now that I realize just how I am/ When all is said and done/ What a life I've lived ... Here I am/ Still living my life/ Right now/ Right now!" he declares. And his life is not one of easy chairs. "Golden Idol" takes on the politicians who turned the other cheek in the Capitol insurrection of January 6, 2021. "I know they're lying/ 'Cause their lips are moving," Nash sings. "They're trying to rewrite recent history/ When the MAGA tourists took the hill/ They will not stand up/ 'Cause they're bought and paid for." "Stars and Stripes" is jangling folk with excellent harmonies that finds Nash poking at the root of American divisiveness: "Sometimes I wonder why the world is like it is/ Frozen by the fear of change/ If we keep believing all the lies meant to divide us/ There's no one else that we can blame." And while he aims to keep moving forward, he's not exactly looking to reinvent himself. "A Better Life" is imbued with that easy Laurel Canyon familiarity on which he made his bones in America. It almost feels like a follow-up to "Teach Your Children" told from the other side, with Nash singing, "We're going to make it a better life/ Leave it for the kids ... one we can be proud of/ So at the end of the day, we can laugh and say that we left them a better life." Sweet and simple, "It Feels Like Home" is like an echo of "Our House." It's one of several songs written for his new wife of only a few years, along with "Love of Mine," a bit of a heartbreaker with high and lonesome harmonica accompanying an apology for hurt feelings. Sharply bowed strings lead the way for "I Watched It All Come Down," as the singer recalls, "I watched it all come down/ To a rock and roll parade … I watched it all come down/ To a paperweight at the business end of town/ Loaded up and loaded down/ It's a mess." Nash has said that the song is about the thrill of making music with David Crosby, Stephen Still, and Neil Young, but also sadness that they let emotions (and, let's be honest, substances) get in the way of them making more. And looking fondly back on another part of his history is "Buddy's Back," a sweet tribute both to Buddy Holly—complete with a "Peggy Sue"-inspired riff—and his old pal in the Hollies, Allan Clarke. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

A guitarist worshipped by Jimi Hendrix, an insanely good falsetto singer that even Prince looked up to, an author heavily involved in the American civil rights movement and a top-tier songwriter: Curtis Mayfield was a man of many talents. His groovy symphonies helped form solid links between funk, jazz, blues, soul and traditional gospel. After making his name with The Impressions in the 60s, he embarked on a solo career in 1970. This box set named Keep On Keeping On contains the singer’s first four studio albums, each remastered in Hi-Res 24-Bit quality: Curtis (1970), Roots (1971), Back to the World (1973) and Sweet Exorcist (1974). Here, the rhythm'n'blues enjoy a second life, supported by a wah-wah guitar, careful percussion and an always airy string section. Every topic concerned is a mini-tragedy, socially engaged, anchored in traditional gospel music. The masterful arranging of these albums (especially his masterpiece Curtis, and Roots) can be considered rivals to Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On. It is worth mentioning that this 1970-1974 box set does not include the soundtrack to Superfly, Gordon Parks Jr.’s 1972 film which contains the singles Pusherman and Freddie’s Dead. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

Best known as the leader of Dinosaur Jr., a trio addicted to monstrous levels of volume, J Mascis has another side to his musical character. Inside this apostle of ear-shredding noise lurks a sensitive indie rock balladeer, whose creaky, minor key voice—often compared to Neil Young—is the perfect accent to his opaque songs of loss and doubt.  Strip out the guitars of many Dino Jr. songs and it's clear that Mascis has always written multi-layered songs. Like What Do We Do Now's "It's True," where he's in a state—"I'm just lying here, lost in fear, it's rising/ It's not the worst, but how bad could it get?"—and reluctantly implores, "Let me find the way to go/ Let the cracks begin to show." The opener "Can't Believe We're Here" is nearly a pop single, or what his Byron Coley-penned bio calls a "full blown post core power ballad." Further along, "Right Behind You" is one of the most tuneful originals of his career. The worry ballad, "I Can't Find You," where Mascis broods, "Feeling so obscure/ Drifting through my head/ It's made me insecure/ I'm begging you instead," is the kind of sensitive indie rock wondering that his Dinosaur Jr. persona would have hidden under sonic intensity. Mascis's arranging has reached a new level of mastery; the mix of acoustic guitars, nearly-too-busy drumming, extended guitar solo and pleading voice on "Right Behind You" is nearly perfect. He ramps up his singing to a stronger and more confident height in the anthemic, pop-leaning title track. Mascis recorded this fifth solo album at his Western Massachusetts home studio; the detailed sound excels at sharply defined borders between instruments. He handles almost all the instruments except for piano, played by frequent collaborator Ken Mauri, and the pedal steel guitar, played by Matthew "Doc" Dunn. Willing to tone down the clamor as a solo act, J Mascis shows what was behind the volume all along. © Robert Baird/Qobuz

Recorded at the Gibson Amphitheatre in California on June 28, 2006, Real Live Roadrunning features live renditions of all of the cuts from Mark Knopfler and Emmylou Harris' collaboration of the same name, as well as solo cuts from each and Dire Straits classics like "So Far Away" and "Romeo & Juliet." The musicianship is as flawless as expected, but there's not a whole lot to separate the tunes here from their studio sisters. The accompanying DVD is a much better example of the pair's quiet dynamic, allowing both the duo and its talented band a broader spectrum on which to emit their wry tales of love, loss, and life.© James Christopher Monger /TiVo

Keeping the same line-up from Henry's Dream, Nick Cave and company turn in yet another winner with Let Love In. Compared to Henry's Dream, Let Love In is something of a more produced effort -- longtime Cave boardsman Tony Cohen oversees things, and from the first track, one can hear the subtle arrangements and carefully constructed performances. Love, unsurprisingly, takes center stage of the album. Besides concluding with a second part to "Do You Love Me?," two of its stronger cuts are the (almost) title track "I Let Love In," and "Loverman," an even creepier depiction of lust's throttling power so gripping that Metallica ended up covering it. On the full-on explosive front, "Jangling Jack" sounds like it wants to do nothing but destroy sound systems, strange noises and overmodulations ripping throughout the song. The Seeds can always turn in almost deceptively peaceful performances as well, of course -- standouts here are "Nobody's Baby Now," with a particularly lovely guitar/piano line, and the brooding drama of "Ain't Gonna Rain Anymore." The highlight of the album, though, has little to do with love and everything to do with the group's abilities at music noir. "Red Right Hand" depicts a nightmarish figure emerging on "the edge of town," maybe a criminal and maybe something more demonic. Cave's vicious lyric combines fear and black humor perfectly, while the Seeds' performance redefines "cinematic," a disturbing organ figure leading the subtle but crisp arrangement and Harvey's addition of a sharp bell ratcheting up the feeling of doom and judgment.© Ned Raggett /TiVo

The problem with compiling an essential best-of compilation covering the phenomenon that was (and is) Elvis Presley is the very man himself, who has passed from this mortal coil into the iconic pop culture stratosphere where even his own death is questioned and Elvis sightings are as frequent as fleas. Then there are the thousands of performers who daily dress up as Presley himself and sally forth into the world like perfectly gyrating replicas of either the early or later Elvis (body physics dictate that you can't be both). Elvis may have left the building, but not really. His image is everywhere, and his fans are legion and devout. So how does one pick his essential sides when "Do the Clam" is a classic in the Kingdom of Presley simply because Elvis did it? He recorded Tony Joe White's "Polk Salad Annie" in 1970. It was hardly the best version ever of "Polk Salad Annie" but it was Elvis' version of "Polk Salad Annie," which puts it in rarefied class of its own, and making it, like "Do the Clam," absolutely essential in some quarters. When you're larger than life, words like essential have to expand or be left wanting. The Essential Elvis Presley boils this imposing legacy down to two discs of 20 tracks each, and approaches the problem of what is truly essential by choosing to compile all of Elvis' significant charting hits, beginning with his 1954 cover of Arthur Crudup's "That's All Right" from Sam Phillips' Sun Records and continuing chronologically through Presley's long association with RCA Records through the year 1976. That means, while there's no version of "Do the Clam" ("Polk Salad Annie" is here, though), there are classic sides like 1956's "Heartbreak Hotel," "Don't Be Cruel," "Hound Dog," and "Love Me Tender," 1957's "Jailhouse Rock," 1961's "Little Sister," and 1969's "In the Ghetto," "Suspicious Minds," and "Kentucky Rain." There are 17 number one hits and a whole lot more. Elvis fanatics are going to complain about what isn't here, of course. Elvis is the King, after all, and therefore by definition everything he recorded ought to be essential. And everything he recorded is indeed essential on some level. But these are the sides that broke through to the deepest level of the world pop culture that Elvis helped create. These are the songs that broke him and then sustained him on radio and television and at the movie theaters. Die-hard Elvis fans will undoubtedly already have everything collected here. This is a set instead for folks who want to have at least one Elvis anthology in their collections, and want the hits they remember and don't much care if those hits are from the early Elvis or the later Elvis or the dear departed Elvis. Just the hits, bartender, shaken not stirred. That means no version of "Do the Clam," singular as it is.© Steve Leggett /TiVo

With their eighth studio album, 2023's ebullient So Much (For) Stardust, Fall Out Boy fully re-embrace the emo and punk-pop dynamism of their classic work. It's a soaring style they've been threatening to unleash ever since returning to regular activity following their hiatus after 2008's Folie a Deux. Although their subsequent follow-ups like Save Rock and Roll, American Beauty/American Psycho, and Mania all topped the Billboard 200, the albums often felt like the band were working hard to stay current, throwing their songs into a production blender of contemporary pop, hip-hop, and EDM sounds with varying degrees of success. Without ever sounding too much like a throwback, So Much (For) Stardust has a homecoming feeling, as if Fall Out Boy are getting back to their rock roots. It's a vibe that's underlined by the presence of producer Neal Avron, with whom they recorded the core of their most beloved albums, including 2005's From Under the Cork Tree. From the start, there's a balance of measured craftsmanship (they purportedly took their time in the studio) and big melodic hooks, all effusively delivered by singer Patrick Stump. It's an infectious combination the band perfect on the opening "Love from the Other Side," a song ostensibly about dealing with (and perhaps being the cause of) a bad breakup. That said, it could just as easily work as a metaphor for the group's attempts at transforming their sound coming off the emo highs of the early 2000s. Early in the song, Stump admits, "We were a hammer to the statue of David." There's a bittersweet nostalgia implied by the song, as if the band are looking back on their career and taking stock of where they (and by proxy their fans) find themselves in a post-emo, post-pandemic world. They return to that sentiment on "I Am My Own Muse," where Stump, bellowing against a symphonic string bombast and guitarist Joe Trohman's fiery riffs, sings, "Smash all the guitars 'til we see all the stars/Oh, we've got to throw this year away like a bad luck charm." This kind of bold rock affection drives much of the album, as on the '80s AOR of "Heartbreak Feels So Good," the Queen-meets-Michael Jackson post-punk stomp of "Hold Me Like a Grudge," and the dreamy new wave romanticism of "Fake Out." Adding to the emotional push of the record are several unabashed musical and pop-cultural references, including the Earth, Wind & Fire intimations of "What a Time to Be Alive," the Don Henley "Boys of Summer" flourishes at the center of "The Kintsugi Kid (Ten Years)," and even a snippet of Ethan Hawke's soliloquy about the meaning of life from Reality Bites in which his character offers up the adage "It's all just a random lottery of meaningless tragedy in a series of near escapes." Whether that's how Fall Out Boy feel about their career or not, So Much (For) Stardust is a gloriously welcome return to form.© Matt Collar /TiVo

Israeli-born trumpeter Itamar Borochov plays a cross-pollinated style of jazz that brings together his love of Sephardic Jewish music, Arabic maquam, and richly textured modal post-bop. It's a sound that informed 2014's Outset and 2016's Boomerang, and one he further develops on 2019's atmospherically engaging Blue Nights. As a trumpeter, Borochov has a soft, warm sound that brings to mind the sultry, late-night style of artists like Miles Davis and Chet Baker. In fact, the opening track "Right Now" is just the kind of slow-burn anthem Baker might have recorded in the 1980s. It's a style that grounds much of Blue Nights, as Borochov builds upon this lyricism with songs that grow increasingly kinetic as he weaves in yet more of his Middle-Eastern and African influences. Part of what makes Borochov's multi-dimensional sound so appealing is that he is as much in command of the jazz tradition as he is any of the other ethnic traditions he explores here. The cinematic title track starts with Borochov playing a lilting, sensual theme that builds to a heart-wrenching pitch of skyward trumpet moans. Equally compelling, "Motherlands" has a sparkling piano groove that Borochov accents with the addition of vocals by the Moroccan collective Innov Gnawa. He also evokes the dramatic, minor-key tension of Love Supreme-era John Coltrane on the driving "Daasa!," whose title is a reference to the song's wavelike 7/4 Yemenite dance rhythm. Similarly, "Broken Vessels" combines Coltrane's spiritual jazz with a fusion-rock dynamism, as Borochov's trumpet brushes warmly against sweeping drums and far-eyed piano chords. Elsewhere, as on the buoyant "Garden Dog Sleeps," his fluid lines bring to mind Wynton Marsalis' early-'80s albums. Ultimately, with Blue Nights, Borochov has crafted a perfect balance between dusky jazz you want to cocoon yourself in, and polyrhythmic percussion grooves that pull you toward the horizon.© Matt Collar /TiVo

When he moseyed onto the scene in 2019, conquering the charts and mainstream conversation with his country-rap novelty "Old Town Road," Lil Nas X could have been relegated to a pop culture footnote or trivia night as a one-hit wonder. Two years, a very public coming-out, and another number one hit later, he not only remained part of the conversation, but became a driver of the discussion, evolving his sound, pushing cultural boundaries, and expanding his fan base as an irrepressible queer icon. That undeniable charm, defiance, and open heart is on full display on his official debut, the triumphant Montero. A breath of fresh air, the album is one of those instant classics, packed with as many catchy jams as introspective musings, bound together by the character Montero's own relatable perspective as both a hero and a villain, navigating newfound fame while processing his identity as a young, gay Black man in a traditionally intolerant genre. His overflow of emotions is set to a delightful blend of genres, veering from booming rap anthems such as "Industry Baby" with Jack Harlow, "Scoop" with Doja Cat, and "Dolla Sign Slime" with Megan Thee Stallion to surprisingly emotive gems like the touching "One of Me" with guest pianist Elton John, and the biographical, guitar-strummed "Tales of Dominica." These moments of vulnerability are the most welcome shock from an artist who is an expert at pushing buttons, flexing an unexpected artistry and honesty rarely heard in mainstream pop or hip-hop. Indeed, for listeners in search of the club bangers, those occupy less space than the heartfelt fare, but it's all for the better. On the confessional "Sun Goes Down," Lil Nas X reaches out to his younger self, detailing his struggles with sexuality, self-confidence, and suicidal thoughts, a bittersweet motivator that will no doubt connect with fans with similar struggles. The tender "Void," the explosive alt-rock "Life After Salem," and the dour duet with Miley Cyrus, "Am I Dreaming," tug at the same heartstrings, but it's the upbeat Outkast-goes-pop-punk blast "That's What I Want" that delivers on both emotion and energy. As Lil Nas X urgently cries, "I want someone to love me/I need someone who needs me/That's what I f*cking want!" over a bouncy beat and handclaps, his frustration and yearning are palpable. This mix of toughness and sensitivity makes for a compelling listening experience, one that inspires chest-puffing braggadocio as well as quiet sobbing in a dark corner. Montero delivers in droves, a powerful realization of self that boldly places sexuality, honesty, and vulnerability at the fore.© Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo

At 73 years old, nothing seems to stop Ozzy Osbourne. Following his last studio album in 2019, Ordinary Man, he’s back again with Patient Number 9. It’s destined to be a huge hit, if only because of the mesmerising ensemble which surrounds the prince of darkness. Robert Trujillo (Metallica) is in charge of bass, while Chad Smith (Red Hot Chili Peppers) and the late Taylor Hawkins (Foo Fighters) alternate on drums. As for the guitars, they’re entrusted to Jeff Beck, Eric Clapton, Mike McCready (Pearl Jam), Tony Iommi and, of course, Zakk Wylde.So, let’s cut to the chase: what have this group of elite musicians produced? At its core, this is a great Ozzy album: well written, well interpreted and well-conceived. Naturally, the four guest stars stamp their unique mark throughout the whole release - just listen to Clapton’s weeping guitar on ’One of Those Days’ or Iommi’s Sabbath-style riff on ’No Escape from Now’. Each mark made feels perfectly logical thanks to the solid composition of all the tracks on the album. Despite the substantial length of this 13-tracker, there’s not one second of wasted time on Patient Number 9. Are you someone who likes heavy metal and screaming guitar solos? Then you’ll find what you’re looking for with Zakk Wylde and Tony Iommi. Do you like refined arrangements and the more intimate, nostalgic side of Ozzy Osbourne? Then ’A Thousand Shades’ (featuring Jeff Beck) will be the song for you, reminiscent of ‘So Tired’ from the album Bark at the Moon. Even the more radio-friendly side of the late 80s is represented here with the incredible ’Dead and Gone’… So, step right up–there’s something for everyone! Andrew Watt, who was responsible for the production of the previous album, has considerably scaled down his sonic eccentricities for this release. As you might imagine, Patient Number 9 sounds like a blockbuster. It’s got a huge sound and feels very contemporary, but there’s no doubt that this is 100% a metal album. © Charlélie Arnaud/Qobuz

This lush and earthy collaboration between Mark Knopfler and Emmylou Harris may sound like it rose from an amiable weeklong studio session, but the 12 tracks that make up All the Roadrunning were actually recorded over the span of seven years. The boot-stomping "Red Staggerwing" and the gentle "Donkey Town," both of which were bumped from Knopfler's Sailing to Philadelphia record, give the ex-Dire Straits leader a chance to flex his country muscle, while the wistful title track spotlights the lovely Harris, whose playful demeanor and guarded confidence helps keep Knopfler in check during his sometimes excessive soloing. The two couldn't be more at odds vocally, but Knopfler's laconic drawl is like an easy chair for Harris' fluid pipes, and standout tracks like the 9/11-inspired "This Is Goodbye," the wistful "Beachcombing," and the infectious single "This Is Us" come off as effortless statements of vitality from both camps.© James Christopher Monger /TiVo

On her full-length debut, Good Riddance, pop singer Gracie Abrams focuses in and doubles down on the wispier ruminations of prior EPs, this time in full-on collaboration with This Is What It Feels Like contributor Aaron Dessner, who co-wrote and produced the entire album. Sounding and feeling a lot like a breakup album, a few of Good Riddance's relationship songs were inspired by friendships and family in addition to a traditional breakup (from Grammy-winning producer Blake Slatkin). Musically, Abrams has cited tourmate Taylor Swift as a musical idol, and Swift is a well-known recipient of Dessner's behind-the-scenes assistance, beginning with folklore and evermore. More so than those records, Good Riddance is consistently soft-spoken and brooding as it moves through tracks that both dish out and take blame, such as plaintive opener "Best" ("I never was the best to you") and "I Should Hate You" ("Pulled the knife from my back, it was right where you left it"). Working with Dessner connected Abrams with some of the cream of the crop in indie sidemen, including his National bandmates Bryan Devendorf and Bryce Dessner; Rob Moose (strings, piano, orchestrations), Thomas Bartlett (various keyboard instruments), and Big Thief's James Krivchenia (drums, percussion) are among others who contributed to the album. Award-winning producer Matias Tellez (girl in red, AURORA) assisted Dessner on two tracks ("I Know It Won't Work" and the quietly dancy "Where Do We Go Now?"), while none other than Brian Eno co-produced spacy closer "Right Now." Good Riddance marked Abrams' first appearance on the Billboard 200, where it debuted at number 52.© Marcy Donelson /TiVo

Singers need contexts for their voices. For Kurt Elling, that search led to 2021's SuperBlue. On this second collaboration with the same players—guitarist/funkateer Charlie Hunter and a rhythm section of drummer Corey Fonville and keyboardist DJ Harrison—Elling has widened and deepened the sweet spot he found on SuperBlue. Recorded live in the studio by engineer Adrian Olson in Montrose Recording in Richmond, Virginia, The Iridescent Spree's loose synth funk imparts plenty of room for Elling to exercise his hipster urges proves to be a perfect vehicle for his talky chatter. Part of why this works so well is that Elling has learned the art of adding lyrics to music that was previously instrumental-only. That skill comes to an amazing pinnacle in the sad tale of prostitution he spins out in a version of Ornette Coleman's "Only the Lonely Woman" ("Once she was beloved/ No pauper/ She was somebody's daughter/ Ruin caught her unaware/ Now she cries heartache/ She's just a lonely woman/ Hollowed out despair." A related and very creative addition is his version of "Naughty Number Nine" from Schoolhouse Rock! (written by Bob Dorough, who was one of the few singers to ever appear on a Miles Davis album). Charlie Hunter's original "A Song for Karen Carpenter" appears as "Little Fairy Carpenter" with lyrics by Elling. Set to a slow beat, his deliberately sedated delivery, drawing out every word as his voice rises, gives the choruses a dreamy edge: "The hourglass sands / Have run through your hands/ Your deadline calls you to fold or expand." "Bounce," by innovative composer, drummer and Elling labelmate Nate Smith, here becomes the straight up math funk number "Bounce It," thanks to another set of the singer's lyrics that expertly conform to the angular rhythms of the tune: "Rim shot slap/ Spit and spank/ We dance 'n' dap/ And stank-a-lank/ And rank-a-tank." How Kurt got a groove on. © Robert Baird/Qobuz

Several momentous music careers were blooming in New York's Greenwich Village in 1962.  A young Minnesotan on the folk circuit changed his surname to Dylan and signed on Albert Grossman to manage him. In a tiny W. 8th Street basement speakeasy called the Bon Soir, a new singer of showtunes and standards was generating an equally impressive buzz moving critic Dorothy Kilgallen to burble, "She's never had a singing lesson in her life, doesn't know how to walk, dress or take a bow, but she projects well enough to close her act with a straight rendition of 'Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf' and bring down the house …" Barbra Streisand had recently signed to Columbia Records (which also had Bob Dylan on its roster), and returned to the club for three nights of recording in November, 1962, to capture what was to be her debut album. Shelved for unknown reasons, its 24 tracks, captured in very respectable sound given the state of live recording at that time, have now been issued with new mixes supervised by Streisand and Grammy Award-winning engineer Jochem van der Saag. Accompanied only by a small band led by British pianist Peter Daniels, this is a Streisand few have seen or can remember. What's most forgotten today is how adept a performer she could be in such an intimate environment: cracking jokes, acting the coquette, even letting out rapid fire giggles in "Value." She's audibly nervous yet also clearly at home as the tough Brooklyn girl with the soft center who could raise the roof if she so chose. The singing, some of which was part of the career-spanning 1991 collection Just For The Record, is a rare delicacy. Stripped of the studio gloss that would mark most of her career after these sessions, Streisand never recorded anything this real again. In a startlingly raw version of Leonard Bernstein's children's song, "I Hate Music," she practically shrieks out the title, getting a few laughs in the process. But she follows that burst of immaturity with a gentle, utterly masterful version of Harold Arlen's "Right As The Rain" and a gutsy, breathless, showstopping version of "Cry Me A River" that hint at the career to come. Forget the gauzy outfits, the lacquered nails, those grand modulations, and perfect enunciation, this is a very young Streisand unchained. © Robert Baird/Qobuz

After falling in love and coming out to her parents as queer at age 34, Angel Olsen lost her dad three days later and her mom two months after that. Weeks later, she went into the studio with producer Jonathan WIlson—a refuge where she could sort out the connected feelings of grief and new love. What emerged is a stunning record of old-school country and torch balladry. It is, at times, a tear-jerker, but in no way "sad." Olsen irresistibly turns up the twang on "Big Time," which was written with her partner Beau Thibodeaux about their first date: "Good morning kisses, giving you all mine/ Pull back the curtains, show me the sunshine," she sings with all the hope and gratitude in the world—but the laid-back song, which could've fit on a Bobbie Gentry record, is as realistic as it is romantic; a reminder that life is never just good or bad, black or white. "And I'm losing, I'm losing, I've left it behind/ Guess I had to be losing to get here on time," she follows up, still as grateful as ever. "All the Good Times" is time-capsule '70s folk-country; kissed with lap steel, it kicks in with light horn blasts and a beaut of a fever-pitch bridge: "The way that you said, as heavy as lead/ 'You've always known how to get straight to my head.'" It's nothing new for Olsen's voice to trigger chills—only this time, she doesn't need to reach hurricane strength to do it. The singer shows remarkable restraint on Big Time and it's incredibly moving. On "All the Flowers," a bit of '60s folk naivete, she fits into oddly-shaped melodic nooks and crannies, gliding high and dipping low as a husky timbre creates a shadow of itself. It's a trick she re-creates later on the gorgeous piano ballad "Chasing the Sun." A slight echo effect on "Right Now" creates a welcome Mazzy Star feel, then takes a fascinating dark turn at the bridge, like both Olsen and the guitar have been momentarily possessed: "Need you to look at me and listen/ I'm the past come back to haunt you." "Go Home" is closest to her previous work, at least in terms of sonic-boom vocals; it's also dramatic, keeping you on the edge of your seat as you wonder if the next line is the one where she takes flight. "Through the Fires" is otherworldly, Olsen's poetry floating like amber while too-beautiful-for-this-world strings sweetly lull. And fair warning: hearing her sing "I'm barely hanging on … Tell me a story that'll make me forget/ It's a hard time again" on the pure country "This Is How It Works" might leave you a puddle on the floor. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

During the late '50s, Ella Fitzgerald continued her Song Book records with Sings the George and Ira Gershwin Song Book, releasing a series of albums featuring 59 songs written by George and Ira Gershwin. Those songs, plus alternate takes, were combined on a four-disc box set, Sings the George and Ira Gershwin Song Book, in 1998. These performances are easily among Fitzgerald's very best, and for any serious fan, this is the ideal place to acquire the recordings, since the sound and presentation are equally classy and impressive.© Leo Stanley /TiVo