A duets collection of folk song covers could be pure novelty, but Rufus Wainwright infuses this recording with so much thought and care, it feels essential. Wainwright's song choices aren't precious. There are plenty of traditionals, including a jazzy version of the bluegrass standard "Cotton Eyed Joe" that finds him melting like butter next to Chaka Khan's heat. And Brandi Carlile brings incredible earthiness to the high harmonies of "Down in the Willow Garden," a gruesome Appalachian murder ballad ("I drew a saber through her/ It was an awful sight/ I threw her in the river/ Then ran off in fright") previously recorded by Flatt & Scruggs (as "Rose Connelly") and the Everly Brothers. But there's also a delightful take on "Twelve-Thirty (Young Girls Are Coming to the Canyon)," with Wainwright assembling his own version of the Mamas & the Papas—himself, Susanna Hoffs, Sheryl Crow, and Chris Stills (son of Stephen)—that captures all the charm and chamber-pop melancholy of the original (while making it clear that Hoffs and Crow should do more together). Stills and Andrew Bird contribute rich harmonies, as well as weepy violin from Bird, for Neil Young's "Harvest." Van Dyke Parks guests on accordion and spritely piano for his own "Black Gold," with Wainwright playfully leaping from note to note. And Wainwright even stages a theatrical reimagining of his own "Going to a Town." First released in 2007, the song is about giving up on the political division of America—written when gay marriage was being debated—and decamping to Berlin; it feels painfully relevant all over again in 2023, especially with trans artist Anohni silkily shadowing Wainwright. A warm and earthy John Legend joins in for a feather-light version of Peggy Seeger's "Heading for Home," while David Byrne shows up for Moondog's "High on a Rocky Ledge"; his and Wainwright's eccentricities are so different and yet so complementary. Make no mistake, Wainwright is the star of the show here, and does not shy away from the spotlight, with his inimitable vocal tone warming up each and every track. He even takes a couple of solo turns, including a cover of "Shenandoah," velvety with bell-piano, that showcase his remarkable ability to meld with the music: effortlessly alternating restraint, sustain, and full-throated power. And yes, he brings in his talented family, teaming with siblings Martha Wainwright and Lucy Wainwright Roche on a chilling version of the traditional lullaby "Hush Little Baby";  on "Wild Mountain Thyme" they’re joined by their aunt Anna McGarrigle and her daughter Lily Lanken, as well as Chaim Tannenbaum, a longtime musical collaborator of both of Wainwright's parents, Loudon Wainwright III and the late Kate McGarrigle. The harmonies are at once celestial, yet so human—vibrantly alive and warm with flesh and spirit. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

After the amazing masterpieces of Revolver and Sergeant Pepper's, The Beatles dove back into the art of pure writing, bringing about a certain level of sobriety and leaving aside their recent psychadelic delusions, awesome as they were. Released in November 1968, this double White Album is a return to more refined pop and rock; the essence of their art. The title of the disc, The Beatles, does not manage to hide the growing dissension between the four musicians at the time, and their diverging personalities saw this album herald the beginning of the end for the Fab Four, and the budding of their future solo careers... Despite all of this, The Beatles managed to release a new and totally unique album here, which can be enjoyed step by step as a true emotional rollercoaster: The fantasy of Dear Prudence, the dark madness of Revolution 9, the legendary guitar solo in While My Guitar Gently Weeps, the labyrinth of Happiness Is A Warm Gun and Sexy Sadie, the emotion of Julia (which Lennon dedicated to his mother, who died when he was 17), the purity of Blackbird and the ultra-violent tsunami that is Helter Skelter… the White Album is a brilliant production, a new masterpiece from a group growing apart ...For its 50-year anniversary, this legendary double album makes a return in Deluxe Edition form, a well-deserved title. As well as the stereo remixed version by legendary producer George Martin's son, the original mono version (praised by purists for this format) and the famous Esher Demos there are 27 demo tracks of some famous hits recorded in Harrison’s home and three studio-session CDs. It’s a marvellous collection (107 tracks in total!) which let’s us further explore this glorious piece of work that still fascinates us 50 years after its creation… © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

Van Morrison grew up with Skiffle - yes, at 77 years of age that’s still possible! Skiffle is the precursor to pop music which allowed young musicians in England to learn the ropes of traditional American music, folk, jazz and blues in the 50’s and early 60’s. Skiffle bands played makeshift acoustic instruments, guitars, banjos and washboards, with big smiles and hair slicked back behind the ears. Although it was very popular at the time, the genre was soon swept away by the pop explosion (before the Beatles, John Lennon had his skiffle band, the Quarrymen), but it is remembered as a safe haven for musical learning, and a bygone golden age. More than 20 years ago, Van Morrison honoured skiffle on a live album with two of the genre’s heroes: Lonnie Donegan and Chris Barber (The Skiffle Sessions, live in Belfast). He has now returned to the studio and to the band for Moving On Skiffle, which is like an elixir of youth. The album’s 23 tracks are all covers of songs that belong to American folk and blues heritage. Van Morrison doesn’t claim to revolutionise anything here. Using cheerful, acoustic instruments, he celebrates the eternal youth of songs that will still be sung around campfires 50 years from now. Just as Dylan revisited Sinatra’s repertoire on Shadows In The Night and Fallen Angels in the mid-2010’s, Van Morrison flips through the musical album of his youth, bringing it back with a catchy simplicity and joy. © Stéphane Deschamps/Qobuz

If Rum Sodomy & the Lash captured the Pogues on plastic in all their rough-and-tumble glory, If I Should Fall from Grace with God proved they could learn the rudiments of proper record making and still come up with an album that captured all the sharp edges of their musical personality. Producer Steve Lillywhite imposed a more disciplined approach in the studio than Elvis Costello had, but he had the good sense not to squeeze the life out of the band in the process; as a result, the Pogues sound tighter and more precise than ever, while still summoning up the glorious howling fury that made Rum Sodomy & the Lash so powerful. And Shane MacGowan continued to grow as a songwriter, as his lyrics and melodies captured with brilliant detail his obsession with the finer points of Anglo-Irish culture. "Fairytale of New York," a glorious sweet-and-sour duet with Kirsty MacColl, and "The Broad Majestic Shannon" were subtle in a way many of his previous work was not, "Birmingham Six" found him addressing political issues for the first time (and with all the expected venom), and "Fiesta" and "Turkish Song of the Damned" found him adding (respectively) faux-Spanish and Middle Eastern flavors into the Pogues' heady mix. And if you want to hear the Pogues blaze through some fast ones, "Bottle of Smoke" and the title song find them doing just what they've always done best. Brilliantly mixing passion, street smarts, and musical ambition, If I Should Fall from Grace with God is the best album the Pogues would ever make.© Mark Deming /TiVo

Every few years, it seems that the zeitgeist remembers the incredible and singular genius of Moondog. Although he died in 2005 and was composing and recording music into the 1990s, the "Viking of 6th Avenue" got his start on the streets of New York City in the mid-1950s, and was regarded as something of a beatnik oddity: a blind man with long hair and a beard (and, for a bit, a Viking helmet) who was a poet, composer, and philosopher willing to expound on any of those art forms from his post at the corner of 54th and Sixth. Early albums on jazz-affiliated labels cemented that reputation, but by the late 1960s, Moondog was being regarded less as a counterculture quirk and more as the thoughtful artist that he actually was. Two albums on Columbia Masterworks emphasized his modern compositional skills and his ability to fuse unique instrumentation and percussion with traditional orchestral arrangements. What Harry Partch was to rail-riding hobos, Moondog was to street musicians: a genius of modern music working literally outside of the great performance halls. Sporadic album releases (largely on European independent labels) followed throughout the '70s and '80s, and by the time his next (and final) major-label album was released (1994's stunning Sax Pax for a Sax), Moondog was in failing health; he died in 1999. Now, more than 20 years after his passing, the zeitgeist is again catching up with Moondog, with the pending release of Holly Elson's documentary film due imminently and, even more notably, this release, a long-overdue, multi-artist, high-profile tribute album. Appropriately bridging the worlds of contemporary classical music, jazz, and art-pop, Songs and Symphoniques was collaboratively spearheaded by Brooklyn jazz-folk ensemble Ghost Train Orchestra and Kronos Quartet. Those two groups' unique imprimatur makes this project so successful, as both are excellent at interpreting the spirit of works that have been obscured, misunderstood, or both; in the case of Kronos, it's often been daring new music compositions rendered more approachable in a string quartet setting, while Ghost Train has consistently breathed new vitality and muscularity into jazz pieces from the 78 rpm era. Here, their approaches converge on the unique percussive bounce that undergirded so many of Moondog's compositions, and all of the pieces are lively and swinging but still retain their original chromatic complexity. And, by bringing in a diverse group of vocal collaborators—ranging from Jarvis Cocker and Joan As Police Woman to Karen Mantler, Petra Haden, and a stunning duet with Aoife O'Donovan and Sam Amidon—his poetry is turned into some surprisingly effective lyrics. While the textures may shift from folk to jazz to chamber music, nothing seems to venture too far from the already disparate sonic approach of Moondog, making this tribute as endearing as it is daring. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

With Part of the Light (2018), Ray LaMontagne returned to his roots with his mix of Nick Drake-style folk, southern soul, fat-free blues and classic rock. The psychedelic influences of old Pink Floyd albums that were noticeable on Ouroboros (2016) felt like a distant memory. With Monovision, the American songwriter cements his sound, confirming that it’s closer to Cat Stevens than David Gilmour. With this eighth album, he’s a little closer to sitting on the throne of Americana. When he presses down on the accelerator (Strong Enough), the virile toughness of Creedence Clearwater Revival doesn’t feel too far away. And when he starts daydreaming (We’ll Make It Through) it’s hard – especially with the harmonica – not to think of Neil Young. But at the age of 46 and having spent more than two decades on the scene, Ray LaMontagne has a sound of his own. Yes, he has rather typical voice though it never stops him venturing past the heavy shadows of his spiritual forefathers. So much so that this extremely purified 2020 vintage is perhaps the album that sounds most like Ray LaMontagne. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

Though they never really went away, emerging for the occasional live performance or an ill-fated start at an album, Kings of Convenience -- the Norwegian duo of singer/guitarists Erik Glambek Bøe and Erlend Øye -- nonetheless ended up with a 12-year gap between their Billboard 200-charting fourth album (depending on how you count), Declaration of Dependence, and 2021's Peace or Love. The project's gentle, acoustic-centered approach and sophisticated harmonic textures don't skip a beat, however, on a set that connects the dots between wistful indie pop, airy, syncopated bossa nova, and singer/songwriter folk traditions. Some of the album's standouts include the warm, silky bossa outing "Angel," an eyebrow-raising, whispery ode to an object of affection ("Though she might be/Just slightly/Promiscuous"). The more somber opener "Rumours" showcases the duo's elegant vocal harmonies, while the melancholy, uncertain "Killers" relies on a solo vocal over their interlaced fingerstyle guitar lines. These are further highlighted by pair of duets with Feist; the spacious "Love Is a Lonely Thing" dispenses with vulnerable relationship advice as the singers trade lines, only coming together for the words "Once you've known that magic/Who can live without it?" Later, "Catholic Country," which was co-written with the Staves, offers further Gilberto-inspired stylings and a brisker tempo on a duet softly fleshed out by piano and percussion. While Kings of Convenience don't cover fresh territory with Peace or Love, they do what they do as impeccably as ever here and offer a handful of changeups and hummable tunes along the way. It should serve as a welcome return for any established fans. © Marcy Donelson /TiVo

After the amazing masterpieces of Revolver and Sergeant Pepper's, The Beatles dive back into the art of pure writing, bringing about a certain level of sobriety and leaving aside their recent psychadelic delusions, awesome as they were. Released in November 1968, this double White Album is a return to more refined pop and rock; the essence of their art. The title track of the disc, The Beatles, does not manage to hide the growing dissension between the four musicians at the time, and their diverging personalities saw this album herald the beginning of the end for the Fab Four, and the budding of their future solo careers... Despite all of this, The Beatles managed to release a new and totally unique album here, which can be enjoyed step by step as a true emotional rollercoaster: The fantasy of Dear Prudence, the dark madness of Revolution 9, the legendary guitar solo in While My Guitar Gently Weeps, the labyrinth of Happiness Is A Warm Gun and Sexy Sadie, the emotion of Julia (which Lennon dedicated to his mother, who died when he was 17), the purity of Blackbird and the ultra-violent tsunami that is Helter Skelter… the White Album is a brilliant production, a new masterpiece of a group growing apart ... ©Marc Zisman/Qobuz, Translation/BM

Jailbreak was such a peak that it was inevitable that its follow-up would fall short in some fashion and Johnny the Fox, delivered the same year as its predecessor, did indeed pale in comparison. What's interesting about Johnny the Fox is that it's interesting, hardly a rote repetition of Jailbreak but instead an odd, fitfully successful evolution forward. All the same strengths are still here -- the band still sounds as thunderous as a force of nature, Phil Lynott's writing is still graced with elegant turns of phrase, his singing is still soulful and seductive -- but the group ramped up the inherent drama in Lynott's songs by pushing them toward an odd, half-baked concept album. There may be a story within Johnny the Fox -- characters are introduced and brought back, at the very least -- but it's impossible to tell. If the album only had an undercooked narrative and immediate songs, such digressions would be excusable, but the music is also a bit elliptical in spots, sometimes sounding theatrical, sometimes relying on narration. None of this falls flat, but it's never quite as gripping as Jailbreak -- or the best moments here, for that matter, because when Johnny the Fox is good, it's great, as on the surging "Don't Believe a Word" or the elegiac "Borderline." These are the reasons why Johnny the Fox is worth the extra effort, because it does pay off even if it isn't quite as good as what came immediately before -- or immediately afterward, for that matter.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

The Smoker You Drink, the Player You Get, Joe Walsh's second solo studio album, continues the heavy and light rock mix of tracks found on his previous release, Barnstorm. Indeed, the opening two tracks bear this out. The first, perhaps Walsh's most recognized track, "Rocky Mountain Way," comes replete with overly distorted guitars and the obligatory solo. The next song, "Book Ends," is a tuneful ode to happy memories. Walsh's ability to swing wildly from one end of the rock scale to the other is unparalleled and makes for an album to suit many tastes. Joe Vitale (drums, flute, backing vocals, keyboards, and synthesizers – a talented man) and Kenny Passarelli (bass and backing vocals) are once again employed, and once again prove themselves adept at handling Walsh's various styles. The album sees an addition to the backing band in the form of Rocke Grace on keyboards and vocals. The legendary Bill Szymczyk works along with Walsh to handle the production, and takes care of the mixing. Szymczyk's work on this area is, as always, astounding. The Smoker You Drink, the Player You Get features some of the most remembered Joe Walsh tracks, but it's not just these that make the album a success. Each of the nine tracks is a song to be proud of. This is a superb album by anyone's standards. © Ben Davies /TiVo

Composer Bill Conti's iconic score for Sylvester Stallone's tale of over-the-hill Philadelphia boxer Rocky Balboa ranks as one of the most memorable and instantly recognizable pieces of film music ever applied to celluloid. The first Rocky is still the best, with classic cues like "Going the Distance," "Fanfare for Rocky," the "Final Bell" and "Gonna Fly Now" -- the latter was actually a hit single -- eschewing the myriad of questionable AOR songs that would end up cluttering future installments.© James Christopher Monger /TiVo

Heavy lies the crown on Bruce Springsteen's head. Alone among his generation -- or any subsequent generation, actually -- he has shouldered the burden of telling the stories of the downtrodden in the new millennium, a class whose numbers increase by the year, a fact that weighs on Springsteen throughout 2012's Wrecking Ball. Such heavy-hearted rumination is not unusual for the Boss. Ever since The Rising, his 2002 return to action, a record deliberately tailored to address the lingering anger and sorrow from 9/11, Springsteen has eschewed the frivolous in favor of the weighty, escalating his dry, dusty folk and operatic rock in tandem, all in hopes of pushing the plight of the forgotten into public consciousness. Each of his five albums since The Rising have been tailored for the specific political moment -- Devils & Dust ruminated over forgotten Americans in the wake of the Iraq war; We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions was an election year rallying call; Magic struggled to find meaning in these hard times; Working on a Dream saw hope in the dawning days of Obama -- and it’s no mistake that Wrecking Ball fuses elements of all four into an election year state of the union: Bruce is taking stock of where we are and how we’ve gotten here, urging us to push forward. If that sounds a bit haughty, it also plays that way. Springsteen has systematically removed any element of fun -- "Mary’s Place" is the only original in the past decade that could be called a party song -- along with all the romance or any element of confessional songwriting. He has adopted the mantle of the troubadour and oral historian, telling tales of the forgotten and punctuating them with rallying calls to action. Wrecking Ball contains more of the latter than any of its predecessors, summoning the masses to rise up against fatcat bankers set to singalongs lifted from Seeger. There's an unshakable collectivist hootenanny feel on Wrecking Ball, not to mention allusions to gospel including a borrowed refrain from "This Train," but Springsteen takes pains to have the music feel modern, inviting Tom Morello to do aural paintings with his guitar, threading some trip-hop rhythms into the mix, and finding space for a guest rap on "Rocky Ground." As admirable as the intent is, the splices between old-fashioned folk protests and dour modernity become too apparent, possibly because there's so little room to breathe on the album -- the last recorded appearance of Clarence Clemons helps lift "Land of Hope and Dreams" above the rest -- possibly because the message has been placed before the music. Springsteen is so focused on preaching against creeping inequality in the U.S. that he's wound up honing his words and not his music, letting the big-footed stomps and melancholy strumming play second fiddle to the stories. Consequently, Wrecking Ball feels cumbersome and top heavy, Springsteen sacrificing impassioned rage in favor of explaining his intentions too clearly.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Issued by the RCA label in 2007, this two-disc John Denver retrospective features a well-selected collection of the late folk-pop performer's finest songs. Like the excellent though not-as-comprehensive Definitive All-Time Greatest Hits, the set presents many of the amiable Colorado-based singer/songwriter's most recognizable tunes, including the shimmering "Leaving on a Jet Plane" and the vibrant "Rocky Mountain High." However, Essential digs further into Denver's catalog, offering up lesser-known numbers such as the delicate "I Guess He'd Rather Be in Colorado" and the surprisingly energetic "I'd Rather Be a Cowboy (Lady's Chains)." Ideal for those wanting more than the Definitive compilation, but less than the weighty four-disc Country Roads Collection, Essential easily stands as one of the best Denver anthologies available.© Eric Schneider /TiVo