There are words that inevitably come to mind with a new Foo Fighters record: pummeling, shredded, heavy. But the band's 11th album, But Here We Are, also bears the weight of grief. The release date marks just over a year since the shocking death of the band's seminal drummer Taylor Hawkins while on tour. "Someone said I'll never see your face again/ Part of me just can't believe it's true/ Pictures of us sharing songs and cigarettes/ This is how I'll always picture you," leader Dave Grohl (who, no surprise, also handles drumming duty this time around) sings on "Under You," a glorious power-pop blast of anguish—the best kind of tribute to a musician who was unparalleled in his explosive joy. But there's more confusion than sentimentality on the album, which teams the band once again with producer Greg Kurstin and is dedicated to both Hawkins and Grohl's mother, who also died in 2022. "I've been hearing voices, none of them are you," Grohl sings on the slinky, mysterious "Hearing Voices," boasting a killer bass line from Nate Mendel. "Where are you now?/ Who'll show me how," he wonders on "Show Me How," moody in the vein of Mendel's old band Sunny Day Real Estate and featuring duet vocals by Grohl's teenage daughter Violet. "I'll take care of everything from now on," he resolves by the end. And then there is "The Teacher," an ambitious 10-minute toss-and-turn dream. "Who's at the door now?/ Wake up," Grohl sings, his drums pounding like someone at the door with bad news as he howls "wake up" over and over. There is excellently mercurial guitar work by Chris Shiflett and a haunted break—"You showed me how to grieve/ Will you show me how to say goodbye?"—before the whole thing breaks down into static. Kicking in with fury and working its way to a headbanging, heart-pumping build, opener "Rescued" is an instant classic along the lines of "Everlong" or "The Pretender." The band delves into power ballads with "The Glass" and  "Beyond Me." And "Nothing at All" is an intriguing surprise, the verses adorned with rocksteady two-tone guitar blasts and slippery-smooth bass before it all turns into raw screamo, its chorus a hair-pulling tantrum: "Everything or nothing at all!" It all ends with "Rest," a stripped-down heartbreaker about putting a loved one to rest: "Laying in your favorite clothes/ Chosen just for you," Grohl sings, sounding so vulnerable without the usual flash and squall. It's almost impossible to imagine how they'll get through playing these songs live, but with the release comes relief. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

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

The soul music of the 21st century has sometimes had the unfortunate tendency to prioritise analog production techniques in order to bring about a revival, losing sight of making beautiful music. Jalen Ngonda, on the other hand, isn’t faking it. His first album, released on Daptone Records and entitled Come Around and Love Me, presents itself as a magnificent time machine. A contemporary dive into authentic Motown sound, we hear the formulae that brought in the golden age of the genre in the 70s, the bright congas that gave rhythm to Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On,” the guitar riffs that Isaac Hayes refines terrifically, and that high voice singing about love and its torments, crooning about pleas of the heart, the album’s main theme. Come Around and Love Me is a superb record, where the musicians seem to fade into the background in order to completely lend themselves to the lead performer, who takes up the space and shines. © Brice Miclet/Qobuz

Genesis proved that they could rock on Foxtrot but on its follow-up Selling England by the Pound they didn't follow this route, they returned to the English eccentricity of their first records, which wasn't so much a retreat as a consolidation of powers. For even if this eight-track album has no one song that hits as hard as "Watcher of the Skies," Genesis hasn't sacrificed the newfound immediacy of Foxtrot: they've married it to their eccentricity, finding ways to infuse it into the delicate whimsy that's been their calling card since the beginning. This, combined with many overt literary allusions -- the Tolkeinisms of the title of "The Battle of Epping Forest" only being the most apparent -- gives this album a storybook quality. It plays as a collection of short stories, fables, and fairy tales, and it is also a rock record, which naturally makes it quite extraordinary as a collection, but also as a set of individual songs. Genesis has never been as direct as they've been on the fanciful yet hook-driven "I Know What I Like (In Your Wardrobe)" -- apart from the fluttering flutes in the fade-out, it could easily be mistaken for a glam single -- or as achingly fragile as on "More Fool Me," sung by Phil Collins. It's this delicate balance and how the album showcases the band's narrative force on a small scale as well as large that makes this their arguable high-water mark.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

There are so many garage rock/dance-rock tunes perfectly stylized and glamorous for the pop kids in the city and in the suburbs of new-millennium America. What's nice about these the bands producing these songs is how they strive so desperately to individualize themselves. On a commercial level, they do quite well in delivering catchy pop hooks. When it comes to having actual talent, a select few actually do possess attention-worthy integrity. But there are others who don't, and they disappear from the American consciousness after a brief flirtation with success. Such theories, however, are left up to the individual music fan, so let's put that aside for a moment to experience the decadent pop world of the Killers. The Las Vegas foursome introduce a perfectly tailored new wave-induced art rock sound on their debut, Hot Fuss. They wooed MTV audiences and modern rock followers with the success of "Somebody Told Me" during summer 2004. This chunky-riffed single loaded with androgynous mystery and a dalliance with new romantic energy captures the infectious delivery of the Killers as a band. Vocalist/keyboardist Brandon Flowers does his best Simon LeBon imitation; the sex appeal and the boyish charm are perfectly in place as the rest of the band accents his rich, red-hotness just so. "Jenny Was a Friend of Mine" and "Mr. Brightside" are equally as foxy as the album's first single, affirming that a formula is indeed in motion. It's hard to deny the sparkle of Depeche Mode beats and the sensual allure of Duran Duran. After 25 years, those sounds still hold up; by 2004, however, it's an incredible task to pull this kind of thing off without selling yourself to the tastes of the masses. Interpol and the Walkmen have pulled it off; Franz Ferdinand and Hot Hot Heat have potential. The difference with the Killers is that the dynamic doesn't firmly hold together. The gospel/rock jaunt of "All These Things That I've Done" doesn't quit fit around the Cure-inspired synth reveries of "Everything Will Be Alright" and "Believe Me Natalie." "Midnight Show," as much as it plucks from Duran Duran's "Planet Earth" and "Is There Something I Should Know?," does show promise for the Killers. Hot Fuss came at the right time because the pop kids needed something to savor the summer with, and "Somebody Told Me" served that purpose. Now pull out your Duran Duran records and dance like no one is watching. © MacKenzie Wilson /TiVo

Delivered months after her May 2023 death, Queen of Rock 'N' Roll is the first comprehensive solo retrospective assembled on Tina Turner in many years. Spanning either three CDs or five LPs, the box set follows a chronological order, opening with a trippy reading of Led Zeppelin's "Whole Lotta Love" -- popularized in Disney's Cruella -- then swiftly running through several late-'70s tracks that didn't often appear on collections before the comp reaches her great comeback of 1984. By this point, the collection is seven cuts deep and there's another 48 songs to go, which means Queen of Rock 'N' Roll relies heavily on her international hits of the 1990s and beyond, building upon her basic hits with live cuts and re-recordings. It perhaps winds up getting a little too glossy and tasteful by the close of the collection, yet this, of all Turner compilations, paints a portrait of the entire arc of Tina's solo career. Her rawest, nerviest, and funkiest material is missing, but this depicts her comeback and reign in vivid detail.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

It's subtle, but telling, that the cover of Audioslave's eponymous debut is designed by Storm Thorgerson, the artist behind Pink Floyd's greatest album sleeves. Thorgerson, along with Roger Dean, epitomized the look of the '70s, the era of supergroups, which is precisely what Audioslave is -- a meeting of Rage Against the Machine, minus Zack de la Rocha, with former Soundgarden vocalist Chris Cornell. Though both bands were leading lights of alt-metal in the '90s, the two came from totally separate vantage points: Rage Against the Machine was fearlessly modern, addressing contemporary politics over Tom Morello's hip-hop-influenced guitar, while Soundgarden dredged up '70s metal fueled with the spirit of punk. That these two vantage points don't quite fit shouldn't be a surprise -- there is little common ground between the two, apart that they're refugees from brainy post-metal bands. Of the two camps, Chris Cornell exerts the strongest influence, pushing the Rage Against the Machine boys toward catchier hooks and introspective material. Occasionally, the group winds up with songs that play to the strengths of both camps, like the storming lead single "Cochise." For Cornell fans, it's a relief to hear him unleash like this, given the reserve of his brooding solo debut, but this is hardly a one-man show. The Rage band, led by the intricate stylings of guitarist Tom Morello, gets their chance to shine, including on numbers that are subtler and shadier than the average Rage tune. Which brings up the primary fault on the album: Perhaps Morello, and perhaps the rest of RATM, are technically more gifted than, say, Soundgarden, but they never sound as majestic, as powerful, or as cinematic as what Cornell's songs need. His muted yet varied solo album proved that he needed muscle, but here it's all muscle, no texture or color. Consequently, many of the songs sound like they're just on the verge of achieving liftoff, never quite reaching their potential. There are moments, usually arriving in the first half, where Audioslave suddenly, inexplicably clicks, sounding like a band, not a marketer's grand scheme. Still, these moments are few and far between and it's hard to get through this album as a whole. By the end, it's clear that this pairing was a clever idea, but not an inspired one.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Bruno Mars’ debut album Doo-Wops & Hooligans made the talented singer/writer/producer into a star, he racked up hit singles, hosted Saturday Night Live, and became something of a romantic icon thanks to loverman anthems like “Just the Way You Are” and “Grenade.” On the way to writing and recording his second album, Unorthodox Jukebox, something seems to have gone sour for Mars. Where on his debut he sang about falling on a grenade for his girl, on this record he’s more likely to throw her on top of a grenade. Between the songs about how he can’t help but succumb to the dubious charms of young girls (“Young Girls”), the “B” who stole his money and left him broke (“Natalie”), and the type of charmer who can only be made happy by fat stacks of money (“Money Make Her Smile”), Mars’ opinion of the opposite sex seems to have taken a nosedive. Add in the song about taking cocaine and having a romantic evening so violent the cops are called (“Gorilla”) and it’s clear that the heart of the album is a cold, dark one. That the rest of the songs have some of the easy-going charm of Doo-Wops, like the lilting reggae come-on “Show Me” or the MJ-inspired disco jam "Treasure,” isn’t quite enough to overcome the queasy feeling that comes with even a cursory listen to the lyrics. It’s too bad, because at his best, like on the single “Locked Out of Heaven,” which sounds like a breezy mashup of “Beat It,” the Police, and Dire Straits, or on the Sam Cooke-inspired album-closing ballad "If I Knew," Mars’ light vocal delivery and way with a hook is quite appealing. The record sounds good, too, with able production help from heavy hitters like Mark Ronson, Diplo, Emile Haynie, and his own crew, the Smeezingtons. Too bad it’s a step back from Doo-Wops in so many ways, leaving people who saw promise in his debut shaking their heads in disappointment and hoping Mars can sort out his feelings about women and get back to being a sweet romancer, instead of an icky hater.© Tim Sendra /TiVo

Not too much has changed since we last left blink-182. You might hear the same snap, crackle, and pop that the trio has prided themselves on for almost ten years. There's even the continual cabbage-patch screech of Tom Delonge and support for rampant teen angst. But five albums later, these San Diego natives grab their rosy-cheek punkadelics and add a bit more of a flamboyant, passionate maturation on Take Off Your Pants and Jacket. When Enema of the State leaped onto the charts in 1999, the lyrical direction was 90 percent party-boy mentality, leaving little room for traces of a growth spurt. And while we're still feeling the continual back-drip of tracks from Enema, the fresh plethora of tunes from these rambunctious Toys-R-Us rockers have more purpose than ever. With a fight-for-your-right joviality that's often irresistible, songs like "Anthem Part 2" and "Stay Together for the Kids" house a indomitable school-kid voice where a surging vapor of knockout speed chords meet wrecking-ball percussion. The meanings are bucketed and spilled, with lines like "If we're f*cked up/You're to blame" ("Anthem Part 2"). And forget about escaping lyrics such as, "I'll never talk to you again/Unless your dad 'ill suck me off," which stems from the hilarious, almost brilliant 42-second clash called "Happy Holidays, You Bastard." "First Date" and "Roller Coaster" are only a couple of their tunes that act as therapy for post-pubescent dilemma, also present on previous efforts like Enema and Dude Ranch. Each song about the rotten girlfriend or unhip parent speaks loud and often to the 2000 MTV generation. Nevertheless, the dumped-in-the-amusement-park tone and lyrical progression are sharp, if not entertaining. The band's stint on the Vans Warped Tour, with veteran punksters such as Pennywise and Rancid, has become a supreme outlet for blink-182. Take Off Your Pants is one of their finest works to date, with almost every track sporting a commanding articulation and new-school punk sounds. They've definitely put a big-time notch in the win column.© Darren Ratner /TiVo

Three years and a pandemic between releases, Niall Horan turns the heartbreak around on his vibrant, matured The Show. His third full-length, the quick ten-track burst finds the former One Directioner in a period of positive growth, leaving his twenties behind and grounding himself in a more comfortable space where he can play with genres and have some fun. The mood is set on the irresistible opener "Heaven," a bright, life-affirming anthem that nods to the Beach Boys with the repeated "God only knows" and that group's trademark sunny vocal harmonies. Meanwhile, "Meltdown" and "Save My Life" amp up the energy with breezy choruses and '80s pop/rock vibrancy that's not too far off from his former bandmates Harry Styles' and Louis Tomlinson's contemporaneous output. Digging in deeper, he contemplates the passage of time and its effects on love on the tender "Never Grow Up" and dips into Tame Impala psych-groove on "If You Leave Me." Later, he slows things down with the acoustic guitar-and-harmonica "You Could Start a Cult," a sweet ode to a love that could sway the masses, and the piano-and-strings ballad "Science." The centerpiece title track is a sweeping showcase that builds atop swelling, orchestral drama, reaching a grand apex on the bridge, where Horan hits the most shiver-inducing vocal heights yet heard on one of his solo efforts. With each subsequent album, Horan just gets better and better. The Show is his most immediate and engaging set to date, endlessly listenable and full of heart and charm.© Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo