Beth Hart commands the stage with just one click of her fingers! The Californian tigress is still as feisty as ever without getting caught up in the clichés. In this live performance recorded on May 4th 2018 in London’s most prestigious setting, the Royal Albert Hall, she sets up her very own cabaret mixing blues, jazz and vintage soul. A woman who honours Nina Simone, Howlin’ Wolf, Dinah Washington, Buddy Guy and so many other key personalities of rhythm’n’blues, she shows us the full extent of her talent during this two-hour show. With a microphone to hand or sat behind her piano, what impresses us most is Beth Hart’s ability to mix all her musical influences and produce one very personal cocktail. Her secret? Her voice, of course. A kind of unstoppable magnet that pulls every word, every sentence, every chorus and which is made even more powerful by her contact with the audience. © Clotilde Maréchal/Qobuz

Beth Hart received a considerable boost from her collaboration with guitarist Joe Bonamassa, but her 2013 album, Bang Bang Boom Boom, finds the blues-rock belter returning to her comfort zone, working with producer Kevin Shirley and running through a selection of songs that are originals; songs that emphasize Hart's range and power. In some ways, this is the purest record Hart has yet recorded; there is a real sense of what she can sing and how she lays back, waiting for the moment when her wailing would create the strongest disruption. That means Bang Bang Boom Boom feels familiar without being complacent: there is no surprise in style but rather in attack, how Hart waits for the precise moment to unleash her fury. Sometimes, it seems that Hart would be well-served by stretching herself just a bit, but Bang Bang Boom Boom isn't an album that's meant to surprise. It's supposed to hit its mark with precision and minimal flair, and that's exactly what it does. [The American edition contains a bonus track: the stellar live version of "I'd Rather Go Blind," that Hart performed with Jeff Beck at the 2012 Kennedy Center Honors in tribute to Buddy Guy.]© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Fifty years ago, Chicago percussionist, composer and bandleader Kahil El'Zabar drew on his affiliation with the free jazz collective the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (AACM) to found the Ethnic Heritage Ensemble. Built, El'Zabar has explained, "to combine concepts of African American music with its earlier roots in traditional African music, to produce new motifs and sounds true to their origins yet firmly pointed in a new artistic direction of enlightenment and deep listening," the Ethnic Heritage Ensemble came together after El'Zabar graduated from nearby Lake Forest College and started playing in the Chicago free jazz scene.That world was rich with talent: Phil Cohran, Muhal Richard Abrams, Lester Bowie, Malachi Favors, Anthony Braxton and Henry Threadgill all earned early attention through the AACM. A half-century later, that music still resonates in contemporary Chicago, which is in the midst of another jazz renaissance. Work based on ideas cultivated by El'Zabar, Braxton, Threadgill and others has helped fuel the scene. El'Zabar's new Heritage Ensemble record, Open Me – A Higher Consciousness of Spirit and Sound, presents a dozen percussion-heavy songs old and new, connecting ancient and modern, blues and chants, protest and celebration. A testament to the percussionist's influence and drive, and the enduring nature of his creative quest, Open Me captures a 70-year-old creator whose muse has remained as determined as the bells he foot-taps in time on album opener "All Blues." A constant presence, those bells set an unhurried, conga-heavy groove to support the cool 1959 Miles Davis classic. This is patient jazz, the kind not so much driven by testosterone as its after effects.Savoring the Black spiritual "The Whole World," El'Zabar sings about a devoted God who "has the whole world in his hands" as Alex Harding's baritone sax, James Sanders' violin and Corey Wilkes' trumpet offer a tight hold behind him. Sanders' violin is a recent Ethnic Heritage Ensemble addition, and it complements and contrasts with Wilkes' trumpet across the album. Throughout, El'Zabar works various hand drums as if wired to a metronome, while his voice hums, chants and, on the cover of the classic protest song "Compared to What," sings of a time when the "Slaughterhouse is killing hogs/ Twisted children are killing frogs/ Poor dumb rednecks rolling logs/ Tired old lady kissing dogs." "Can You Find a Place," a funeral dirge that doubles as a blues, ponders the eternal. "Can you find a place where there's peace and happiness?," wonders El'Zabar as Wilkes pushes air through a muted trumpet, Sanders guides his bow across a pair of mournful strings and someone or something blows wisps of breath through a faint woodwind. When Wilkes and Sanders tangle horn and violin on "Barundi," El'Zabar eases back on his percussion to allow them space to work. Working drums and bells, he does this throughout the album—a master craftsman who's built a whole world with his hands. © Randall Roberts/Qobuz

Barclay James Harvest had streamlined their sound considerably after leaving the Harvest label, culminating (so many felt) in the mellifluous music of Gone to Earth. Their pretensions to progressive rock all but abandoned, BJH here invites comparison to contemporaries like Supertramp, REO Speedwagon, and Fleetwood Mac (some of whom were similarly tagged with the prog rock label early on). Even at their most ornate, songwriters John Lees and Les Holroyd were simple balladeers at heart, and the decision to unclutter their arrangements allows the material's intrinsic beauty to shine through with clarity. For this reason, Gone to Earth is regarded by many as the band's best album, and judged on a song-by-song basis, it's hard to argue against it. Lees' "Hymn" and "Poor Man's Moody Blues" swell from simple beginnings to majestic heights, while Holroyd provides a cache of catchy rock songs, incorporating Beach Boys' harmonies on "Spirit of the Water" and "Taking Me Higher," soaring with the Eagles on "Friend of Mine," and even dabbling in reggae on the popular "Hard Hearted Woman." Again, the album's lone orchestral moment comes from Woolly Wolstenholme, the transcendent "Sea of Tranquility." (The keyboardist, whose once-omnipresent Mellotron now played a diminished role in the band's sound, left after the subsequent tour, releasing the first of several solo albums in 1980.) Although the songs are almost uniformly light on their feet, the lyrics reveal some heavy thoughts: Lees' "Lepers Song" laments "The end of the line's where I'm at/'Cos there's nothing left to be," and "Spirit of the Water" deals with killing seals for coats. Fortunately, it's not the uneasy alliance you might expect. Rarely has the band sounded so comfortable in the studio, and the result is as lovely a record as they've made.© Dave Connolly /TiVo

The emphasis is on the blues (although not exclusively) on Blues in the Night. The original eight-song program was played by the trio of pianist Red Garland, bassist Sam Jones, and drummer Art Taylor, from an earlier date. Most unusual about the set is that Garland makes a rare (and effective) appearance on organ during "Halleloo-Y'All." Otherwise, this is a conventional but enjoyable set of bluesy bop, highlighted by "Revelation Blues," "Everytime I Feel the Spirit," and "Rocks in My Bed."© Scott Yanow /TiVo

The "Orchestrion" was a 19th century hybrid musical instrument that usually contained a wind orchestra, various percussion instruments, and sometimes a piano played by a pinned cylinder or a music roll. Pat Metheny designed and played his own version of one -- thanks to a commissioned group of inventors, advanced solenoid switch technology, and pneumatics -- on the 2010 album Orchestrion. The guitarist's version combined organic instruments -- various pianos, basses, rows of tuned bottles, bells, cymbals, and other percussion, with digital technology -- guitarbots (including one modeled on Paolo Angeli's guitar), switches, and more. The Orchestrion Project was recorded following Metheny's world tour with the instrument, wherein he discovered more about the instrument and its capabilities for group interplay in a solo setting. This was recorded in the same vacant church space as the original; it features the tour itinerary, tune for tune. Metheny played each selection several times and kept the best takes. This double disc contains four substantially revised versions of Orchestrion numbers and two new improvisations -- in particular the extended "Improvisation #2," with its layers of electric guitars, basslines, bells, and percussion including staggered marimbas that weave counter-melodic lines around the guitar vamps. The blown bottle sounds actually sound like flutes. In addition are several catalog items rearranged for the instrument: there are gorgeous readings of "Antonia" and "Tell Her You Saw Me" from Secret Story, a short version of Ornette Coleman's "Broadway Blues," a "drum'n'bass" take on We Live Here's "Stranger in Town," and a sparse "Unity Village" from Bright Size Life. This last cut is introduced by a long, knotty, boppish guitar solo that eventually unfolds into the more elegant and flowing narrative we know -- though without the rhythmic invention that Bob Moses and Jaco Pastorius brought to the original. In fact, Metheny deliberately keeps the tempo fixed in the accompanied section, as if to acknowledge that these players cannot be replaced; the tune becomes something other, something wholly different in this context. Other than this instance and some sparse minimal accompaniment in the bluesy "Improvisation #1," the Orchestrion as an instrument offers fluid, organic-sounding, full accompaniment and interaction. It doesn't replace a band, but it isn't meant to; instead it serves as the extension of Metheny's voice as composer, arranger, and improviser, allowing him to express on multiple levels simultaneously while playing solo. While this album's predecessor evidenced his accomplishment in the instrument's creation and operation, The Orchestrion Project reveals that Metheny's possibilities with it have only been tapped.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

It can't be considered a comeback because he's never really been away and 2004's My Secret Life -- recorded with the same basic band and producer -- already proved there was plenty of gas left in Eric Burdon's seemingly bottomless tank. But Soul of a Man finds the ex-Animals lead singer in fine, even feisty form. Credit should be shared by producer/drummer Tony Braunagel and a backing band of veterans, led by guitarist Johnny Lee Schell and organist Mike Finnigan, who find the perfect tone to support Burdon's growling vocals. Instead of originals, the singer sticks predominantly to covers, a smart move since his own songs have been at best a mixed bag. But aside from a handful of blues classics such as Howlin' Wolf's "44 Blues," "40 Days" (best known through Muddy Waters version), Mississippi Fred McDowell's "Red Cross Store" and Blind Willie Johnson's title track, these are predominantly obscure tunes that Burdon tears into with a gruff fury belying his age (he was 65 at the time of this recording). He's still proudly strutting about the size of his genitals on "Kingsize Jones" and can even meet classic Bad Company on its old turf in "Devil Run." Without a deft production touch these songs could be embarrassing, but Braunagel keeps the band simmering and Burdon's worst impulses in check. Female backing vocals, horns and percussion fall in line with this funky gospel-laced blues-rock, nailing the ideal tone between a surprising subtlety and Burdon's more typically crusty approach. In this context, "Never Give Up Blues" becomes a rallying cry for a guy who, despite more downs than ups in his post Animals career, has kept releasing new music, mostly to a select hardcore following. He will continue to sing "House of the Rising Sun" nightly, but with albums as strong as this, Burdon is far from washed up and has plenty to be proud of. Aging fans who might have abandoned him due to years of spotty releases will be shocked at how solid this is. Those who are just catching up will find Soul of a Man to be a dynamic new release from an old warhorse who should not be put out to pasture just yet.© Hal Horowitz /TiVo

One must give the Moody Blues credit for tenacity and a single-pointed focus. For 37 years they've put forth a startlingly consistent series of themes: optimism, a kind of blind-faith spirituality that the universe is in good hands and that people are by and large decent and kind, and love songs that can be a bit twee, but nonetheless connect when one is in the emotional space to hear them. Their music has always been intimate and pretentious in the best sense of the words. December is the Moodies' first Christmas album. The classic lineup has been whittled down to three: John Lodge, Justin Hayward, and Graeme Edge; Ray Thomas decided to call it quitsin 2002. The band is augmented by unofficial member and producer Danilo Madonia in the studio. This is the most curious of Christmas recordings. December is an album about the spirit of Christmas but, with its lack of carols (though it does feature Irving Berlin's "White Christmas" near the end), it sounds more like another chapter in the Moody Blues' legend, and that's exactly what it is. Like many Moody Blues records since the 1980s, the original songs are nostalgic, pointing listeners back to memories of an idyllic past when things were simpler, and toward the hope that social and spiritual renewal are just around the corner. The set features a number of Hayward and Lodge originals, obscure and traditional Anglo folk songs, a transposed piece by Bach, and a cover of John Lennon and Yoko Ono's "Happy Xmas (War Is Over)" -- alas, if only that were true. If you're a fan or a detractor, you already know what the album sounds like. Unpredictability left the band's vocabulary in the 1970s, but that doesn't mean that this collection is without merit. For starters, it is one of the most original Christmas albums you'll hear all year. There is no new age drivel here; its topics and themes are indeed Christian, but weigh on the side of those that are universally held: brotherhood, compassion, hope, goodwill, and generosity. In addition, it's beautifully orchestrated and produced. Its sound is pristine, and Hayward and Lodge with their trademark elegance sound as if they mean every word they write and sing. And it's easy to believe that. It most certainly is sentimental and lush, and has nothing whatsoever to do with rock & roll, but that hardly matters. As the latest Moody Blues album, it likely lives up to fans' expectations; as a holiday recording, it's unlike anything else out there.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

The comparison of Connor to Bonnie Raitt is unavoidable, considering the similarities of their vocal style and skill at slide guitar. But Connor offers a more savage guitar approach, akin to George Thorogood, and she comes on as a bit nastier. The album is filled with impressive guitar work, but the bad-girl pose wears thin after a while. © Tim Sheridan /TiVo

This double-disc overview collection of British super guitarist Peter Green is unique only for the limit of its focus and its seeming willy-nilly sequenced expression of it. If you're a fan, there isn't anything here you don't already have. By concentrating on a 20-year period -- and for most of that Green was lost in his own mind -- listeners get a solid selection of Green's creative genius with Fleetwood Mac, his spotty early solo records when his disintegration begins, and his tentative but still brilliant first return to music-making as well as a pair of sideman gigs with Bob Brunning's Sunflower Blues Band tossed in for good measure. There are only two live cuts in the batch, Boston Tea Party-era versions of "Black Magic Woman" and a cover of Duster Bennett's "Jumping at Shadows," and a wildly interspersed series of solo album cuts, Mac singles, and LP grooves like the juxtaposition of Green's "Lost My Love" with FM's "Fast Talking Woman Blues." In all, the only new thing here is the packaging and the inventive if problematic assemblage.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

Forever Young, Gifted & Black: Songs of Freedom and Spirit is a textbook case for preparing a compilation by a single artist, thematically. These 11 tracks were recorded between 1967 and 1969, at the split seam in cultural and political history, where the African-American civil rights movement ceded its popularity -- among young people -- to the more visceral and visual Black Power movement. As an artist, Nina Simone was a presence and participant in both. Her influence continues to be an anchor and an inspiration to songwriters and singers from Alicia Keys (who wrote a short liner essay here) to Tracy Chapman, Robinella, Me'Shell NdegéOcello, and Lauryn Hill, to name a few. The compilation contains a smattering of her many songs that deal with struggle, equality, and perseverance. It opens with "To Be Young, Gifted and Black," issued as a single in 1969 (the CD is bookended by this version and a live one at the end). The song itself is timeless; it rings with assertiveness and conviction nearly four decades later. But this is merely the beginning. There are three unedited performances here, all of which were originally cut and reshaped by producers for various recordings. The first of these, "Why (The King of Love Is Dead)," was written by her bassist, Gene Taylor, after hearing that Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated. The previously issued version was part of the "Martin Luther King Suite." Here, it contains full spoken and sung sections and is nearly 13 minutes long. To call it stunning and revelatory would be an understatement. Ditto the full version of "Mississippi Goddam," which was also part of the aforementioned suite. This is the first time either of these recordings have appeared on CD in full unedited versions. Likewise, "Revolution (Pts. 1-2)" is restored as one tune instead of two as it appeared on To Love Somebody in 1969. A couple of unreleased alternates are fine touches and offer different shadings, colors, and interpretive gestures to their album-issued counterparts: Simone's wonderful read of "Turn! Turn! Turn!," stripped to her voice, piano, and a pair of backing vocalists; and "Ain't Got No/I Got Life," cut for 'Nuff Said!, which contains a horn section. Other tracks here, such as Simone's reading of Bob Dylan's "The Times They Are A-Changin'" and "I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel to Be Free," are strident, forceful, soulful, and deeply moving. Fans will want this comp for the unreleased material and for its thematic slant. Those seeking out Simone for the first time may look to other sources, but this is a side of the artist that was present in everything she ever recorded, and deserves the focus it receives here. In these dark times in the early 21st century, these are songs of hope delivered by a true American original.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

You always look for new things from the Manhattan Transfer, and after a couple of releases that weren't too innovative, followed by a three-year gap, suddenly they come out with a really peculiar-sounding, refreshingly weird observance of the Louis Armstrong centennial. It sounds as if they had spent those three years racking their brains trying to come up with a totally different studio sound that's neither nostalgic nor modern. Which is exactly what they've done; the sound is compressed to evoke that of an ancient 78 rpm disc but not any 78 you'll ever encounter, whether by Louis or anyone. You hear all kinds of odd things bumping around in the back like loose parts in a machine, strange electronic treatments of the voices, an accordion wailing through many of the tracks, Delta blues guitar, Cajun, and rock & roll, and even more modern styles (with members of k.d. lang's band and Los Lobos's Steve Berlin joining in). The A&R guys probably would have killed to make this CD an exercise in reverent nostalgia -- "Do You Know What It Means to Miss Orleans" is the closest thing to it -- but a track like "A Kiss to Build a Dream On" with its touch of hip-hop in the rhythm, electronically limited guitar, and strings doesn't sound nostalgic in the least. "Gone Fishin'" is an affectionate, extended Alan Paul/Tim Hauser takeoff on the easygoing rapport between Armstrong and Bing Crosby on their duet version, wisely leaving the funny topical references to the original. "Nothing Could Be Hotter Than That" has some trademark Cheryl Bentyne high-wire vocalese. And to end the album, a normally warm and cozy tune like "When You Wish Upon a Star" opens and closes with a spacy electronic arrangement, with harmonies that thankfully undercut the sweetness, transforming the tune. Louis Armstrong wouldn't have recognized this "tribute," but his younger self probably would have hailed the Transfer's renewed moxie and experimental spirit.© Richard S. Ginell /TiVo

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