Songs in the Key of Life was Stevie Wonder's longest, most ambitious collection of songs, a two-LP (plus accompanying EP) set that -- just as the title promised -- touched on nearly every issue under the sun, and did it all with ambitious (even for him), wide-ranging arrangements and some of the best performances of Wonder's career. The opening "Love's in Need of Love Today" and "Have a Talk with God" are curiously subdued, but Stevie soon kicks into gear with "Village Ghetto Land," a fierce exposé of ghetto neglect set to a satirical Baroque synthesizer. Hot on its heels comes the torrid fusion jam "Contusion," a big, brassy hit tribute to the recently departed Duke Ellington in "Sir Duke," and (another hit, this one a Grammy winner as well) the bumping poem to his childhood, "I Wish." Though they didn't necessarily appear in order, Songs in the Key of Life contains nearly a full album on love and relationships, along with another full album on issues social and spiritual. Fans of the love album Talking Book can marvel that he sets the bar even higher here, with brilliant material like the tenderly cathartic and gloriously redemptive "Joy Inside My Tears," the two-part, smooth-and-rough "Ordinary Pain," the bitterly ironic "All Day Sucker," or another classic heartbreaker, "Summer Soft." Those inclined toward Stevie Wonder the social-issues artist had quite a few songs to focus on as well: "Black Man" was a Bicentennial school lesson on remembering the vastly different people who helped build America; "Pastime Paradise" examined the plight of those who live in the past and have little hope for the future; "Village Ghetto Land" brought listeners to a nightmare of urban wasteland; and "Saturn" found Stevie questioning his kinship with the rest of humanity and amusingly imagining paradise as a residency on a distant planet. If all this sounds overwhelming, it is; Stevie Wonder had talent to spare during the mid-'70s, and instead of letting the reserve trickle out during the rest of the decade, he let it all go with one massive burst. (His only subsequent record of the '70s was the similarly gargantuan but largely instrumental soundtrack Journey Through the Secret Life of Plants.)© John Bush /TiVo

The twelfth album from Red Hot Chili Peppers, Unlimited Love, is notable for several reasons: Next year, the band will have been around for 40 years; it's their first since 2009 with on-again, off-again guitarist John Frusciante; and they've returned to producer Rick Rubin, who helmed their 1991 commercial breakthrough Blood Sugar Sex Magik. The old gang sounds like they're having more fun than ever. "Aquatic Mouth Dance" is at once undeniably RHCP and also like nothing they've done before: With a breezy R&B chorus and a vibrant wash of brass, it's almost an Earth, Wind & Fire song; it's also Flea at his finest, delivering super-funky bass that shows why he's gone from being seen as a party doofus to earning real respect. A wild tribute to 1980s LA nightlife, the song name-drops John Doe, the Misfits, Billy Zoom, "the old Starwood" and the long-closed Cathay club where the band got its start, and even offers a self-referential wink to an old album: "Spilling beer is a good fountain/ Like the milk from a mother's tit." The band is also in a nostalgic mood on loose-limbed "Poster Child," a wah-inflected wordplay buffet: "Melle Mel and Richard Hell/ Were dancing at the Taco Bell/ When someone heard a rebel yell … Lizzy looking mighty thin/ The Thompsons had another twin … Steve Miller and Duran Duran/ A joker dancing in the sand." With its "ayo-ayo" chorus, "One Way Traffic" already feels like classic RHCP, as Anthony Kiedis laments his friends getting older and settling down: "Now they read them catalogs." (His escape? Driving down the PCH, music turned up, to a killer surf spot.) There are heavy moments—"These Are the Ways" is pure grunge; "Here Ever After" feels ominous; and "The Heavy Wing" lives up to its name with eye-watering guitar—and dreamy ones that showcase Frusciante's fluid touch (ballad "Not the One," the Steely Dan chill of "Let 'Em Cry," the slip-and-slide R&B of "She's a Lover"). There's even a song that does both, as "Whatchu Thinkin'" flies from pretty, slightly psyched-out melody to blissed-out jam. The band is also, after all these years, still able to evolve and surprise. "Bastards of Light" gets almost country before it crests in a grunge breakdown; "White Braids & Pillow Chair" is a slice of experimental weirdness, weaving in bits of gospel and rumbling Western scores. (The verdict is still out on Kiedis' Hiberno-meets-pirate affectation on the stomper "Black Summer.") This is much, much more than a legacy band turning out the same old stuff. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

If ever there were a manifesto for 1970s rock, one that prefigured both the decadence of the decade's burgeoning heavy metal and prog rock excesses and the rage of punk rock, "This Ain't the Summer of Love," the opening track from Agents of Fortune, Blue Öyster Cult's fourth album, was it. The irony was that while the cut itself came down firmly on the hard rock side of the fence, most of the rest of the album didn't. Agents of Fortune was co-produced by longtime Cult record boss Sandy Pearlman, Murray Krugman, and newcomer David Lucas, and in addition, the band's lyric writing was being done internally with help from poet-cum-rocker Patti Smith (who also sings on "The Revenge of Vera Gemini"). Pearlman, a major contributor to the band's songwriting output, received a solitary credit while critic Richard Meltzer, whose words were prevalent on the Cult's previous outings, was absent. The album yielded the band's biggest single with "(Don't Fear) The Reaper," a multi-textured, deeply melodic soft rock song with psychedelic overtones, written by guitarist Donald "Buck Dharma" Roeser. The rest of the album is ambitious in that it all but tosses aside the Cult's proto-metal stance and instead recontextualizes their entire stance. It's still dark, mysterious, and creepy, and perhaps even more so, it's still rooted in rock posturing and excess, but gone is the nihilistic biker boogie in favor of a more tempered -- indeed, nearly pop arena rock -- sound that gave Allen Lanier's keyboards parity with Dharma's guitar roar, as evidenced by "E.T.I.," "Debbie Denise," and "True Confessions." This is not to say that the Cult abandoned their adrenaline rock sound entirely. Cuts like "Tattoo Vampire" and "Sinful Love" have plenty of feral wail in them. Ultimately, Agents of Fortune is a solid record, albeit a startling one for fans of the band's earlier sound. It also sounds like one of restless inspiration, which is, in fact, what it turned out to be given the recordings that came after. It turned out to be the Cult's last consistent effort until they released Fire of Unknown Origin in 1981.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

Alphaville's 1984 debut, Forever Young, deserves to be viewed as a classic synth pop album. There's no doubting that Germans are behind the crystalline Teutonic textures and massive beats that permeate the album, but vocalist Marian Gold's impressive ability to handle a Bryan Ferry croon and many impassioned high passages meant the album would have worldwide appeal. Indeed both "Big in Japan" and the touching, sad change-of-pace "Forever Young" raced up the charts in multiple continents. Borrowing inspiration from Roxy Music's detached theatricality and Kraftwerk's beats and rhythms, Gold and company hit upon a magic formula that produced here an album's worth of impossibly catchy tunes that could almost serve as pure definitions for the synth pop genre. The hits race straight for one's cranium and embed themselves upon impact. "Big in Japan" feels like a more serious cousin to Murray Head's "One Night in Bangkok," as a slow-pounding beat spars with Gold's desperate voice. "Forever Young," a stark, epic song that would become essential for every post-1984 high school graduation, drips sadness and never fails to cause a listener to nostalgically reflect on life and loss. Outside of these hits, the remainder of the songs rarely falter, mixing emotion, theater, and of course electronics into a potent, addictive wave of synth euphoria. It's likely every fan could pick his own favorite of the other should-have-been-hits, but "Fallen Angel" deserves special mention. It begins with spooky, funny warbling and icy keyboards, and then explodes and transforms into a startling, romantic epiphany at the chorus. If its lyrics are a bit goofy or juvenile, it only adds to the heartfelt love the song expresses. Alphaville stick firmly to their synths and sequencers on Forever Young, but they keep things interesting by incorporating motifs from funk, Broadway, Brazilian jazz, and even hip-hop. Even when the band takes itself too seriously, the songs' catchy drive and consistently smart production cover any thematic holes. Forever Young is a technically perfect and emotionally compelling slice of 1980s electronic pop/rock music. It's also a wonderfully fun ride from start to finish.© Tim DiGravina /TiVo

For younger listeners who may have trouble remembering that Sammy Hagar and Guy Fieri are two different people, the clunky food-as-sex metaphors of "Good Enough" won't do much to help unwind their confusion. That song—blown open with Sammy Hagar's bellowing, try-hard "Hellooooo, baaay-byyy"—was a generation's introduction to Van Halen, Mark II, and it was an instant line in the sand. On paper, 5150 hit all the notes of a "classic" Van Halen album, with brain-melting guitar lines, bombastic drum lines, hard-rock harmonies, and a show-off lead singer belting out lyrics that were kinda dumb and kinda naughty, but meant to inspire a good time. The thing was, the blueprint was different than the final build, and not only did Hagar bring his own signature moves (half-dork, half-corporate rocker), but the Van Halen brothers had also significantly altered their instrumental approaches in the two years since 1984 to be busier and more sharply defined, aided along by a decidedly more crystalline production approach. They even changed the Van Halen logo! Thus, 5150 was—both metaphorically and probably literally—a fine-tuned Lamborghini compared to the Roth era's hot-rodded street racer, resulting in a high-gloss, high-performance effort that yielded multiple hits ("Dreams," "Why Can't This Be Love," "Best of Both Worlds") and was double-platinum two months after its release. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

After experimenting with synthesizers and a pop sound on his solo debut, Don Henley hits the mark on his sophomore release, Building the Perfect Beast. This album established Henley as an artist in his own right after many successful years with the Eagles, as it spawned numerous hits. While the songs seem crafted for pop radio, it's hard to fault him for choosing arrangements that would get his messages to the masses. Unlike most pop in the 1980s, however, Henley had deep intellectual themes layered beneath the synthesizer sounds and crisp production. In the opening song "Boys of Summer," he talks about trying to recapture the past while knowing that things will never be the same. Henley has a gift for writing about the heart and soul of America and for mixing his love for the country and small-town life ("Sunset Grill") with cynicism about government ("All She Wants to Do Is Dance") and modernization ("Month of Sundays"). Although the politics and the sound of the album make the decade of release easy to place, Henley's earnest delivery and universal messages give many of the tracks a timeless feel, which is no small feat. This is Henley's most consistent album, and it is the place to start for those wanting to sample his solo work.© Vik Iyengar /TiVo

This is the second in a series of Byrd recordings by the vocal ensemble Alamire and the instrumental group Fretwork under the direction of David Skinner. The two recordings, Byrd 1588 and Byrd 1589, cover two books of music published by Byrd in their entireties. Normally this kind of recording can be a bit tedious for the general listener, inasmuch as the music wasn't intended to be performed sequentially in this way; it was issued so that home musicians could pick and choose what they wanted. In this case, however, there is a lot to learn. Byrd's 1589 volume Songs of sundrie natures lives up to its name, with secular madrigals and sacred pieces mixed together. The sacred works may be more familiar in choral settings, but Skinner argues that they weren't intended for church performance but for small gatherings, much like the secular pieces. This puts a new perspective on the music, showing how madrigalistic ideas showed up in the sacred music. Sample the gathering momentum of Christ rising again, the six-part final work on the album. The sacred works are performed a cappella, while the secular ones are accompanied by various instruments; this seems logical enough, but not all performers do it this way. The performances themselves are very strong, with the solo voices conveying deep expression without breaking out of the necessary homogeneous texture. Many of the works here have not been performed often, Byrd being a composer who is too often represented by a few hits. This album is recommended for anyone interested in delving more deeply into Byrd; it landed on classical best-seller charts in the spring of 2023.© James Manheim /TiVo

Bad Girls marked the high-water mark in Donna Summer's career, spending six weeks at Number One, going double platinum, and spinning off four Top 40 singles, including the chart-topping title song and "Hot Stuff," which sold two million copies each, and the million-selling, Number Two hit "Dim All the Lights." Producers Giorgio Moroder and Pete Bellotte recognized that disco was going in different directions by the late '70s, and they gave the leadoff one-two punch of "Hot Stuff" and "Bad Girls" a rock edge derived from new wave. The two-LP set was divided into four musically consistent sides, with the rocksteady beat of the first side giving way to a more traditional disco sound on the second side, followed by a third side of ballads, and a fourth side with a more electronic, synthesizer-driven sound that recalled Summer's 1977 hit "I Feel Love." Though remembered for its hits, the album had depth and consistency, concluding with "Sunset People," one of Summer's best album-only tracks. The result was the artistic and commercial peak of her career and, arguably, of disco itself.© William Ruhlmann /TiVo

His look hasn’t changed. The same goes for his cocktail of vintage rock mixed with soul and funk. And yet, Lenny Kravitz makes a clean sweep with each new project. This eleventh − self-produced − album confirms his talents as a songwriter as well as sound producer. As usual, the New York artist calls upon his elders’ legacy (Marvin Gaye, Prince, Curtis Mayfield, John Lennon, Bill Withers) to make it his own and create pure and unadulterated Kravitz sounds. Whether they are intimate and very introspective, or openly engaged to underline the planet’s woes, the songs on this 2018 vintage effortlessly zigzag between funky uppercuts, stadium anthems and dance-floor soundtracks. And on the single Low, Lenny even grants himself a marquee (virtual) guest star with an iconic cry: Michael Jackson! Unsurprising, but effective as always! © Clotilde Maréchal/Qobuz

In his sixth studio album, following the very minimalist Best Day of My Life in 2022, British singer, songwriter and pianist Tom Odell continues the mantra of "less is more." By limiting the production, he retains a raw, emotional sound and firmly brings the storytelling in this wintry, introspective record into the limelight. Opening tracks "Answer Phone" and "Black Friday" reestablish his signature "lessons in love" lyrics, while musical motifs of acoustic guitar and emotive strings—coming together most harmoniously in "Spinning"—distinguish Black Friday from the majority of Odell's discography where the piano seems almost like an extension of himself. Short instrumental tracks ("The Orchestra Tunes Up," "The Orchestra Takes Flight," "The Orchestra Is Feeling Tense") create a subplot of cinematic soundscaping that narrates the listener through the overall emotional arc of the record. When the orchestra is tense, Odell presents the most melancholy song of the album, rich in minor piano chords ("Nothing Hurts Like Love"), which is soon resolved in the final chapter, with a sense of conclusion echoed by the lyrics, "Do you think we can be friends?/ Or maybe we have reached the end." In all, a well told story from the beginning to "The End." © Ciara Rivers/Qobuz

"Love to Love You Baby"'s 16 minutes and 48 seconds of arousal and refill -- ticklishly sensitive rhythm and fusion -- threw disco into a tizzy overnight, but the tonally starved blues-of-isolation on the B-side isn't to be missed, either: the broken promises Donna Summer bemoans in "Full of Emptiness"; "Need-a-Man Blues," with its unrequitedly sexy guitar rhythm as out of range of Summer's voice as she of satisfaction; the imaginary seaside hold-me in "Whispering Waves"; and "Pandora's Box," where Summer and guitar scream icily at one another as they turn their backs on each other's body music. Hunger without recourse; essential disco.© Michael Freedberg /TiVo