What does a shrug sound like? On "Don't Know Why,” the opening track of her debut effort, Norah Jones suggests a few possibilities. The first time she sings the title phrase, she gives it a touch of indifference, the classic tossed-off movie-star shrug. Her tone shifts slightly when she hits the chorus, to convey twinges of sadness; here the casual phrasing could be an attempt to shake off a sharp memory. Later, she shrugs in a way that conveys resignation, possibly regret—she's replaying a scene, trying to understand what happened. Those shrugs and shadings, tools deployed by every jazz vocalist of the 1950s, are inescapable throughout Come Away With Me—in part because everything surrounding Jones' voice is so chill. There's room for her to emote, and room for gently cresting piano and organ chords. Unlike so many of her contemporaries, Jones knows instinctively how much (or how little!) singer the song needs. The secret of this record, which came out when Jones was 22, is its almost defiant approachability: It is calm, and open, and gentle, music for a lazy afternoon in a porch swing. As transfixing covers of Hank Williams' "Cold Cold Heart” and Hoagy Carmichael's "The Nearness of You” make clear, Jones thinks about contours and shadows when she sings; her storytelling depends as much on the scene and the atmosphere as the narrative. And Jones applies the same understatement to the original songs here, which weave together elements of country, pop, jazz and torch balladry in inventive ways. It's one thing to render an old tune with modern cleverness, a skill Jones had honed as a solo pianist/singer before she was discovered. It's quite another to transform an original tune, like Jesse Harris' "Don't Know Why,” into something that sounds ageless and eternal, like a standard. Jones does that, over and over, using just shrugs and implications, rarely raising her voice much above a whisper. © Tom Moon/Qobuz

When is a Radiohead record not a Radiohead record? That's a fair question when listening to the debut from The Smile—which includes most prominent Radiohead members Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood and is produced by Nigel Godrich, who has worked on every Radiohead album since OK Computer. They're even recycling bits and bobs of old songs that never made the permanent Radiohead roster, like "Skrting on the Surface" which has roots going back to that band's In Rainbows era as well as Yorke's Atoms for Peace side project. Here, it's served as an ambient moment—as much a mood as a song. Greenwood's jazz guitar arpeggios dress things up while soft brass fades in and out and Yorke vocalizes like flotsam drifting through the ether. In other words, the song plays it cool: a good simmer that doesn't need to overdo it as a full-on boil. "Open the Floodgates" started as a Radiohead track back in 2006, when it was known as "Porous," and also got revived for live gigs with Atoms for Peace. It sure sounds like a frustrated commentary on concert fans: "Don't bore us/ Get to the chorus/ And open the floodgates/ We want the good bits/ Without your bullshit." (Pretty perfect for a band named after the Ted Hughes poem "The Smile," with its ominous warning about hungry fakers consuming purity.) Joining the band is jazz drummer Tom Skinner, also of Sons of Kemet, who lays down a busy, jittery rhythm that matches the oddly charming funk-to-post-punk-siren path of "The Opposite." The drums pace like a caged tiger on the big, festival-ready "You Will Never Work in Television Again," and it's a wow moment to hear Yorke singing like he's in the Wipers or Mission of Burma. He hits his famed upper register on "Pana-vision," a moody, fog-at-the-seaside piano track with strings conducted by Hugh Brunt, who has worked with both Radiohead and Greenwood on his film scores. "Thin Thing" thrives on math-rock tension. "Speech Bubbles" is a graceful, if morose crawl. "The Same" delivers great washes of uneasy noise. "Waving a White Flag" brainwashes with sterile, spacey synth followed by drawling strings, like a spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down. And "Free in the Knowledge," with its catchy vocal melody, could be Radiohead circa The Bends. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

After a long break from making Tame Impala music, during which time Kevin Parker produced other people's albums and played in side projects, 2015's Currents shows that much has changed with the project. Like before, Parker recorded the album on his own, only this time without Dave Fridmann's guiding hand and by mostly forsaking electric guitars in favor of a wealth of synthesizers, and with a much more relaxed, intimate approach. In addition to the soft rock of the '70s feel that permeates the sound, Parker adds elements of R&B and hip-hop to the mix, gets lyrically introspective in spots, and generally sounds like he's either on the verge of a long nap or just waking up from one. These aren't bad things when done right, and Parker's prowess as a producer and musician makes most of Currents palatable, if not extremely exciting. However, by focusing on all these new elements, and by sleepwalking through at least half of the songs, this new way of doing things does a lot to frustrate the expectations of anyone looking to this album as another mind-blowing expression of guitar-heavy psych-pop. It's hard to deny artists the chance for change or growth, and Parker seems dedicated to both here. Where you can fault them is if they don't change or grow in an interesting or unique way. Great chunks of Currents sound like plenty of other bands and artists in 2015, especially since practically everyone with access to recording equipment did their own takes on midtempo, chilled-out R&B. Does Parker do it as well as others like Unknown Mortal Orchestra or Caribou? Sure, he does. Is it enough to make this album worth checking out? Yes, but it's not enough to make it an improvement over his previous work. At Tame Impala's best, they blend huge guitar sounds, melodic basslines, and vintage synths into sweeping psychedelic rock with energy and drive that feel hugely cinematic while still feeling real. There are only a couple times here when Parker comes close to that sweet spot. For example, the both "Let It Happen" and "Reality in Motion" have a good blend of guitars and synths and a sense of purpose that's often missing elsewhere. There are far more times where he strays too far from his strengths and gets bogged down in meandering, overly smoothed-out sounds and meandering songs that deliver no real payoff or sound half-baked at best, like the embarrassingly weak "Cause I'm a Man." It's too bad that Parker stashed his guitars away instead of keeping them around to add to the mix. It's definitely not a case of addition by subtraction; it's quite the opposite. While Currents would have made a decent Kevin Parker solo album, people coming to the album and expecting to hear the Tame Impala they are used to will most likely end up quite disappointed.© Tim Sendra /TiVo

Though sounding completely different from one another, Gov't Mule's Peace...Like a River is a companion album to 2021's Heavy Load Blues. The dates were actually recorded simultaneously in different spaces inside the same studio. In different rooms, the band -- guitarist / vocalist Warren Haynes, drummer Matt Abts, bassist Jorgen Carlsson, and keyboardist Danny Louis -- and co-producer John Paterno set up two entirely different recording areas with amps, guitars, keys, and microphones, with the intention of giving each album its own sonic and musical identity. While Heavy Load Blues is an epic blues-rock date, Peace...Like a River is a labyrinthine trek through original songs that nod at the band's classic rock influences, creating an album that sounds like it was written and recorded during the 1970s. Opener "Same as It Ever Was" offers poetic lyrics about life's difficulties and revelations during and in the aftermath of the pandemic. The fingerpicked lead guitar, psychedelic production, lilting melody, and thunderous rhythm section crescendo buoy Haynes' emotionally resonant vocal. "Shake Our Way Out" is an exercise thundering, riff-centric, distorted blues-rock with Billy F. Gibbons (ZZ Top) joining on second guitar and vocals. While "Made My Peace" introduces itself as a midtempo, swaggering blues boogie, it quickly shifts gears to reflect Pink Floyd's deep influence on Gov't Mule. The vocal harmonies, melody, and dynamics recall both the Dark Side of the Moon and Wish You Were Here eras. "Dreaming Out Loud" is a jazzy rock cum R&B production. Ruthie Foster and Ivan Neville join the crew for the souled-out, steamy, bluesy, jazzy, NOLA-inspired funk on the poignant "Dreaming Out Loud" complete with soaring horns. Its lyrics were compiled from writings and speeches by Dr. Martin Luther King, Robert F. Kennedy, congressman/activist John Lewis and John F. Kennedy. Billy Bob Thornton contributes vocals to the swampy, spooky dubwise reggae of "The River Only Flows One Way." "After the Storm" cooks, but it's just a little too derivative of the L.A. Woman-era Doors due to Haynes trying too hard to imitate Jim Morrison in the first verse. That said, Louis' fine organ work owes more to the exploratory grooves of Larry Young and Garth Hudson than Ray Manzarek. "Just Across the River" is a slow-rolling, R&B-inflected blues featuring excellent playing and singing from New York-based guitarist and vocalist Celisse Henderson (Brandi Carlile, Joni Mitchell). "Long Time Coming" is a righteous, horn-drenched, soul-blues rave-up with a powerful vocal from Haynes. Peace...Like a River closes with the slide guitar Southern-fried rock of "Gone Too Long," which nods simultaneously at Neil Young with Crazy Horse and Lynyrd Skynyrd. This set reaffirms Gov't Mule's place as one of the most musical, stylistically ambitious bands out there.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

At the time of his very first recordings in 1941, Muddy Waters was not yet called Muddy Waters, and he played acoustic guitar. It wasn't his guitar since he didn't own one, but one that was lent to him by Alan Lomax, the man who discovered him deep in Mississippi when he was a farmer and an amateur musician. A few years later, Muddy Waters went up to Chicago and became the boss of electric blues, no doubt possessing many of his own guitars at that stage. However, in 1963 he went into the studio to record Folk Singer, an album with acoustic guitar. Why this unplugged turn? Was there a powercut in Chicago? Nope, it was what the market dictated. And at that time, the black public turned to soul, while the buoyant market for blues musicians became that of young white folk lovers, who confused authenticity and acoustics. Muddy Waters played the game, and played it well. This album is very well produced, with a sound makes it feel like Muddy Waters is playing in your living room… and that your living room sounds like a cathedral! Plus, he brought some buddies along, including Buddy Guy and Willie Dixon. With his majestic and solemn voice, Muddy Waters plays zen, essential, with few notes and long pauses between each one. The record demands that you don’t move, just listen. The album is hardly representative of Muddy Waters’ electric style, but it’s still one of his best. © Stéphane Deschamps/Qobuz

Finally! The Strokes never stood taller in their Conversed feet than they did at their début 20 years ago. That's quite a while to be in the wilderness. In 2001, Is This It revitalised a moribund rock. Influenced by Velvet Underground and Television but also, more surprisingly, by Pearl Jam and Nirvana according to Albert Hammond Jr., the five boys headed by Julian Casablancas, son of the boss of Elite and Miss Denmark 1965, had the perfect lo-fi, minimalist rock sound and the nonchalant punk attitude to go with it. Naturally, everything had been well thought-out. "Make it sound old but like it’s from 2001", Casablancas once said. Back to sloppy guitars, bass and drums for fucked-up-sounding tracks. Down with electronics. The first album's miracle formula eroded under the weight of subsequent releases, ego duels, experiments with kidnapped synths, and it ended with the pale Comedown Machine (2013), relegating the New Yorkers to has-been status. But The New Abnormal and its prophetic title are inspired. With its visual portrayal of Bird On Money, Basquiat's exquisite tribute to Charlie Parker, The Strokes walked that thin line between underground and popular, the salt of the 80s. In the Big Apple, with Blondie. But also in Elizabeth's Kingdom. Impossible not to think of Human League's Don’t You Want Me when hearing Brooklyn Bridge to Chorus. Or Billy Idol's sharp lyricism and Morrissey's vocals on Bad Decisions. From the opening and for 45 minutes thereafter, everything will be moving. From the relentless gimmickry of The Adults Are Talking with Casablancas' busted falsetto, to the groovy Eternal Summer that calls up shades of Roger Waters on Pigs, to a plaintive Selfless with a Chris Martin tinge: Casablanca's voice is amazing, and he finally has something to say. To put some freshness back into their maturity, and oil into the sputtering engine, the quintet called upon their "saviour" Rick Rubin, founder of Def Jam. And they struck gold. Calculated melodies that feel spontaneous, synthetic textures with old-fashioned charm, economical guitars and broken-down tempos, everything works beautifully. A work with a chipped but refined beauty, both solar and lunar, that will stand the test of time. © Charlotte Saintoin / Qobuz

Ezra Collective won well-deserved critical and commercial acclaim for 2019's You Can't Steal My Joy, a raucous debut long-player laced with elements of Afrobeat, jazz, hip-hop, and grime. However, before they could take it on tour globally, the COVID-19 pandemic set in. They introduce the same musical chemistry on Where I'm Meant to Be and still employ massive doses of jazz-funk layered inside swinging Afrobeat, salsa, grime, and soul.On "Life Goes On" (featuring Sampa the Great), party sounds meet James Mollison's honking tenor sax, Femi Koleoso's funky beats, and Sampa's rapid-fire delivery as T.J. Koleoso's insistent bassline and Ife Ogunjobi's trumpet solo above Joe Armon-Jones' organ and piano vamps before massive funk arrives with a trumpet solo to carry it out. "Victory Dance" commences as a triple-timed drum and percussion orgy atop shouted human voices. Afro-Cuban-styled horns and hand percussion bump and burn before the horns usher in an Afro-Cuban theme. Armon-Jones enters, then takes off with rapid montunos as the tune moves to intense salsa with soaring trumpet. They don't let up when Kojey Radical fronts the band on the single "No Confusion." Anchored by T.J.'s circular funk bassline, the horns pulse in driving Afrobeat style above Femi's breaking snares and hi-hat while Armon-Jones lays down sinister chord voicings, adding to the rhythm section's heft as Radical syncopates his incendiary delivery. "Welcome to My World" is all groove and grit as post-bop and Afrobeat horns meet dubwise rhythms in a strutting frenzy. "Ego Killah" is strictly dubwise steaminess with double-time bass and piano vamps; interlocking drums and percussion rub against and buoy one another. That track is followed by the R&B-centric "Smile" led by Armon-Jones' crystalline jazz piano harmonies supported by a rhythm section playing smooth, gentle, neo-'80s soul. "Live Strong" inserts grooving '70s-styled funk into shimmering contemporary jazz piano and swinging horns. Emeli Sande assists on the livelier sounding "Siesta," offering her heavenly yet assertive soprano atop Rhodes piano, congas, bongos, and bass. "Belonging" arrives as interstellar space jazz with glorious soloing from Mollison and martial snare from Koleoso. Armon-Jones opens a harmonic door in the bridge as the tune begins to assert itself, wedding spacious spiritual jazz to driving neo-electro and funk. His knotty acoustic piano solos with both Koleosos in trio. The set closes with a reading of Sun Ra's "Love in Outer Space" as a finger-popping, smooth, jazzy, neo-soul jam with Nao (Neo Jessica Jones) emoting in her wispy, reedy soprano as T.J. Koleoso guides her with a slippery, resonant bassline framed by ascendant horns and spectral keys. While Where I'm Meant to Be is a logical follow-up to Ezra Collective's debut, it's a soulful, musically advanced, rhythmically infectious one, too.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

A worthy heir to the spirit of Pink Floyd and a major figure of contemporary progressive rock, Steven Wilson managed to rekindle the flame of a genre worshipped by some and loathed by others… The former Porcupine Tree’s strength is his ability to inject a kind of pop spirit into his viscerally progressive compositions. And while his songs overflow with ripped solos, his bittersweet melodies remain very addictive. This is once again the case in To The Bone, the fifth studio album of the British musician. An extremely personal album, as Wilson himself explains he took inspiration from the bedside records of his childhood, in particular Peter Gabriel’s So, Kate Bush’s Hounds Of Love, Talk Talk’s The Colour Of Spring and Tears For Fears’ The Seeds Of Love. These references from the 1980s give a retro vibe to this impeccably produced album, which features XTC’s Andy Partridge, among others. You’ll come out of To The Bone with the feeling of having completed a beautiful trip back in time. A journey with plain influences wonderfully integrated by a musician equally talented for writing and producing. Enough to break the barriers of the rather reductive mold of progressive music. © CM/Qobuz

Still in the framework of Led Zeppelin’s fiftieth anniversary, Jimmy Page wanted to add a new iteration to the double live that wasn’t unanimously received upon its release. Granted he had already dusted it off in 2007, adding no less than six new tracks, including Black Dog, Heartbreaker and an epic version of Since I've Been Loving You that might actually top the original. For a total of 34 minutes and 40 seconds of additional happiness. But, despite these presents, the criticism is once again the same: even in Hi-Res Audio (at last!), The Song Remains the Same remains very frustrating compared to the studio-album versions. Released a little later in 1976, because the film had been delayed, it seemed offbeat compared to the band’s two latest productions, Physical Graffiti and Presence. This also meant giving a miss to a few marvels, like the immortal Kashmir and a few other gems. An injustice that hasn’t been repaired to this day, except for Led Zeppelin DVD and Celebration Day, as the first didn’t feature a purely audio version, and the second was only recorded in 2007, without the late John Bonham. Four decades later, it could all seem very much incidental. One just needs to listen to it in a row after the first five studio albums, going through How the West Was Won then The Complete BBC Sessions and finally Celebration Day, to realise it holds up just fine! And while the critics were harsh at the time, it is now obvious that the recording audio quality is exceptional. Those who enjoy long instrumental digressions, which do credit to the talent for improvisation of Jimmy Page, Robert Plant, John Paul Jones and John Bonham, will be on cloud nine, with a brand new sound. Pending The Song Remains The Same II The Return for 1974-1980? © Jean-Pierre Sabouret/Qobuz

Total Eclipse was Bobby Hutcherson's first recording session with tenor saxophonist Harold Land, who became one of his major collaborators (and a quintet co-leader) during the late '60s. Land's rounded, echoing tone is a nice contrast for the coolly cerebral post-bop that fills Total Eclipse. Hutcherson contributes four of the five compositions (the other, "Matrix," is by pianist Chick Corea), and he's in a mood to intellectually challenge himself and the rest of the quintet, which also includes bassist Reggie Johnson and longtime drummer Joe Chambers. The results are full of the sort of skillful musicianship one would naturally expect of Hutcherson's '60s-era Blue Notes. Land's solo lines are fluid and lengthy, assimilating some of Coltrane's innovations while remaining accessibly soulful. Though they're all pretty strong, "Pompeian" is the most ambitious piece; it opens with a happy-go-lucky, waltz-time flute melody, and after a bit of foreboding, Hutcherson expands upon it with a tinkling bell solo. Toward the end of the piece, the whole group builds to a chaotic eruption, with Hutcherson switching to marimba (as he often did when he wanted a darker tone and high-tempo articulation); the pretty flute theme is then repeated as the dust settles and the piece ends. Overall, though, the album foreshadows Hutcherson's move away from his explicit avant-garde leanings and into a still-advanced but more structured modernist framework. For some reason, Total Eclipse was the only post-bop-styled album Hutcherson and Land recorded together that was released at the time; though they're all high-quality, this remains perhaps the best of the lot.© Steve Huey /TiVo

On 2012's The Absence, Melody Gardot made her first shift away from the jazz-tinged ballads that drew such heavy comparisons to Norah Jones and Madeleine Peyroux. Lushly orchestrated, it was chock-full of songs inspired by Brazilian, Latin, and French forms. On Currency of Man, Gardot takes on a rootsier sound, embracing West Coast soul, funk, gospel, and pop from the early '70s as the backdrop for these songs. It is not only different musically, but lyrically. This is a less "personal" record; its songs were deeply influenced by the people she encountered in L.A., many of them street denizens. She tells their stories and reflects on themes of social justice. It's wide angle. Produced by Larry Klein, the cast includes members of her band, crack session players -- guitarist Dean Parks, drummer Vinnie Colaiuta, Larry Goldings, the Waters Sisters, et al. -- and strings and horns. The title track is a funky blues with a rumbling bassline, dramatic strings (à la Motown) and fat horns. Gardot uses the lens of Sam Cooke to testify to the inevitability of change: "We all hopin’ for the day that the powers see abdication and run/Said it gonna come…." First single "Preacherman" is similar, employing a wrangling, smoldering blues that indicts racism in the 20st century by referring to the violent death of Emmett Till, a catalyst in the then-emergent Civil Rights movement. A driving B-3, saxophone, and menacing lead guitar ratchet up the tension to explosive. A gospel chorus mournfully affirms Gardot's vocal as a harmonica moans in the background. "Morning Sun" and closer "Once I Was Loved" are tender ballads that emerge from simple, hymn-like themes and quietly resonant with conviction. "Same to You" evokes the spirit of Dusty Springfield atop the punchy horns from her Memphis period, albeit with a West Coast sheen. The nylon-string guitar in "Don't Misunderstand" recalls Bill Withers' earthy funkiness. The song's a groover, but it's also a warning to a possessive lover. "Don't Talk" uses spooky polyrhythms (à la Tom Waits) as brooding, spacy slide guitars, B-3, and backing singers slice through forbidding blues under Gardot's voice. "If Ever I Recall Your Face" is jazzier, a 21st century take on the film noir ballad with glorious strings arranged by Clément Ducol that rise above a ghostly piano. "Bad News" simultaneously looks back at L.A.'s Central Avenue and burlesque scenes. It's a jazz-blues with a sauntering horn section, snaky electric guitar, and squawking saxophone solo. Vocally, Gardot is stronger than ever here, her instrument is bigger and fuller yet it retains that spectral smokiness that is her trademark. Currency of Man is a further step away from the lithe, winsome pop-jazz that garnered her notice initially, and it's a welcome one.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

Matthew Houck—aka Phosphorescent—can really turn a phrase, as on the title song of Revelator, which opens with a great bit: "I got tired of sadness/ I got tired of all the madness/ I got tired of being a badass all the time." The vibe is dreamy, sweeping Americana, laced with a bit of Dave Rawlings-style sweetness and grit. Houck has said "It might be the best song I've ever written," and there's no reason to doubt him. It's up there with his terrific "Song for Zula," circa 2013. Evocative "Impossible House," meanwhile, is as vivid as a novel: "I seen your black limousine/ Rolling slowly through the alley/ All long and shiny and mean/ With a license plate that just says 'Nasty,'" Houck sings. It's a little John Prine and a little The National and, it's becoming clearer and clearer, very much where Phosphorescent is right now. Houck moved from New York to Nashville nearly a decade ago, and, while there has long been a twinge of country and Americana in his work, Tennessee's lifeblood has really seeped into his eighth album. "All the Same" has a twang. "Fences," which finds Houck's warm tenor cracking to a nice falsetto, features Ricky Ray Jackson on weeping-willow steel that inventively travels up and down the scale. It's like comfort food in a song. Expansive "Wide as Heaven" moves languidly, without a care in the world. Synth blinks in and out like twinkling stars and Jack Lawrence's (The Raconteurs) bass gives the song's lungs—taking in deep, meditative breaths—even as Jim White, the great drummer from Dirty Three, uses fills to coax the pace along.It's not just Houck's writing that seems sparked on this record; his singing is better than ever, reaching deep on emotional "To Get It Right." Spurred on by rolling piano, the song opens up at the end, letting in all the sunlight and projecting its own energy right back. There are incredibly playful moments, too. "A Moon Behind the Clouds" is a light-hearted, heady surprise—sun-baked in island heat like a Florida Keys beach bum. And swaying "A Poem on the Men's Room Wall" includes the rowdy Hee-Haw lyrics: "Fear is the mind killer/ Beer is the fear killer/ This beer is killer/ Phyllis Diller is a cock thriller." But one of the most appealing things here is Houck's sincerity, which is more Cat Stevens tenderness than Father John Misty smarm. It's on full display for the loose-limbed folk-rock of "The World Is Ending," written by Houck's life and musical partner, keyboard player Jo Schornikow (who released a crackling record of her own, Altar, in 2022). It's the first Phosphorescent song from someone else, and a good argument for sharing. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

In her memoir, Brandi Carlile sings the praises of The Secret Sisters. She loves them so much that she and bandmates Phil and Tim Hanseroth produced the duo's last two albums, including 2020's Grammy-nominated Saturn Return. Carlile's not back for Mind, Man, Medicine—John Paul White (formerly of his own great duo, the Civil Wars) and Ben Tanner have stepped in to co-produce with Alabama-born siblings Laura Rogers and Lydia Slagle (née Rogers)—but the sisters' Americana magic is still secure, as are their crystalline harmonies. In fact, they've never sounded better than on knockout track "Never Walk Away," as their voices circle each other like twisting vines climbing toward the sun. The velvety drama conjures up the feel of Roy Orbison and starts out with a solemn promise—"I would never walk away from you/ Never even got it in my head to"—before it abruptly, chillingly shifts: "And I am not your friend anymore ... You gave a parting gift in your departure/ One more favor I cannot return." The harmonies also particularly shine on dreamy "Space," co-written with the wonderful Jessie Baylin. Hushed, and so tender it's almost unbearable, "If the World Was a House" was co-written with Ruston Kelly, and it has the slightly doomed feel of his best songs: "If the world was a house and it was on fire/ Would we just put it out or let it burn higher?" the sisters sing. You can hear Carlile's influence, as well as that of the Everly Brothers, on sweet "Paperweight," which features fiddle by Larry Campbell (Paul Simon, Levon Helm). There are traditional folk moments ("I've Got Your Back"), gentle country shuffle ("Bear With Me") and hymnal solemnity ("Planted"). "I Needed You" features the orchestra of legendary FAME Studios of Muscle Shoals, the sisters' hometown. And in a truly excellent turn, Rogers and Slagle tap into a deep Bonnie Raitt vein and find a whole new area where they excel. "All the Ways" is a slow-burn stunner that features Ray LaMontagne, while "Same Water" is lush R&B soul, burnished with fiddle. It's all about contemplation and second guessing and the weight of the world, without sounding victimized. "So how is everybody doing out there?/ Are you spinning round, lost and found/ Do you feel it too?/ Is there even anybody out there?/ We're all drowning in the same water as you." © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Following through with the avant-garde inclinations of Station to Station, yet explicitly breaking with David Bowie's past, Low is a dense, challenging album that confirmed his place at rock's cutting edge. Driven by dissonant synthesizers and electronics, Low is divided between brief, angular songs and atmospheric instrumentals. Throughout the record's first half, the guitars are jagged and the synthesizers drone with a menacing robotic pulse, while Bowie's vocals are unnaturally layered and overdubbed. During the instrumental half, the electronics turn cool, which is a relief after the intensity of the preceding avant pop. Half the credit for Low's success goes to Brian Eno, who explored similar ambient territory on his own releases. Eno functioned as a conduit for Bowie's ideas, and in turn Bowie made the experimentalism of not only Eno but of the German synth group Kraftwerk and the post-punk group Wire respectable, if not quite mainstream. Though a handful of the vocal pieces on Low are accessible -- "Sound and Vision" has a shimmering guitar hook, and "Be My Wife" subverts soul structure in a surprisingly catchy fashion -- the record is defiantly experimental and dense with detail, providing a new direction for the avant-garde in rock & roll.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Expanding on the concept of Songs for Young Lovers!, In the Wee Small Hours was a collection of ballads arranged by Nelson Riddle. The first 12" album recorded by Sinatra, Wee Small Hours was more focused and concentrated than his two earlier concept records. It's a blue, melancholy album, built around a spare rhythm section featuring a rhythm guitar, celesta, and Bill Miller's piano, with gently aching strings added every once and a while. Within that melancholy mood is one of Sinatra's most jazz-oriented performances -- he restructures the melody and Miller's playing is bold throughout the record. Where Songs for Young Lovers! emphasized the romantic aspects of the songs, Sinatra sounds like a lonely, broken man on In the Wee Small Hours. Beginning with the newly written title song, the singer goes through a series of standards that are lonely and desolate. In many ways, the album is a personal reflection of the heartbreak of his doomed love affair with actress Ava Gardner, and the standards that he sings form their own story when collected together. Sinatra's voice had deepened and worn to the point where his delivery seems ravished and heartfelt, as if he were living the songs.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Jose James is bringing back the great soul music of the sixties. With Lean On Me, his fifth album on the label Blue Note, the singer from Minneapolis pays tribute to Bill Withers. This album reiterates the influence that the big names of mythical jazz and soul have had on the artist, who sang the tracks of a certain Billie Holiday back in 2015… Despite the many musical paths he could’ve taken, James remains a faithful servant to the masters of soul, doing his duty of remembrance through his covers. Recorded in Capitol Records’ famous Studio B, he surrounded himself with big names: Pino Palladino on bass, Brad Allen Williams on the guitar, Kris Bowers on keyboard and Nate Smith on drums, a dream team with whom the soul man lays himself bare. With vintage groove and power, his warm voice evokes a bygone era and blends erotically with the piano chords of Lean On Me. Lovely Day’s funky soul doesn’t phase him either, but if there’s an area in which he truly excels, it’s on the sugary and slightly acoustic southern soul track: Hello Like Before. Watch out for hot flushes! Switching between tradition and modernity, each track is a surprise. Whether it’s brilliant musical improvisation you’re looking for (Just The Two of Us) or full funk (Better Off Dead) − here’s a guru who can hypnotise you in just a few seconds! © Anna Coluthe/Qobuz

The strength-to-strength peaks of Joni Mitchell's run of albums in the early 1970s is one of the most remarkable stretches of musical excellence in the pop era. The folk-rock perfection of 1970's Ladies of the Canyon led to the stark emotional intensity of 1971's Blue, which then opened up into the kaleidoscopic sonic experimentalism of 1972's For the Roses. While this era yielded only one U.S. Top 40 hit (1972's "You Turn Me On, I'm A Radio"), it nonetheless established Mitchell as a formidable artistic force who was not only far more musically interesting than many of her hippie-era peers, but also far more iconoclastic in her approach to her art and the music business.  So one would be forgiven for assuming that, after taking 1973 off, Mitchell would return with an album that either aimed straight for the charts or one that indulged her creative adventurousness. Court and Spark managed to do both. By far Mitchell's most commercially successful album—it's her only album to go double-platinum in the U.S. and also contained her only U.S. Top Ten hit, "Help Me"—the popularity of Court and Spark has managed to overshadow its weirdness. Following along from the jazzy inflections that made For the Roses so sonically interesting, Court fully blossomed into a funky, fusion-tinged affair, featuring members of the Crusaders and Tom Scott's L.A. Express providing highly complementary instrumentation to Mitchell's always-unusual guitar playing. In Mitchell's hands, "jazzy" becomes as much of a mindset as a sonic signature (a cover of Annie Ross's "Twisted" that closes the album is the closest that Court ever gets to anything resembling capital-J "jazz"), giving her freedom to dive deep into the unusual tunings and chord voicings she's always preferred, but also to open up the arrangements of the songs beyond simple verse-chorus-verse. Of course, her lyrics are as impressive as ever (the imagery in "Raised on Robbery" is as vivid as it is implicit), but even the largely wordless multi-tracked harmonies of "Trouble Child" and "People's Parties" can take the listener's breath away. Mitchell's use here of the "studio-as-an-instrument" is notable; while she is once again self-producing alongside the formidable engineering talents of Henry Lewy, her bold approach to Court's construction also helped make it the best-sounding album in her catalog to this point. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

Despite the seemingly instant attention surrounding them -- glowing write-ups in glossy magazines like Rolling Stone and Mojo, guest lists boasting names like Kate Hudson and Chris Robinson, and appearances on national TV -- the White Stripes have stayed true to the approach that brought them this success in the first place. White Blood Cells, Jack and Meg White's third effort for Sympathy for the Record Industry, wraps their powerful, deceptively simple style around meditations on fame, love, and betrayal. As produced by Doug Easley, it sounds exactly how an underground sensation's breakthrough album should: bigger and tighter than their earlier material, but not so polished that it will scare away longtime fans. Admittedly, White Blood Cells lacks some of the White Stripes' blues influence and urgency, but it perfects the pop skills the duo honed on De Stijl and expands on them. The country-tinged "Hotel Yorba" and immediate, crazed garage pop of "Fell in Love With a Girl" define the album's immediacy, along with the folky, McCartney-esque "We're Going to Be Friends," a charming, school-days love song that's among Jack White's finest work. However, White's growth as a songwriter shines through on virtually every track, from the cocky opener "Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground" to vicious indictments like "The Union Forever" and "I Think I Smell a Rat." "Same Boy You've Always Known" and "Offend in Every Way" are two more quintessential tracks, offering up more of the group's stomping riffs and rhythms and us-against-the-world attitude. Few garage rock groups would name one of their most driving numbers "I'm Finding It Harder to Be a Gentleman," and fewer still would pen lyrics like "I'm so tired of acting tough/I'm gonna do what I please/Let's get married," but it's precisely this mix of strength and sweetness, among other contrasts, that makes the White Stripes so intriguing. Likewise, White Blood Cells' ability to surprise old fans and win over new ones makes it the Stripes' finest work to date.© Heather Phares /TiVo