The American-Cuban-Mexican singer Camila Cabello once again has fun with her Latino origins on her second album, following on from Camila in 2018. Songs such as Liar and Señorita are characterised by a conglomerate of diverse musical influences from Latino culture. The former is a mix of Puerto Rican trap and flamenco (hand clapping included) which she sings in duet with the Canadian singer Shawn Mendes, while the latter is a ballad with a melody and guitar reminiscent of José Feliciano. Though since she does not want to be reduced to a cliché, other songs are much less stereotypical. Such is the case with the slow sixties sound of This Love and the sombre piano/voice combo which concludes the album (First Man). The album’s lyrics depict a Camila Cabello who, once again, plays around with Latino stereotypes. She uses religious imagery to describe relationships on Living Proof (Madonna doesn’t feel too far away) and gets her claws out to protect her feelings on Cry For Me. The theme of jealousy, as well as an exacerbated romanticism and an unrestrained sexuality, are at the heart of the former X Factor candidate’s work. Camila Cabello just goes to disprove the line “blondes have more fun”! © Nicolas Magenham/Qobuz

A year and a half after Kick i, Arca wraps up her series with four new albums (!) released almost simultaneously, with each one revealing an aspect of the Venezuelan producer’s work. She has become one of the most sought-after names in the music industry (with Kanye West, Björk and FKA twigs on her CV). The first, KICK ii, is perhaps the catchiest, presenting the “Arca version” of reggaeton, a very popular genre in Venezuela which has become a worldwide phenomenon in recent years. Arca revisits dembow rhythm in all senses on three quarters of the record, in epileptic style on Tiro with Boys Noize, in vapor style on Luna Llena with the German twins Cubeatz, and IDM/electronic style with Clark on Confianza. The record is finished with the pop/EDM single Born Yesterday with Zero Seven’s ex, the Australian Sia.On Kick iii, Arca takes us back to a dark and sleazy club with a throbbing sound system, beginning with Bruja, industrial hip-hop with an incredible beat that reminds us of the producer's unique talent in terms of sound design. Incendio, which was also released as a single, will be for peak time. As will be the perfectly named, Morbo, a mutant dancehall/dubstep that even the English wouldn't have dared to do, Electra Rex, with its deafening bass kick, and a very metallic Señorita, featuring Machinedrum. As always, Arca’s music is very unusual, and the fans are going to have a great time listening to Intimate Flesh and Joya at the end, relaxing in bed.On the following record, Kick iiii, Arca takes us back to a more downtempo mood, with a ton of delicate keys and cosmic passages bordering on palpable music. The languid Queer, featuring Planningtorock is in tune with the music, and there is even a synthetic ballad, Hija, that would make an android cry. While emos should find something they like with Lost Woman Found and Paw.Finally, Kick iiiii embodies the cycle of rebirth in this saga built by Arca, with a series of lullabies, including one designed especially for rave nostalgia, Amrep, which picks up the conventions of 90's techno before melting them into chaos. A record that continues almost without drums, with a monologue by Ryuichi Sakamoto, on a shamanic instrumental (Sanctuary), until the moving finale, Crown, where we find Arca's signature industrial kick, more inspired than ever. © Smaël Bouaici/Qobuz

There wasn't much that the emergent Star Wars culture didn't touch in the latter part of the 1970s, and War's 1977 LP, Galaxy, was no exception. As the band moved further and further from the funk that drove its earliest grooves through to its street-savvy "Low Rider" alter ego, War's core audience was co-opted by a new crop of fans just looking for a groove. Galaxy filled that gap well. On paper, the LP should have been driven by the title track -- a wonderful eight-minute frenzy that glories in compulsive hooks and weaves in some super-stellar Star Wars lyric riffing, all the while pounding the beat home underneath a rhythm borrowed from los Chakachas' "Jungle Fever." It's an outstanding opener. Unfortunately, the band drizzled downhill all the way through the rest of the set, across lightweight and uninspired material that couldn't even be redeemed by the sassy "Hey Señorita." Even the ballad "Sweet Fighting Lady" wasn't up to their usual down-tempo stuff, and any achievements were wiped right off the slate by the closer, "The Seven Tin Soldiers," which is an unending, unyielding 14-minute instrumental. One song, no matter how marvelously executed, does not an album make, and at the end of the day Galaxy couldn't pull the band out of its rut.© Amy Hanson /TiVo

Growing up is hard to do, as any teen pop idol will attest. Still, showbiz kids are nothing if not savvy, so they know it's better to make the jump than to idle as an idol, no matter how hard that jump may be -- and no matter how hard they try, it's hard to judge the distance, and they may miss their mark. With his debut solo album, Justified (face it, that title was a given), Justin Timberlake misses his mark slightly; he hits much closer than fellow Mickey Mouse Club alum Christina Aguilera did with her Stripped, but he's uneasy as a suave, mature loverman, particularly because much of his stance is borrowed directly (and rather improbably) from Michael Jackson. JT -- a shorthand nickname that's distressingly inevitable -- shamelessly borrows from Jacko, from the Thriller-era getup and poses to the sharply modernized spin on the classic Off the Wall sound. To be sure, the sound of the Neptunes productions which dominate Justified is the best thing about the album; they have a lush, sexy, stylish feel that is better, more romantic than most modern R&B. Too bad they're delivered by such a cipher. Though he's turned into a technically skilled vocalist, he's still too much of a showbiz kid -- all technique and surface, not much substance. His falsetto may be smooth, but it's utterly without character, which unfortunately describes the songs too: pretty on the surface, but devoid of memorable hooks. This means that what truly stands out is when he breaks from form and tries to prove how street and hip he is, delivering awful double-entendres like "I can think of a couple of positions for you" and "get real wet if you know what I mean" and exhorting the fellas and ladies to sing separately in a cringe-worthy affectation on "Senorita." When he sings that he'll "have you nekkid by the end of the song," he doesn't sound like a seductor, he sounds like a kid actor awkwardly assuming a new persona. This isn't without merit -- the sound, apart from some flop Timbaland productions (which he redeems with the slinky funk of "Right for Me"), works well, and if these cuts were songs instead of tracks, his bland falsetto would be fine. This sure isn't the musical immolation of Christina's ugly Stripped. Unlike that album, this suggests a direction Timberlake could follow in the future, given stronger songwriting collaborators. But Justified is just sound and posturing, with no core. [Bad packaging alert: the foldout booklet for Justified is merely stuck into the digipak for the album, with no sleeve or slot to house it; it's guaranteed to get beat up or lost.]© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

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Before releasing his first solo album, Puff Daddy (aka Sean "Puffy" Combs) was famous as the producer of the Notorious B.I.G., Junior Mafia, Craig Mack, Lil' Kim, and many other rappers. As he was making his solo debut, the Notorious B.I.G. was murdered, and that loss weighs heavily on Puff's mind throughout No Way Out. Even though the album has some funky party jams scattered throughout, the bulk of the album is filled with fear, sorrow, and anger, and it's not only evident on the tribute "I'll Be Missing You" (a duet with Faith Evans and 112 that is based on the Police's "Every Breath You Take") but also on gangsta anthems like "It's All About the Benjamins." That sense of loss makes No Way Out a more substantial album than most mid-'90s hip-hop releases, and even if it has flaws -- there's a bit too much filler and it runs a little long -- it is nevertheless a compelling, harrowing album that establishes Puff Daddy as a vital rapper in his own right.© Leo Stanley /TiVo

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Blowing the promise of his Hell Can Wait EP into an extraordinary double LP, Summertime '06 finds rapper Vince Staples with all the pieces in place. His delivery is still sneering and steady with a slight sway that suggests he's stoned, but like pop gangstas Chief Keef or Future, he can craft a memorable melody out of chopped-up nonsense. Check the infectious "Senorita" for proof, but also check the brilliant "Lift Me Up" for Staples as the elevated rap writer, offering an uncompromising gangsta stance that's both classic ("They follow me while shoppin") and pushing the envelope (Staples tears down a list of fashion labels that don't respect their urban audience). Cali references abound and still the music, most of it from producers No ID and Clams Casino, makes it seem as if the rapper lives in the shadows, not just because it is dark, but also because it is equally attractive and mysterious. Even with the revered duo in fine form, it's producer DJ Dahi who takes first prize, as "Birds & Bees" sounds like a paranoid funk breakdown, thick and brittle enough to accompany lyrics like "I'm a gangsta like my daddy/My mommy called me 'her problem' when she had me/They found another dead body in the alley." Splitting this weighty and rich effort into digestible chunks, the album's physical release comes on two separate discs, making Summertime '06 an artistic triumph wrapped in conceptually fitting package.© David Jeffries /TiVo