In the 20th century’s final decade, so-called alternative rock—an emphatic repudiation of arena rock and hair bands—was changing the definition of rock music forever. But did anyone in 1991 ever dream that Nirvana's Nevermind, which made alt-rock mainstream and immortalized the word "grunge" would become the last great rock record? With the music world too fragmented today to ever empower a Nevermind or even a Thriller, Nirvana's opus remains, along with Metallica's "Black Album" released the same year (and technically metal), the last rock album to sell somewhere over 20 million copies while becoming a widely beloved and influential landmark. But does all that mean a celebration with another multi-volume boxed set is needed every ten years? For Kurt Cobain fans the answer is obviously, yes please! And with the 30th anniversary set, they won't be disappointed; along with the remastered original album, four live shows have been officially released. Although they have a similar energy and nearly identical set lists that focus on Nevermind, the live shows, some of which have been famously bootlegged, do differ in sound quality. While the 1991 Amsterdam show has good depth and a natural resonance, a show from the same year in Del Mar, California has some speed issues, and while better than the original bootleg, is still dynamically limited. The 1992 Melbourne, Australia show has the best sound quality but a Tokyo show from the same year is clearly the worst sounding, obviously an audience tape that despite sonic restoration work has the familiar limited, recorded-in-a-jar fidelity of most cassette bootlegs. For fans of the original record—and also improved fidelity—this version of Nevermind, newly remastered from the original half-inch stereo analog tapes by Randy Merrill at Sterling Sound, can now be heard in high resolution 192kHz 24-bit sound. While the original Nevermind, produced by Butch Vig, recorded by Vig, Craig Doubet and Jeff Sheehan, and mixed by Andy Wallace was never a sonic disaster, the new high resolution is a noticeable improvement, though maybe one that Kurt Cobain wouldn't appreciate. Uncomfortable with the album's success and his subsequent celebrity, Cobain, who famously called the music on Nevermind, "the Knack and the Bay City Rollers getting molested by Black Flag and Black Sabbath," routinely criticized the original album as overproduced and not punk rock enough. The album's sonics have also been controversial with listeners, some of whom agreed with Cobain that compared to the band's 1989 debut Bleach, it was too accessible, too punchy, and ruined by what they perceived to be unnecessary gloss. Diametrically opposed though were the alt-rock haters for whom Nevermind was too sludgy, too loud, and disgustingly ill-defined. The crisper sound of the new high resolution transfer accentuates the clean pop production Wallace gave to the original album, and which despite Cobain's misgivings, played no small part in the album's massive success. Clarity, even when played loud, is where the high resolution is most obvious. And then there are the details. The swirling, side-to-side guitar part in "Come as You Are," for example, has never been clearer or more assertive. "Breed," the album's hit that never was, has been cleaned up in ways that Cobain would surely have thought were too pretty. His guitar part, which was repeatedly panned left and right, is more forward and defined. Dave Grohl's cymbals on the opening of "Lithium" have the edge of a jazz record. And in "On a Plain" Cobain's doubled vocals and the overdubs where he sings harmony with himself have never been clearer. Overall, the high resolution Nevermind has a lighter tone, an airier presence. Does a cleaner sounding Nevermind betray the band's punk rock intentions or subvert their grunge cred? A new Nevermind controversy is born. © Robert Baird/Qobuz

With Iechyd Da - “good health” in Welsh as he comes from West Kirby, a small town nestled in the Wirral peninsula between Wales and Liverpool - Bill Ryder-Jones begins 2024 with grace. This fifth record follows the hazy shoegaze of Yawn, released 5 years earlier, and Yawny Yawn, his stripped-back piano version. The ex-guitarist of The Coral embarked on his solo journey in 2008 with a definitive departure from the rock quintet, whose glory had become as overwhelming as its stresses. These difficulties and his own melancholy have formed the basis, throughout his career, of the Englishman’s intimate music of languid, chamber-like folk ballads.They roll out here with an immensity that is more organic and luminous, releasing the pain of thwarted love with soaring strings. Opting for orchestral pop, sometimes reminiscent of the 60s, the gritty songwriter always writes of his struggles but is now fuelled by hope. Mirroring contortions of the heart and mind, the rhythms speed up and fade out, and the orchestration builds and diminishes, illustrating his emotions with melodic precision and luxury. In this optimistic production, the mixing once again entrusted to James Ellis Ford, we hear for the first time a village children’s choir (“We Don’t Need Them”, “It’s Today Again”), which brings an innocent warmth. The whole thing gently closes with the delicate notes of the instrumental song “Nos Da” (“good night” in Welsh). Astounding. © Charlotte Saintoin/Qobuz

In the 20th century’s final decade, so-called alternative rock—an emphatic repudiation of arena rock and hair bands—was changing the definition of rock music forever. But did anyone in 1991 ever dream that Nirvana's Nevermind, which made alt-rock mainstream and immortalized the word "grunge" would become the last great rock record? With the music world too fragmented today to ever empower a Nevermind or even a Thriller, Nirvana's opus remains, along with Metallica's "Black Album" released the same year (and technically metal), the last rock album to sell somewhere over 20 million copies while becoming a widely beloved and influential landmark. But does all that mean a celebration with another multi-volume boxed set is needed every ten years? For Kurt Cobain fans the answer is obviously, yes please! And with the 30th anniversary set, they won't be disappointed; along with the remastered original album, four live shows have been officially released. Although they have a similar energy and nearly identical set lists that focus on Nevermind, the live shows, some of which have been famously bootlegged, do differ in sound quality. While the 1991 Amsterdam show has good depth and a natural resonance, a show from the same year in Del Mar, California has some speed issues, and while better than the original bootleg, is still dynamically limited. The 1992 Melbourne, Australia show has the best sound quality but a Tokyo show from the same year is clearly the worst sounding, obviously an audience tape that despite sonic restoration work has the familiar limited, recorded-in-a-jar fidelity of most cassette bootlegs. For fans of the original record—and also improved fidelity—this version of Nevermind, newly remastered from the original half-inch stereo analog tapes by Randy Merrill at Sterling Sound, can now be heard in high resolution 192kHz 24-bit sound. While the original Nevermind, produced by Butch Vig, recorded by Vig, Craig Doubet and Jeff Sheehan, and mixed by Andy Wallace was never a sonic disaster, the new high resolution is a noticeable improvement, though maybe one that Kurt Cobain wouldn't appreciate. Uncomfortable with the album's success and his subsequent celebrity, Cobain, who famously called the music on Nevermind, "the Knack and the Bay City Rollers getting molested by Black Flag and Black Sabbath," routinely criticized the original album as overproduced and not punk rock enough. The album's sonics have also been controversial with listeners, some of whom agreed with Cobain that compared to the band's 1989 debut Bleach, it was too accessible, too punchy, and ruined by what they perceived to be unnecessary gloss. Diametrically opposed though were the alt-rock haters for whom Nevermind was too sludgy, too loud, and disgustingly ill-defined. The crisper sound of the new high resolution transfer accentuates the clean pop production Wallace gave to the original album, and which despite Cobain's misgivings, played no small part in the album's massive success. Clarity, even when played loud, is where the high resolution is most obvious. And then there are the details. The swirling, side-to-side guitar part in "Come as You Are," for example, has never been clearer or more assertive. "Breed," the album's hit that never was, has been cleaned up in ways that Cobain would surely have thought were too pretty. His guitar part, which was repeatedly panned left and right, is more forward and defined. Dave Grohl's cymbals on the opening of "Lithium" have the edge of a jazz record. And in "On a Plain" Cobain's doubled vocals and the overdubs where he sings harmony with himself have never been clearer. Overall, the high resolution Nevermind has a lighter tone, an airier presence. Does a cleaner sounding Nevermind betray the band's punk rock intentions or subvert their grunge cred? A new Nevermind controversy is born. © Robert Baird/Qobuz

One of the reasons that Jackson Browne's first album is among the most auspicious debuts in pop music history is that it doesn't sound like a debut. Although only 23, Browne had kicked around the music business for several years, writing and performing as a member of the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band and as Nico's backup guitarist, among other gigs, while many artists recorded his material. So, if this doesn't sound like someone's first batch of songs, it's not. Browne had developed an unusual use of language, studiedly casual yet full of striking imagery, and a post-apocalyptic viewpoint to go with it. He sang with a calm certainty over spare, discretely placed backup -- piano, acoustic guitar, bass, drums, congas, violin, harmony vocals -- that highlighted the songs and always seemed about to disappear. In song after song, Browne described the world as a desert in need of moisture, and this wet/dry dichotomy carried over into much of the imagery. In "Doctor My Eyes," the album's most propulsive song and a Top Ten hit, he sang, "Doctor, my eyes/Cannot see the sky/Is this the prize/For having learned how not to cry?" If Browne's outlook was cautious, its expression was original. His conditional optimism seemed to reflect hard experience, and in the early '70s, the aftermath of the '60s, a lot of his listeners shared that perspective. Like any great artist, Browne articulated the tenor of his times. But the album has long since come to seem a timeless collection of reflective ballads touching on still-difficult subjects -- suicide (explicitly), depression and drug use (probably), spiritual uncertainty and desperate hope -- all in calm, reasoned tones, and all with an amazingly eloquent sense of language. Jackson Browne's greater triumph is that, having perfectly expressed its times, it transcended those times as well. (The album features a cover depicting Browne's face on a water bag -- an appropriate reference to its desert/water imagery -- containing the words "saturate before using." Inevitably, many people began to refer to the self-titled album by that phrase, and when it was released on CD, it nearly became official -- both the disc and the spine of the jewel box read Saturate Before Using.)© William Ruhlmann /TiVo

On her ninth album, P!nk proves to be something her tough-edged younger self might never have imagined: graceful. At 43, she's long abandoned the sometimes seductive, sometimes challenging snarl of her early work, as well as the party-girl persona of albums like Funhouse. The scene is set with "When I Get There," a piano-and-strings ballad for her father, who died in 2021. ("Is there a bar up there/ Where you've got a favorite chair … Is there a place you go/ To watch the sunset, oh.") P!nk has said that the album was partly inspired, as so many records of this era are, by the pandemic and, in her case, seeing her young son so ill with Covid-19. "The panic is temporary/ But I'll be permanent ... As scary as it gets/ It's just turbulent," she sings on "Turbulence," offering pragmatism and the wisdom, born from experience, that shocks will pass. She's also a gracious collaborator, letting her duet partners sound like themselves rather than bending them completely to her polished pop sound. The Lumineers bring along familiar marching drum rolls and Wesley Schultz's warm vocals for "Long Way to Go." Likewise, "Kids In Love," with the Swedish siblings of First Aid Kit, is as airy and folky as anything by that duo. And you can tell P!nk is a true fan of Chris Stapleton. "Just Say I'm Sorry," their closing collaboration, sounds like a Stapleton song: romantic, nostalgic, with a Roy Orbison-esque melody and the country singer's evocative guitar tone. His voice is as powerful as P!nk's—it's not so much leather and lace as leather and brightly colored leather—yet neither of them overpowers the other. But look, P!nk is still here to have a good time. The title track, co-written with Snow Patrol's Johnny McDaid, glitters with EDM beats. And she called up old collaborators Max Martin and Shellback, who produced her 2010 hit "Raise Your Glass," to help concoct "Never Gonna Not Dance Again"—a sunny, shimmering disco number with tropical-breeze horns and rhythmic "d-d-d-dance" stuttering that sounds a whole lot like Justin Timberlake's "Can't Stop the Feeling." Writer/producer Greg Kurstin, a favorite of female artists including Kelly Clarkson, Sia and P!nk herself (he worked on 2012's The Truth About Love album), layers on post-punk guitars and a pop-punk chant ("Oh no! Here we go!") to help the singer tap into the spitfire of her early work with "Hate Me": "She's loud and drunk/ Let's take her down to size … I'm the villain you made me," P!nk sings. "Last Call" has a light country flavor, "Feel Something" offers R&B vibes and tender acoustics from experimental guitarist Nate Mercereau, and "Lost Cause" could be a Disney ballad with its soaring chorus. And, lest you forget the amazing vocal leaps and tricks P!nk is capable of, "Our Song" slathers on expansive range and Broadway-worthy drama to remind the world: it's all about that voice. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

From the opening rumble of John Lennon's "Come Together" leading into George Harrison's seductive "Something," Paul McCartney's tuneful doowop ballad "Oh Darling," and Ringo Starr's charmingly goofy "Octopus Garden," (all progressing to the nearly side-long medley that appropriately closes with "And in the end/the love you take/is equal to the love you make") Abbey Road—renowned as the final golden moment in The Beatles’ otherwise unpleasant demise—is arguably the band's masterpiece. The latest in a systematic remixing and reissuing of the Beatles catalog directed by original producer George Martin's son Giles, Abbey Road has been remixed and reissued in various configurations including 5.1 surround and Dolby Atmos to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the album's release. The 96 kHz/24-bit high resolution stereo remix adds space and dynamics to deepen and brighten the original. The allure for those already familiar with the original album are 23 alternate takes and demos meant to shed light on the band's famed creative process. The revelations are subtle but telling. Lennon's wit shows through on a bit of studio patter left into an alternate take of "I Want You" (he responds to a noise complaint from Soho neighbors of Trident Studio with "What are they doing here at this time of night?" and his impassioned vocals on "Come Together (Take 5)," where at the end he can be heard saying "I'm losing my cool," speaks to the enthusiasm that the band had for these sessions. The nearly-there 36th take of "You Never Give Me Your Money," and the 20th takes of "Sun King" and "Mean Mr. Mustard," are examples of how the material evolved and was sharpened in the studio. Conversely, McCartney's piano and plaintive singing on "Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight" (Takes 1-3), a tune whose line, "Once there was a way to get back homeward," often cited as an expression of regret over the band's crumbling—shows how the band sometimes had a concept firmly in mind before the tape began to roll. Although the previously recorded Let It Be would be released six months later (and just a few weeks after the Beatles' break-up), Abbey Road is the sound of the most unique creative force in the history of popular music bidding farewell; those incredibly talented parts become a fabulous whole for the last time. © Robert Baird / Qobuz

After selling out the Parisian jazz clubs on Rue des Lombards by word of mouth alone, Gabi Hartmann has stepped into the spotlight in recent years by opening for famous artists such as Jamie Cullum and Melody Gardot. She has now released her first album, which should consolidate her reputation as a young artist as it combines fresh inspiration with technical skill. Conceived in close collaboration with Jesse Harris (a New York guitarist, songwriter and producer renowned for his work with Norah Jones, Melody Gardot and Madeleine Peyroux), this signature album gives Gabi Hartmann the opportunity to lay the foundations of her own artistic path and make every facet of it shimmer by exploring highly refined nuances. Gabi is a singer, composer, lyricist and arranger who can effortlessly switch from English to French (there’s even a Portuguese interlude!). Here, she offers a tempting glimpse into a halftone world that’s cottony by design, taking inspiration from contemporary cool (post)jazz (‘Buzzing Bee’) as well as sophisticated and timeless songs (‘Une Errante sur la terre’, ‘Mille Rivages’). She regularly flirts with a subtly deterritorialised Americana (‘I’ll Tell You Something, Baby’) and ‘exotic’ colours and rhythms (as heard on the magnificent cover of the West Indian classic ‘Maladie d’amour’). With her vibrant voice, warm, bright tone and slightly nonchalant phrasing, the French singer dives into subtle orchestrations that combine light choirs, laid-back rhythms, and the distant echoes of retro clarinets, ethnic flutes (the Sudanese Gandhi Adam) and bluesy guitars (Julian Lage and Abdoulaye Kouyaté). Gabi takes the listener on a journey through dreamland with this release. © Stéphane Ollivier/Qobuz

Refreshing and free, Something to Give Each Other is the sound of a maturing artist taking a bold step into the spotlight. Three years after his last EP and a full half-decade since his previous full-length, Troye Sivan finally does what he came to do, delivering an effervescent dose of pop that is all-at-once endearing, explicit, and exciting. In addition to the horny lead single "Rush" -- one of the most memorable singles of 2023 -- Something... is packed with a wide range of gems that range from club-friendly dance anthems ("Got Me Started," "Silly," and "What's the Time Where You Are?") to romantic, midtempo sweetness ("In My Room," "One of Your Girls"). The young artist responsible for his earlier, more introspective bedroom pop material is still at work here, while that liberated spirit that began to "Bloom" in 2018 has taken the reins and successfully reached a place where he can be himself. As such, Something to Give Each Other succeeds because Sivan has been freed: to be who he wants to be and express that through his most engaging and addictive album to date.© Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo

On 19 June 2006, someone called Taylor Swift released her first single, Tim McGraw, a straightforward homage to the country singer of the same name. She was only 17 and stood out as a potential future queen of country pop... A good decade later, queen she is: but of pop tout court! The Disney cowgirl getup is gone, replaced by the pop R&B icon who has conquered the heights of the charts, but who, above all, has been able to impose her style and her writing as a canonical part of the modern genre. With Reputation, her royal crown never threatens to fall from her head. On the contrary. With this sixth album, Taylor Swift certainly has not equalled 1989, her most accomplished record released in 2014, though she confirms that she is to her times what Madonna was to the 80s and 90s. Really, it should be enjoyed for what it is: great pop, with catchy choruses, pumped–up production (the Swedish pairing of Max Martin/Shellback as well as the American Jack Antonoff are in charge here) and her autobiographical lyrics which juggle with looove, liiife, fruuustration, saaadness, haaappiness, etc. Here, Taylor Swift unburdens her soul, in particular about how the limelight can burn, especially on Call It What You Want where she explains that she isn't what she's said to be… this saccharine orgy concludes with an even more melancholy piano ballad, New Year’s Day. We leave Reputation realising that the star has pulled clearly away ahead of Katy Perry, Lady Gaga and Miley Cyrus. © CM/Qobuz

In re-writing the first line of “Something” by George Harrison, Julia Holter found the title for her sixth album. The American devoured the documentary Get Back, which follows the Beatles in the preparation of their final concert, fascinated by their collective rivalry. Although she may dream of collaborations, the songwriter remains a lone ranger. Since becoming a mother after Aviary (2018), she paints more fluid landscapes where the body predominates. It also appears on the album cover, illustrated by Cristina Quarles. “There’s a corporeal focus, inspired by the complexity and transformability of our bodies,” she explains. It’s undoubtedly for this reason that her voice, unburdened by affect or melancholy, is so very present.In order to inform her approach of fluidity, the multi-instrumentalist claims to have been inspired by Miyaki’s animated film Ponyo, in which a little fish girl wants to become human. Less partial to overly-complex sonoric layering this time around, she has created more pared-down textures which lie somewhere between minimalism, avant-gardism, and chamber pop, where clutter quickly makes way for silence. From melodic exploration (“Something in the Room She Moves”) to the search for refinement with “Meyou,” a vocal piece made up of glissandos which calls upon her love for Renaissance polyphony, from the muted, dreamlike brass instruments on “These Morning,” to the ambient layers of “Ocean,” from the luxuriant instrumentation of “Sun Girl” or “Spinning,” to the jazz dissonances and delays of “Talking to the Whisper,” all is in perpetual movement. "Something in the Room She Moves” adds yet another gem to the impeccable discography of the elusive genius that is Julia Holter. © Charlotte Saintoin/Qobuz

Whereas Rush's first two releases, their self-titled debut and Fly by Night, helped create a buzz among hard rock fans worldwide, the more progressive third release, Caress of Steel, confused many of their supporters. Rush knew it was now or never with their fourth release, and they delivered just in time -- 1976's 2112 proved to be their much sought-after commercial breakthrough and remains one of their most popular albums. Instead of choosing between prog rock and heavy rock, both styles are merged together to create an interesting and original approach. The entire first side is comprised of the classic title track, which paints a chilling picture of a future world where technology is in control (Peart's lyrics for the piece being influenced by Ayn Rand). Comprised of seven "sections," the track proved that the trio members were fast becoming rock's most accomplished instrumentalists. The second side contains shorter selections, such as the Middle Eastern-flavored "A Passage to Bangkok" and the album-closing rocker "Something for Nothing." 2112 is widely considered by Rush fans as their first true "classic" album, the first in a string of similarly high-quality albums.© Greg Prato /TiVo

In 2015, Melody Gardot stepped out of her comfort zone with Currency of Man, an album which suited her entirely but displayed a more soul’n’blues side. That is not to say that her brilliant past efforts were not in keeping with her musical personality, but it was with this record that she confirmed her love for Philadelphia, the town in which she grew up and where groove holds a different meaning.  Five years later, Sunset in the Blue holds all the hallmarks of a return to the singer’s old days which made Melody Gardot’s name. The album is a stripped-back approach to jazz and bossa-nova as imposed by the unexpected circumstances of the year 2020. When the album was beginning development, the pandemic brought a halt to everything an forced the American to rethink the project. She hence proposed that her associates, spread out all over the world, work from a distance. Melody Gardot was based in Paris, her arranger and conductor Vince Mendoza in Los Angeles and the majority of her musicians in England! Despite these constraints, the miracle record was on course for creation which would span a period of roughly five months. And so, Mendoza found himself conducting on-screen from California with musicians playing in London’s Abbey Road Studios (things weren’t made any easier considering the various time-differences). In addition to Mendoza, Melody Grant recruited a set of silky smooth sound connoisseurs who were also instrumental in the success of 2009’s My One and Only Thrill: the producer Larry Klein and sound engineer Al Schmitt.Upon listening to the end result, however, we soon forget the last-minute DIY means with which this album was made. Because throughout Sunset in the Blue, Melody Gardot maintains a fascinatingly solid and intimate direction. Here we see a return to Gardot whispering hypnotically into the ear as she sings amid intermittent piano phrases and guitars. Her voice gracefully lounges upon a bed of refined and perfectly balanced violin strings. This formula reaches an irresistible climax with the album’s title track as she turns to her much-loved Brazil with tracks like Ninguém, Ninguém and Um Beljo, before she returns to the exquisite-sounding Moon River and I Fall in Love too Easily. A beautiful album which finishes with a somewhat intrusive track, Little Something, a pop duet with Sting that doesn’t really fit in with Sunset in the Blue’s general mood. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

Real Power is Gossip's first album in 12 years, when singer Beth Ditto walked away to launch a solo career, act, start a clothing line and model. She has admitted to needing a break, but that "in the music industry you're not allowed to have that. So you end up making things you don't like. You become a product." Indeed, Gossip's last record, A Joyful Noise, felt a bit phoned-in after the hurricane force of their mid-aughts, indie sleaze-defining output. Now, the band is recharged, but bearing battle scars—Ditto divorced her wife, who she had been with since she was 18; lost her father; and fell out of sorts with co-founder and guitarist Nathan "Brace Paine" Howdeshell after he became a born-again Christian. The two have repaired their relationship and, along with drummer Hannah Blilie, they're not just re-treading the same old ground. For one thing, producer Rick Rubin—a Buddhist and Transcendental Meditation devotee who can rock out with the best of them—was a fascinating choice to oversee their comeback, and Ditto has said he brought a needed calm and peace to the proceedings. That does not mean boring. Songs like "Tough" and "Don't Be Afraid" feel stripped down and vulnerable compared to old Gossip records; that's not to say stark, but the air shifts to allow Ditto to bare a tender, Freda Payne-esque side. "Crazy Again" is subdued but with sunny guitar and a great kick-in, as Ditto seems to sing about finding love after divorce: "Don't invite me home/ I'm fragile at the moment/ Heart of glass." "Turn the Card Slowly," meanwhile, feels haunted—its edgy, lone-wolf guitar line tracking lines such as "Is it the last time?/ Was it the first time?/ Your love is a swinging door"; it's like a transmission from some alternate Stevie Nicks universe. "Edge of the Sun" is velveteen dance-floor pop, "Give It Up for Love" plays with New Wave disco, and "Light It Up" applies a sing-song melody to emo-pop mid-tempo balladry. "Act of God" is an absolute fearless delight: a thick slab of Motown soul set to cheeky organ and a great galloping rhythm, conjuring wild horses tromping across a landscape. And the title track sounds like revolution via the revelation that it's not enough just to make a difference in an insular community. Accompanied by cool funk guitar and buzzy synth, Ditto sounds every bit the soul diva as she declares "Rhythm in my blood, my heart is pounding … I want real power." © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

"Seeking fans of Peter, Paul & Mary and Hüsker Dü". It was this simple small-ad that saw Frank Black, then going by "Black Francis" find his Pixies band-mates, surely the most innovative adventure in rock of the late 1980s. Teetering on an unstable bridge linking the wildest, most de-structured punk and the most joyful pop, the Boston quartet shook things up with their changes in rhythm and other bizarre dissonances. For their first recordings from 1987 and 1988, everything and anything was grist to the mill of their genius: surf music, bubblegum pop, art rock, angular post-punk – each great swerve madder than the last. Joey Santiago's guitar is wild with electric shocks; Kim Deal is bouncing off the walls, and Black Francis belches out the craziest stories. A simply spellbinding first album! © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

The expectations of a son carrying on his deceased father's musical legacy are unenviable. That the son is carrying on his father's legacy under a similar—but not exactly identical—name, and in a similar—but not exactly identical—musical style, and with occasional—but not consistent—inclusions of his father's repertoire in live performances ... well, all that somehow manages to both scramble and increase those expectations. However, for the past 14 years, more than half as long as the original Penguin Cafe Orchestra performed under the leadership of Simon Jeffes, multi-instrumentalist Arthur Jeffes has been at the helm of Penguin Cafe, a group that not only includes no members of the Penguin Cafe Orchestra but also one that stakes its reputation on new, original material.Rain Before Seven is the sixth album of that original material and while Arthur Jeffes certainly doesn't shy away from evoking the multi-instrumental, quasi-folk/quasi-classical soundworld that his father pioneered in the 1970s, the younger Jeffes's approach leans much more heavily on the atmospheric soundscapes indulged in by many contemporary classical crossover artists. Although there's a raft of "real" instruments at work here—ranging from piano and strings to ukulele and (naturally) harmonium—there's a distinct sheen of digital architecture that undergirds the material on Rain Before Seven, giving it less of an organic sense of adventure and more like it's being optimized for music library placement or chill-vibes-playlist inclusion. Cuts like "Galahad" and "No One Really Leaves," are by no means unpleasant, but far less interesting than they could be, with rhythms that are pretty straightforward and undemanding, and arrangements that leave little to the imagination. Where Rain Before Seven really shines, however, is on the more complex and whimsical numbers, like "In Re Budd," which doesn't sound at all like a Harold Budd piano piece but does feature the balafon, a West African xylophone, making dense, circular rhythms and gentle, airborne melodies. Similarly, the album closer "Goldfinch" is both epic and intimate, with Jeffes & Co. pulling out all the instrumental stops, with strings pulling triple duty in quartet format, as well as wild violin solos and folksy fiddling. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

Austin is the album that Post Malone hinted at for years. As close to being self-titled as possible, this is the most authentic and vulnerable he's sounded to date. Finally embracing the guitar-based, rock side of his personality, it's bound to be polarizing. On one hand, this set is a gift for fans of such pop-polished hits as "Circles" and "Sunflower" (as well as his online rock covers, like the Nirvana tribute he did in 2020). However, for listeners pining for those "White Iverson" days, this might be a jarring shift: there's no guest features or booming, trap-heavy production to be found (the closest he comes is on the bittersweet "Mourning" and the stomping "Texas Tea"). While Austin isn't a pure "rock" album or peppy "Posty-gone-bubblegum" exercise by any means, it's definitely Post Malone at his most mainstream-accessible and, beyond that, freer than anything he's done previously. Mr. Post is still sad and struggling with the trappings of fame and alcohol -- conveyed on a couple of Austin's sparse, dour moments ("Don't Understand" and "Green Thumb") -- but this time around, he's bloodletting with the help of a guitar, some synth-kissed production ("Speedometer"), and the occasional bit of country twang ("Hold My Breath"). Hit single "Chemical" is a breezy, pop punk-leaning surge of energy, while the midtempo "Too Cool to Die" borders on soft rock. The yearning indie pop of "Enough Is Enough" soars to the arena rafters, just as the wry closer, "Laugh It Off," could inspire a stadium full of lighters (or phone flashlights). Album standout "Something Real" is the true star of the show: swelling with the power of a backing choir and towering production on the chorus, the track pushes Posty's frustration to the point of bursting on tense verses that chart his various struggles. And just as his cries to the heavens break through the clouds, he drops a head-spinning, profane reference to "Für Elise" that's paired with a genius vocal run of said song. That's just one of many moments that'll stick in your head long after the album ends. Melodic and heartfelt, Austin surprises at nearly every turn, whether that's by an unexpected sonic detour or the simple fact that Post Malone has never sounded this fearless.© Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo

Killer Mike would rather be contradictory than one-dimensional: he's advocated for both socialist causes and self-sufficient Black capitalism, campaigned for progressive icon Bernie Sanders and broken bread with conservative Georgia governor Brian Kemp, and seems constantly torn—on and off the mic—between opening haters' minds and putting their brains to sleep. But with Michael, the Atlanta rapper's most personal and autonomously definitive album since his solo debut Monster 20 years earlier, the son of a policeman father and a mother who trafficked cocaine navigates the more personal and formative influences in his life that led him to his status as an outspoken one-man multitude. Mike reveals himself as someone whose upfront lyrical frankness and high-displacement-muscle-car-V8-engine of a voice belies deeper complications in his perspective—an ongoing process that reckons with the burden of what he owes people. For his mother and grandmother, both deceased and paid moving tribute to in "Motherless," what he owes is everything—his empathy, his insight, his ability to be a strong parent. For his detractors, "Talkin Dat SHIT!" owes them a verbal beating, not just invoking but channeling Three 6 Mafia and UGK as he personifies the G-as-activist ("you a leech, I'm a leader"). He gives his musical collaborators—Andre 3000 and Future elevating the next-phase utopianism of "Scientists & Engineers," Young Thug wringing both impassioned intensity and reflective quiet to his triplet flow on "RUN," El-P holding forth like a welcome guest in his Run the Jewels partner's home on "Don't Let the Devil"—the kind of free reign that only comes with the confidence of a vet who doesn't fear or even care about the possibility of being shown up. The production by No I.D. plays to the church pews, scoring straight-up sermons before driving souls to the polls, and the Chicago beatmaker's gospel/R&B inflections are just Atlanta enough to complete what few locally rooted details Mike leaves out. And what does Mike owe himself? Going by the impassioned soul-searching of "Shed Tears," the answer is a reckoning, a catharsis, an acknowledgement of the pain that made him even when it hurts to recall. Mike has stayed angry enough to challenge power and idealistic enough to believe those in power can be moved by his presence—but with a presence like his, it's not easy to doubt him. © Nate Patrin/Qobuz

Boston is one of the best-selling albums of all time, and deservedly so. Because of the rise of disco and punk, FM rock radio seemed all but dead until the rise of acts like Boston, Tom Petty, and Bruce Springsteen. Nearly every song on Boston's debut album could still be heard on classic rock radio decades later due to the strong vocals of Brad Delp and unique guitar sound of Tom Scholz. Tom Scholz, who wrote most of the songs, was a studio wizard and used self-designed equipment such as 12-track recording devices to come up with an anthemic "arena rock" sound before the term was even coined. The sound was hard rock, but the layered melodies and harmonics reveal the work of a master craftsman. While much has been written about the sound of the album, the lyrics are often overlooked. There are songs about their rise from a bar band ("Rock and Roll Band") as well as fond remembrances of summers gone by ("More Than a Feeling"). Boston is essential for any fan of classic rock, and the album marks the re-emergence of the genre in the 1970s.© Vik Iyengar /TiVo