His first record sans the Heartbreakers, Full Moon Fever is a career-definer for Petty straight from the opening notes of "Free Fallin." With bright guitar chords, the singer-songwriter's "And I'm free" howl, and backing vocals that crest like a Pacific wave, the song — indeed, the whole album — evokes the underlying melancholy of sunny Los Angeles. Full Moon Fever is also a tribute to Petty’s idols. Producer and co-writer Jeff Lynne of ELO layers on his signature pop polish, while leaving Petty’s raw-nerve vocals exposed. George Harrison’s harmonies give the defiant anthem "I Won’t Back Down" unexpected sweetness. Del Shannon gets a shout-out on the mischievous "Runnin' Down a Dream" — propelled by Heartbreaker Mike Campbell’s hellfire-and-brimstone guitar — and Roy Orbison hams up the chorus for the organ-chugging weirdness that is "Zombie Zoo." There’s even a true-blue cover of the Byrds’ "Feel A Whole Lot Better." But the star here, as ever, is Petty: cracking jokes on the jangling "Yer So Bad", tugging at the heartstrings with lullabye "Alright for Now" or snarling on the spaced-out "Love is a Long Road." © Qobuz

Benefit was the album on which the Jethro Tull sound solidified around folk music, abandoning blues entirely. Beginning with the opening number, "With You There to Help Me," Anderson adopts his now-familiar, slightly mournful folksinger/sage persona, with a rather sardonic outlook on life and the world; his acoustic guitar carries the melody, joined by Martin Barre's electric instrument for the crescendos. This would be the model for much of the material on Aqualung and especially Thick as a Brick, although the acoustic/electric pairing would be executed more effectively on those albums. Here the acoustic and electric instruments are merged somewhat better than they were on Stand Up (on which it sometimes seemed like Barre's solos were being played in a wholly different venue), and as needed, the electric guitars carry the melodies better than on previous albums. Most of the songs on Benefit display pleasant, delectably folk-like melodies attached to downbeat, slightly gloomy, but dazzlingly complex lyrics, with Barre's guitar adding enough wattage to keep the hard rock listeners very interested. "To Cry You a Song," "Son," and "For Michael Collins, Jeffrey and Me" all defined Tull's future sound: Barre's amp cranked up to ten (especially on "Son"), coming in above Anderson's acoustic strumming, a few unexpected changes in tempo, and Anderson spouting lyrics filled with dense, seemingly profound imagery and statements. As on Stand Up, the group was still officially a quartet, with future member John Evan (whose John Evan Band had become the nucleus of Jethro Tull two years before) appearing as a guest on keyboards; his classical training proved essential to the expanding of the group's sound on the three albums to come. Benefit was reissued in a remastered edition with bonus tracks at the end of 2001, which greatly improved the clarity of the playing and the richness of the sound; the four additional tracks are "Singing All Day," "Witch's Promise," the elegant, gossamer-textured "Just Trying to Be," and the original U.K. mix of "Teacher." Written and recorded prior to Benefit, they're all lighter in mood than the material from the original album, adding some greater variety but fitting in perfectly on a stylistic level.© Bruce Eder /TiVo

The natural wear and tear of a couple? Houston Person and Ron Carter wouldn’t know… A quarter of a century after the beginning of their collaboration, the tenor saxophonist and the double bassist (both now in their eighties) continue their beautiful partnership. For Remember Love, they climb up the Everest of the American Songbook; they’re themes that have been played a thousand times by the whole world, yet the warmth of the duo’s interpretation makes them fascinating. Person’s tenor is a summit of gentleness and languor. Carter’s feline double bass scales the steep paths. We find here two wise old men playing with pure musical velvet. It’s no reinvention of the menu of the day, but beautiful all the same… © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

Along with her Rodgers and Hart collection, this is one of the best of Ella Fitzgerald's songbooks. Fitzgerald's assured and elegant voice is a perfect match for Mercer's urbane lyrics and Nelson Riddle's supple arrangements. In light of this decorous setting, it's not surprising that Mercer's swagger-heavy numbers like "I Wanna Be Around" and "One More For My Baby" are skipped in favor of more poised selections such as "Early Autumn" and "Skylark." Even traditionally hard-swinging numbers such as "Day In Day Out" and "Something's Gotta Give" are kept in check with Riddle's vaporous, flute-heavy backing and Fitzgerald's velvet tone. Slower numbers like "Laura" and "Midnight Sun" add dramatic contrast with their enigmatic tonal backdrops and elongated vocal phrasing. Fitzgerald's Mercer songbook has become something of an overlooked gem partly because of the popularity of her Cole Porter and Gershwin collections. It's a shame, because this songbook is beautifully executed by Fitzgerald and Riddle and contains wonderful Mercer collaborations with, among others, Harold Arlen and Hoagy Charmichael. This is definitely one for any Fitzgerald fan and not a bad introduction to her vast catalog.© Stephen Cook /TiVo

Ella Fitzgerald's idea to sing the songbooks of major writers proved smart, savvy, and artful. By the time she began to record Sings the Harold Arlen Song Book in 1960, she had sung the songbooks of Duke Ellington, Rodgers & Hart, and Irving Berlin. This relaxed and tastefully arranged set showcases Fitzgerald in her prime, confidently engaging 28 of Arlen's best songs. Familiar pieces like "One for My Baby" and "That Old Black Magic" make appearances, along with all-time classics like "Stormy Weather" and "Over the Rainbow." On this latter tune, she adds the front verses, an appealing addition that few will be familiar with. Billy May's orchestra lays down a quiet mix of horns and strings that perfectly supports Fitzgerald on songs like "When the Sun Comes Out" and "Happiness Is a Thing Called Joe." Four bonus tracks, including two alternative cuts, spice up the package. A particular oddity, "Ding Dong! The Witch Is Dead," converts surprisingly well into big-band jazz. Sings the Harold Arlen Song Book is an exquisite album, a classic in vocal jazz, and one of Fitzgerald's best recordings. © Ronnie D. Lankford Jr. /TiVo

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Defiance runs deep in Lynyrd Skynyrd's DNA but 2012's Last of a Dyin' Breed finds the veteran Southern rockers hunkering down, emphasizing their old-fashioned outlaw ways. All the recognizable redneck rebel sentiments are here -- it's all god, guns, Southern girls, and sweet tea -- but Skynyrd's signature sound is absent. In this, their third act, the kings of Southern rock have cut out the country and boogie, leaving behind a heavy-booted blues grind and churning hard rock -- sounds that signify the modern South even if they're not classically Southern rock. And that fits for this incarnation of Lynyrd Skynyrd. They may flirt with fleeting references to their past -- the first verse of "Good Teacher" recalling "The Ballad of Curtis Loew," the soaring soul-speckled ballad "Ready to Fly" a distant cousin of "Freebird" -- but Johnny Van Zant, Gary Rossington, and Rickey Medlocke aren't in this game just to revive past glories; they're engaging with the modern world, co-opting the leaden stripper rock of Nickelback for "Homegrown," once again bringing back former Marilyn Manson guitarist John 5 for a cameo, and writing a Tea Party anthem in "Nothing Comes Easy." Certainly, Skynyrd are making sturdy, old-time rock & roll for an audience that's likely peppered with Tea Partiers, the kind of Middle American worried that the world they knew is slipping away, and Last of a Dyin' Breed provides a bit of a rallying point for them: it's true to their roots but living in the moment. If Skynyrd sound a little less nimble than they used to, chalk it up not to age but to the conscious decision to play everything heavier than before; without elements of the backwoods, they're dogged rockers, happy to carry the torch they lit nearly four decades ago even if it doesn't burn as bright as it once did.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Jakob Bro calmly continues on his way, making no waves, but still a guitarist who counts. Underestimated, little-publicised, but truly exciting. Sound, space, melody, silence: the Danish forty-something year old from the ECM crew has his own language, even though the influence of an elder musician like Bill Frisell appears here and there. It's a language that he takes on new paths, such as Uma Elmo, where he is accompanied by the Norwegian Arve Henriksen and Jorge Rossy from Spain. The originality of a guitar, trumpet, drums trio allows the melodies – all written by Bro – to develop in unexpected ways. Here, the three intelligently manipulate sound textures, keeping the serene ambience from seeming slick or even vain. Because this music, which alternates between meditative tracks and live sets, evokes strong emotions. It is as if we are caught in the ocean of sound in which Henriksen's trumpet sings a completely hypnotic siren song, Bro's guitar blows hot and cold, all punctuated by Rossy's stimulating rhythms. On Housework, the exchanges happen against the current, as in a dream, leading to a kind of unstructured jazz held together in a flow of electronic magma. Jakob Bro also salutes his forebears. To Stanko is a tribute to the Polish trumpeter Tomasz Stanko who died in 2018 and who had welcomed him into his Dark Eyes Quintet. And Music for Black Pigeons is dedicated to the great saxophonist Lee Konitz, who died in 2020... We leave Uma Elmo exhausted. It's a good kind of mental tiredness. Physical, too. A demanding experience and a tonic, that constantly pushes the boundaries of improvised music. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

British pop singer Kim Wild presents Wilde Winter Songbook, a holiday compilation that features a mix of classic Christmas songs, covers of contemporary seasonal songs, and original music. The album includes a duet with Rick Astley on "Winter Wonderland" and a cover of Fleet Foxes' "White Winter Hymnal."© Liam Martin /TiVo

Call him pretentious, call him sensitive, call him what you will, but there's no denying the fact that Conor Oberst is a talented and intelligent songwriter. Actually, it's probably more correct to say that Bright Eyes are a group of talented and intelligent songwriters, because it's the pedal steel, the clamorous percussion, the orchestral arrangements, the thick background vocals that add to the songs in Cassadaga -- the band's fullest and most developed record to date -- almost as much as the lead singer's own wobbly voice and sharp lyrics. Because the album is, like all of Bright Eyes' albums, very much about the words. Besides the usual swatch of Middle America character sketches and the occasional political allusions, Oberst writes dialogue that travels throughout the record, questioning religion and truth and love and purpose the entire time. He knows he has to go somewhere, and he's hoping that if he just keeps moving, where exactly that is will make itself clear. "Cassadaga might be just a premonition of a place you're going to visit," a psychic says to him in the opener, "Clairaudients (Kill or Be Killed)," which acts an introduction to both the album's musical (slightly spacy, organic acoustic melodies) and lyrical (direction, control) themes. Oberst sees himself in a place where "everything must belong somewhere" and "death may come invisible," a place where mystics and clairvoyants can tell us as much about our own selves as we can, a place where destiny exists, a place where God is both an omnipotent "Brakeman" and a myth construed in books. Perhaps because of this, Oberst appears more unsure than he ever has. But also because of this, this lack of control, it's not an insecurity about himself that he feels, but rather a kind of shadowy acceptance of the uncertainty of life. "The 'I don't know,' the 'maybe so'/Is the only real reply," which he sings on the stormy Western dirge "Middleman," his voice accepting and empty at the same time, is the most truthful assurance he can offer. Because, despite the gravity of the ideas presented on Cassadaga, it's not a depressing or even overly serious album. Rather, it's finding what you can, be it a geographic location or a mind state, when and how you can, amid the incomprehensible world around you; it's Americana, full of folky acoustic guitars and dobro and dissent and yet, still, a kind of hopeful optimism that can't hide itself completely under the strings, clarinets, and cynical irony; it's a mature interpretation of life, not just whining complaints. "I'm leaving this place but there's nothing I'm planning to take/Just you," Oberst confesses on "No One Would Riot for Less." Where he's going -- Manhattan, California, the Hague, New England, or even Cassadaga itself -- he doesn't know, but he's going to keep looking until he finds it, and he's got his guitar, his simple chords, his verses and choruses, to help him (and perhaps us) along. © Marisa Brown /TiVo