The product of the same early 1969 Memphis sessions under producer Chips Moman that yielded the classic From Elvis in Memphis LP in 1969, Back in Memphis is usually thought of as a distinctly lesser album, but that's far too simplistic and harsh a judgement. For starters, any album that contains Elvis' rendition of Percy Mayfield's "Stranger in My Home Town" isn't going to be seriously "lesser" than too many albums on the planet -- that's a given. Indeed, any other singer who released an LP comprised of ten songs as good as those found here could have sat back and congratulated himself on a job magnificently done. "This Is the Story," "Inherit the Wind," "A Little Bit of Green," and "And the Grass Won't Pay No Mind" are all superb Presley vocal showcases, presenting him at his most powerful and expressive up to that point, with the last among the most beautiful album tracks that the King ever cut. His rendition of Mort Shuman's "You'll Think of Me" is a soaring, passionate record, Elvis' voice lofted over a soul chorus and a brass- and dobro-dominated accompaniment, all carrying one of the prettiest melodies that he ever sang. And the finale, "Without Love," is another Presley homage to Clyde McPhatter, one of the first soul singers to inspire him, whose work Elvis first embraced officially on the finale of his very first long-player (ending Elvis Presley with his rendition of McPhatter's hit "Money Honey" back in 1956). Oh, there's nothing here of the extraordinary quality of "In the Ghetto," "Any Day Now," or "Long Black Limousine" -- though "And the Grass Won't Pay No Mind" and "Stranger in My Hometown" come very close -- but how often does (or can) one get three records like that coming out of one place and one set of sessions? [Back in Memphis has appeared as a limited-edition audiophile reissue from Japan. Like From Elvis in Memphis, everything on it and a lot more was compiled on the double-CD Suspicious Minds, but LP fans, Elvis completists, and any other interested parties would have to look long and hard to find better albums from 1970 (or any other year) by anyone else.]© Bruce Eder /TiVo

Ol' Waylon was released when Waylon Jennings had become a superstar. Outlaw was still popular, perhaps at its peak, but it was no longer the movement that it had been just a few short years before. As if offering proof, Waylon cut his most formulaic album since the early '60s, a record that satisfied the demands of outlaw without ever stretching them. Since this was recorded at a near-peak of not only his popularity but his power, there are some great moments on Ol' Waylon, particularly on the lead single "Luckenbach, Texas (Back to the Basics of Love)," a wonderful reminiscence of times back, "If You See Me Getting Smaller," and "I Think I'm Gonna Kill Myself." The rest of the record is a little formulaic and reliant on covers, sometimes enjoyably (including a version of Kenny Rogers' "Lucille"), sometimes not as much ("Sweet Caroline" was never suited for Waylon's style). Overall, Ol' Waylon is pretty enjoyable, but it winds up feeling a little hollow, as if Jennings was trying to give the audience what it wanted. There are enough good moments to make it worthwhile, not just to the dedicated but for some casual fans enamored of the outlaw years, but it's still an album that gets by more on its style than substance.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Are they still alive? While musicians will always live on through their recordings, it's a question worth asking these days about an increasing number of supernatural performers who continue to release albums long after they're dead. After Jimi Hendrix, the zombie parade is led by Elvis Presley, who has now released many more albums dead than he ever did while breathing. Most of Elvis' "new" albums have been the work of producer Ernst Mikael Jørgensen who has made plumbing the depths of Presley's catalog his life's work. His latest idea is to release raw session tapes—takes of the entire band playing together before any subsequent overdubs or sweetening were added. After 2020's Elvis in Nashville box set covered Presley's 1970 sessions in Music City, this new five-volume collection documents the sessions that were held a year later in the same studio with the same band. Held in March, May, and June 1971, these were Presley's last sessions in Nashville's RCA Studio B, the site of many of his greatest recordings. Produced by Felton Jarvis and engineered by Al Pachucki, the famous resonance of that room can be heard throughout. In a sign that perhaps the bottom of the Elvis barrel is now in sight, there are only four unreleased takes of previously released songs here out of 82 total tracks. By all accounts, the '71 sessions were not the equal of what had occurred the year prior. Presley's life had by then begun to spin out of control: his marriage was on the rocks, his addiction to pills had grown worse and most disheartening of all, his interest in his once shining musical career—one that had long since been passed by current musical trends and stars—was diminishing. The priorities for the record label and Colonel Parker for these sessions were a Christmas album and a religious/gospel album, both of which his label RCA knew how to sell. Elvis, however, had other ideas, toying with the idea of a folk/country album á la Kris Kristofferson. The March sessions began in that direction with unremarkable takes of tunes by Ewan MacColl, Gordon Lightfoot and the traditional "Amazing Grace" which was then a current hit for Judy Collins. Returning in May, moving takes of Kristofferson's "Help Me Make It Through the Night" and Buffy Sainte-Marie's "Until It's Time for You to Go," were tracked—both would eventually become highlights of Presley's later years. Rather than more discipline and productivity, Presley's idea of recording was becoming more chaotic. Sessions now turned on whatever he felt like singing, including gospel favorites, Bob Dylan songs, his early rock and roll hits and even tunes by The Beatles who he famously snubbed. Impromptu between-song jams on tunes like "Johnny B. Goode" and "Lady Madonna" are evidence that at times he was still enjoying himself even if the overall results were less than stellar. His record label would take whatever it could get on tape and fashion albums out of it. Whatever the attributes of Elvis's vocal takes (most are good, not great), one of the indisputable strengths is the rhythm section of Jerry Carrigan on drums, Norbert Putnam on bass, and David Briggs on piano, all of them veterans of the Muscle Shoals recording scene, along with guitarists Chip Young and James Burton. The May sessions, among the last truly productive recording sessions of Presley's career, include a trio of gospel songs of just him at the piano singing—two by his hero, Ivory Joe Hunter, and a rousing if overwrought take of a tune he knew from childhood, "I'll Take You Home Again Kathleen"—that show the passion he could still bring to bear in his vocals. Still pondering the idea of a folk album, several takes of "Padre," another Elvis favorite, are sappy but moving. That's followed by another pop number and this set's best track, "I'm Leavin'" with Elvis singing wordless "la-la-la" vocal accents with a haunted vibrato. The rest of the May sessions were taken up by material for what became the Grammy winning religious album, He Touched Me, which Presley, with help from the Nashville Edition vocal group, delivers with his usual dramatic vocal fervor. Despite the presence of a decorated Christmas tree in the studio to foster a holiday mood, the Christmas album came harder—after all it was May! "Silver Bells, for example, sounds rushed. While nearly all the Christmas tracks are released takes from the eventual album, Elvis Sings the Wonderful World of Christmas, the rock and roll rave up at the end of "Winter Wonderland" is still a welcome touch and an unedited take of Charles Brown's "Merry Christmas Baby" with its funky, fuzzy bass part has an undeniable groove. Undubbed and unpolished, this is more proof of the genius that lingered until the end. © Robert Baird/Qobuz

Thank You Charlie Christian pays homage to the legendary jazz guitarist in a manner most appropriate to an innovator of his stature -- rather than merely imitate that which is inimitable, Herb Ellis channels the imagination and expressiveness of his hero to create a lean, mean sound far more forward-thinking than nostalgic. Like Christian, Ellis favors feeling over flash and economy over excess -- paired here with pianist Frank Strazzari, bassist Chuck Berghofer, cellist Harry Babasin and drummer Kenny Hume, he creates a series of compact and determinedly contemporary bop snapshots in vivid Technicolor, not the black-and-white of a bygone era. A beautiful and heartfelt record that draws from the past but refuses to live in it.© Jason Ankeny /TiVo

1969 marked a turning point in the eventful life of the Elvis Presley, the King of Rock. While John Lennon stated that “without Elvis, there would be no Beatles”, the King was no longer at the forefront of rock’n’roll in 60s America where the Fab Four reigned supreme along with the Stones, Bob Dylan, the Beach Boys et al… However, in December 1968, Elvis was back. In a one-man show broadcast on NBC, the King resurfaced classier than ever sporting a black skin-tight leather coat and surrounded by faithful musicians and friends from his career’s beginnings, headed by D.J. Fontana and Scotty Moore. On the show, Presley performed refined and exquisite renditions of some debut tracks, singing incredibly well while daring to incorporate a little self-deprecation. The following year, Elvis rode the wave of this Comeback Special and decided to record new songs with a more contemporary sound. In January 1969, he entered the studio with Chips Moman and released fantastic tracks such as Suspicious Minds, In the Ghetto, Don’t Cry Daddy, Long Black Limousine, Inherit the Wind, Rubberneckin, and Without Love… Such were the sessions that produced the two final opuses from the King: From Elvis in Memphis and From Memphis to Vegas/From Vegas to Memphis, which were released in 1969. As indicated in its title, American Sound 1969 deals vigorously with this magical time in Elvis’ career. A copious quintuple album of 90 tracks mixing studio masters with demos, rehearsals, rarities and some unedited material from sessions in Chips Moman’s American Sound studios. It was Moman who had the idea of returning Elvis to soul, country and blues. The King proves with this record that his talent for interpreting was still intact despite the fact he hadn’t released a hit since 1965 and was somewhat displaced by the upcoming generation. This massive offering released in August 2019 is of course tailored for Elvis buffs (it includes nine version of In the Ghetto and seven of You’ll Think of Me!) who will delight in witnessing the step by step conception of such marvelous, sometimes deeply moving songs. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

Looking back on it, it's remarkable that Warner didn't sue Elvis Costello for making deliberately noncommercial, non-representative records, the way Geffen did with Neil Young in the '80s. After all, it's not just that he made a record as anti-pop as Mighty Like a Rose, it's that he followed it with a full-fledged classical album, The Juliet Letters -- "a song sequence for string quartet and voice," recorded with the Brodsky Quartet. It's inspired by a Verona professor who responded to letters addressed to Juliet, of Romeo and Juliet fame, too. Given this history, it's little wonder that the record didn't storm the charts, but it is remarkable that Warner, even with their reputation for being an artist's label, decided to release it, since this just doesn't fit anywhere -- not within pop (especially in the grunge-saturated 1993) and not within classical, either. Of course, that's precisely what's interesting about the record, and if interesting didn't signify any rewards with Mighty, it does here. This is a distinctive, unusual affair that, at its best, effectively marries chamber music with Beatlesque art pop. And there are a number of moments that work remarkably well on the record, such as "I Almost Had a Weakness" and "Jacksons, Monk and Rowe." True, these are the songs closest to straight-ahead Costello songs, yet they're still nice, small gems, and even if the rest of the record can be a little arch and awkward, it's not hard to admire what Costello and the Brodskys set out to do. And that's the problem with the record -- it's easy to intellectualize, even appreciate, what it intends to be, but it's never compelling enough to return to. More experiment than effective, then.[The Juliet Letters was the last of Elvis Costello's albums from 1977 to 1996 to receive an expanded double-disc treatment in Rhino's extended reissue campaign, finally appearing on its own in March 2006. Given the unusual collaborative nature of the project, there wasn't as much unreleased music and rarities as there were for other Costello albums, so this second disc winds up as a clearing-house for highlights from Costello's art projects of the '90s. Eight of the 18 tracks date from the Meltdown, there are the three non-LP songs from the 1993 promotional EP Live at New York Town Hall: Jerome Kern's "They Didn't Believe Me," Tom Waits' "More Than Rain," and Brian Wilson's "God Only Knows." Also included is "She Moved Through the Fair," a Costello-sung traditional folk tune that appeared on the Brodsky Quartet's 1994 album Lament, and another Costello/Brodsky collaboration on "Lost in the Stars," plucked from the 1997 tribute album September Songs: The Music of Kurt Weill, plus three parts of "Fire Suite" that were recorded with the Jazz Passengers and released originally on Roy Nathanson's 2000 LP Fire at Keaton's Bar & Grill. Considering the variety of sources, spanning the better part of the decade, it's not a big surprise that this disc isn't particularly cohesive -- particularly in comparison to its parent disc -- but there's a good batch of interesting music here. Not always good -- the version of "God Only Knows" is awkward, for instance -- but even the stumbles are worthwhile listening for those who appreciate The Juliet Letters, and the best of this, like "Fire Suite," is quietly sublime.]© TiVo