Off the Wall was a massive success, spawning four Top Ten hits (two of them number ones), but nothing could have prepared Michael Jackson for Thriller. Nobody could have prepared anybody for the success of Thriller, since the magnitude of its success was simply unimaginable -- an album that sold 40 million copies in its initial chart run, with seven of its nine tracks reaching the Top Ten (for the record, the terrific "Baby Be Mine" and the pretty good ballad "The Lady in My Life" are not like the others). This was a record that had something for everybody, building on the basic blueprint of Off the Wall by adding harder funk, hard rock, softer ballads, and smoother soul -- expanding the approach to have something for every audience. That alone would have given the album a good shot at a huge audience, but it also arrived precisely when MTV was reaching its ascendancy, and Jackson helped the network by being not just its first superstar, but first black star as much as the network helped him. This all would have made it a success (and its success, in turn, served as a new standard for success), but it stayed on the charts, turning out singles, for nearly two years because it was really, really good. True, it wasn't as tight as Off the Wall -- and the ridiculous, late-night house-of-horrors title track is the prime culprit, arriving in the middle of the record and sucking out its momentum -- but those one or two cuts don't detract from a phenomenal set of music. It's calculated, to be sure, but the chutzpah of those calculations (before this, nobody would even have thought to bring in metal virtuoso Eddie Van Halen to play on a disco cut) is outdone by their success. This is where a song as gentle and lovely as "Human Nature" coexists comfortably with the tough, scared "Beat It," the sweet schmaltz of the Paul McCartney duet "The Girl Is Mine," and the frizzy funk of "P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing)." And, although this is an undeniably fun record, the paranoia is already creeping in, manifesting itself in the record's two best songs: "Billie Jean," where a woman claims Michael is the father of her child, and the delirious "Wanna Be Startin' Something," the freshest funk on the album, but the most claustrophobic, scariest track Jackson ever recorded. These give the record its anchor and are part of the reason why the record is more than just a phenomenon. The other reason, of course, is that much of this is just simply great music.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

There are several Michael Jackson greatest-hits compilations out there, each one its own take on what should be the definitive portrait of the gloved one's career. The Ultimate Collection, The Essential Collection (different from the one here), and Number Ones have all surfaced in 2003 and 2004, and HIStory a few years prior. Each one of these collections, while commendable in its attempt to thoroughly document Jackson's accomplishments, has fallen woefully short in one aspect or another. This has finally been rectified with this installment of Sony's outstanding Essential collection. Starting with his campaign with his brothers in the Jackson 5, this two-disc set tours through every important single and every important fan favorite short of including his duet with Paul McCartney on "Say Say Say" (the Beatle does, however, make an appearance here on "The Girl Is Mine"). From Off the Wall to Dangerous, it's all here in one concise package, making it the ideal reference point from which exploration into his deeper catalog can begin. While die-hard fans will already have every single song contained herein and may be weary to purchase another greatest-hits compilation short of a greatest-hits compilation including his backing vocals on Rockwell's "Somebody's Watching Me," this may be the only one fans and casual listeners will ever have to purchase to get their fill of the King of Pop's magic.© Rob Theakston /TiVo

Forty years after its release on the 30th of November 1982, people still name Thriller as one of Michael Jackson’s greatest albums. To mark the occasion, Sony is rolling out the red carpet for the anniversary edition of this masterpiece, including 25 bonus tracks! For this record, which was released in the same year as the Compact Disc, the 24-year-old star once again teamed up with Quincy Jones. The era was also marked by the rise of MTV—which was only a year old at the time—and Michael dreamed of reaching funk lovers as well as rock and pop fans. However, Thriller became what we know it to be because it was essentially a compilation of strong, perfect songs. As Quincy would later say: 'If an album reaches number one, it’s because the songs are perfect to begin with!'Emphasising the role of sound engineer Bruce Swedien and songwriter Rod Temperton, who’d already been involved in Off the Wall, the producer told Rolling Stone magazine in 2009: 'Michael didn’t create Thriller. It takes a team to make an album. He wrote four songs, and sang his ass off, but he didn’t conceive it. That’s not how an album works.' ‘The Girl Is Mine’, the duet with Paul McCartney, was released as a single on the 18th of October 1982, a good month after the album. By joining forces with the ex-Beatles member again, Michael Jackson showed the way. He broke down racial boundaries even further, building bridges between America and Europe and blurring the lines between musical genres. His label, Epic–like everyone involved–knew that this album was going to be unlike anything else the world had ever seen.To link the album to Off The Wall, Thriller is logically opened by ‘Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'’. With its sample of Manu Dibango’s ‘Soul Makossa’ (the Cameroonian saxophonist would only claim royalties in 2008), it was the perfect way to satisfy Michael’s lifelong fans. However, the lyrics were already less smooth than they had been in the past, revealing that the star had hardened up and freed himself from his child-artist image. Of course, the heart of this colossal album is in its three major songs: ‘Thriller’, ’Beat It’ and ‘Billie Jean’. With creaking doors, werewolf screams, a long instrumental intro (Michael’s voice only appears at the one-minute mark) and a monologue by 50s, 60s and 70s horror star Vincent Price, ‘Thriller’ (and its video) remains a pop culture megalith. With a pyrotechnic guitar solo by Eddie Van Halen (who, according to legend, burned out the studio speakers during the recording), ‘Beat It’ is a relentless, ultra-rhythmic rock song, just what Quincy Jones was hoping for since he’d fantasised about placing a song similar to The Knack’s ‘My Sharona’ (1979) at the heart of the album. However, the stand-out track from Thriller, of course, is the record-shattering hit ‘Billie Jean’. This is an excellent reissue of a true masterpiece.© Marc Zisman/Qobuz

During her early career, Kate Bush released albums regularly despite her reputation as a perfectionist in the studio. Her first five were released within seven years. After The Hounds of Love in 1985, however, the breaks between got longer: The Sensual World appeared in 1989 and The Red Shoes in 1993. Then, nothing before Aerial, a double album issued in 2005. It's taken six more years to get The Director's Cut, an album whose material isn't new, though its presentation is. Four of this set's 11 tracks first appeared on The Sensual World, while the other seven come from The Red Shoes. Bush's reasons for re-recording these songs is a mystery. She does have her own world-class recording studio, and given the sounds here, she's kept up with technology. Some of these songs are merely tweaked, and pleasantly so, while others are radically altered. The two most glaring examples are "Flower of the Mountain" (previously known as "The Sensual World") and "This Woman's Work." The former intended to use Molly Bloom's soliloquy from James Joyce's novel Ulysses as its lyric; Bush was refused permission by his estate. That decision was eventually reversed; hence she re-recorded the originally intended lyrics. And while the arrangement is similar, there are added layers of synth and percussion. Her voice is absent the wails and hiccupy gasps of her youthful incarnation. These have been replaced by somewhat huskier, even more luxuriant and elegant tones. On the latter song, the arrangement of a full band and Michael Nyman's strings are replaced by a sparse, reverbed electric piano which pans between speakers. This skeletal arrangement frames Bush's more prominent vocal which has grown into these lyrics and inhabits them in full: their regrets, disappointments, and heartbreaks with real acceptance. She lets that voice rip on "Lilly," supported by a tougher, punchier bassline, skittering guitar efx, and a hypnotic drum loop. Bush's son Bertie makes an appearance as the voice of the computer (with Auto-Tune) on "Deeper Understanding." On "RubberBand Girl," Bush pays homage to the Rolling Stones' opening riff from "Street Fighting Man" in all its garagey glory (which one suspects was always there and has now been uncovered). The experience of The Director's Cut, encountering all this familiar material in its new dressing, is more than occasionally unsettling, but simultaneously, it is deeply engaging and satisfying.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

Far from the retreat implied in its title, The Woods is another passionate statement from Sleater-Kinney, equally inspired by the call-to-arms of their previous album, One Beat, and the give-and-take of their live sets, particularly their supporting slot on Pearl Jam's 2003 tour. Throughout their career, the band has found ways to refine and elaborate on the fiery spirit that makes them so distinctive without diminishing it. The Woods is no exception -- it may be Sleater-Kinney's most mature and experimental album to date, but unlike most mature and experimental albums released by bands entering their second decade, it doesn't forget to rock like a beast. The album's opening salvo, "The Fox," is shockingly feral, an onslaught of heavy, angry, spiralling guitars, ridiculously loud drums, and Corin Tucker's inimitable, love-them-or-hate-them vocals. It's so crushingly dense that it's hard to believe it came from Dave Fridmann's studio; reportedly, The Woods' sessions were challenging for band and producer alike, but from the results, it's clear that they pushed each other to make some of the best work of both of their careers. Though it may be hard to believe, at first, that this is a Fridmann-produced album, his contributions become a little clearer on tracks like the dysfunctional domesticity of "Wilderness," which has the depth and spaciousness usually associated with his work. However, it's easy enough to hear that The Woods is quintessential Sleater-Kinney. This may be the band's most self-assured sounding work yet -- their music has never lacked confidence and daring, but now they sound downright swaggering: "What's Mine Is Yours" is a subversive nod to Led Zeppelin and also captures Sleater-Kinney's own formidable power as a live act. Tucker's voice and viewpoints are as thoughtful and fierce as ever, and as usual, she's even better when aided and abetted by Carrie Brownstein's harmonies, as on "Jumpers." Capturing both the deeply depressing and liberating sides of suicide, the song moves from moody almost-pop to an intense but still melodic assault; unlike so many bands, Sleater-Kinney can go back and forth between several ideas within one song and never sound forced or muddled. A martial feeling runs through The Woods, but unlike the more overtly political One Beat, dissent is a more of an overall state of mind here. The more literal songs falter a bit, but "Modern Girl" is saved by its sharp lyrics ("I took my money and bought a donut/The hole's the size of the entire world"), while Tucker and Brownstein's dueling vocals and Janet Weiss' huge drums elevate "Entertain" above its easy targets of retro rock and reality TV. However, the songs about floundering or complicated relationships draw blood: "Rollercoaster," an extended food and fairground metaphor for an up-and-down long-term relationship with tough-girl backing vocals and an insistent cowbell driving it along, is as insightful as it is fun and witty. The unrepentantly sexy "Let's Call It Love" is another standout, comparing love to a boxing match (complete with bells ringing off the rounds) and a game of poker. At 11 minutes long, the song might be indulgent (especially by Sleater-Kinney's usually economic standards), but its ebbs and flows and well-earned guitar solos underscore the feeling that the band made The Woods for nobody but themselves. It flows seamlessly into "Night Light," an equally spooky and hopeful song that offers promise, but no easy answers -- a fitting end to an album that often feels more engaged in struggle than the outcome of it. One thing is clear, though: Sleater-Kinney remain true to their ideals, and after all this time, they still find smart, gripping ways of articulating them.© Heather Phares /TiVo

With the LP work of Pink Floyd (2003's Dub Side of the Moon), Radiohead (2006's Radiodread), and the Beatles (2009's Easy Star's Lonely Hearts Dub Band) already in their past, the Jamaican/American studio band known as Easy Star All-Stars were coming upon a decade of classic album tributes with this reggae redo of Michael Jackson's Thriller, but there's plenty of life left in this formula. After taking a break from the concept with 2011's First Light -- their first full-length album of original songs -- they've returned with a new attitude, attacking the opening favorite "Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'" with a double shotgun blast of joy and Afro-pop, as if Fela returned to be crowned the king of post-disco. It's an instant, unique party, but that familiar Easy Star island flavor returns with the following "Baby Be Mine," a reggae-meets-R&B take with touches of Earth, Wind & Fire and Justin Timberlake, and also a sequential clue that Thrillah covers Thriller in order. Brilliant how the gravelly voice and deep patois accent of Spragga Benz replaces Vincent Price's "rap" during the monumental "Thriller" itself, and interesting how the too cool "Beat It" becomes ominous and dark when played midtempo and with Black Uhuru's Michael Rose as its streetwise teacher. With devout Rastafarian Luciano on the mike, "Billie Jean" is played as a funky techno caution with Biblical verses in the mix, while Cas Haley travels to Margaritaville with his suitably smooth and sweet caressing of "Human Nature." Reggae-disco, cowbells, and in-house singer Kirsty Rock give "P.Y.T." the proper amount of flash, before a dubby version of "The Lady in My Life" and two actual dubs put a wrap on this diverse, fun, and very welcome return to form.© David Jeffries /TiVo

Echoes is a repackaging of Gene Clark's debut album, Gene Clark With the Gosdin Brothers. The Byrds comparison is really unavoidable: it's both Clark's best solo work and, not coincidentally, the one which resembles the Byrds most strongly. Indeed, this could easily pass for a somewhat less-than-average vintage Byrds album, with actual Byrds Chris Hillman and Michael Clarke forming the rhythm section and Vern and Rex Gosdin on guitar (hence the title). To be brutal, it doesn't measure up to Clark's best songs from his Byrds days, but it's fairly strong, melodic '60s folk-rock nonetheless, perhaps with a bit of a more countrified, laid-back, generic feel. "So You Say You Lost Your Baby," "Echoes," and especially "Tried So Hard" are standouts. The Echoes CD adds three interesting previously unreleased outtakes from the era, as well as six of the best early Byrds songs graced by Clark's songwriting and vocals.© Richie Unterberger /TiVo

The first rule of house music is functionality, and celebrated French DJ David Guetta is a master of dancefloor pragmatics. The second rule is hooks, and he's got those as well -- in fact, his music is unusually interesting for the genre and generally as much fun to listen to as it is to dance to. His second album is being released in the U.S. on the heels of significant success in his home country, and for its Stateside release is enhanced by the addition of several bonus tracks including his hit "Love Don't Let Me Go" (in a mash-up mix by the Egg). The guest vocalist on seven tracks is the golden-throated Chris Willis, and other featured guests include the Stereo MC's (on the dark and almost industrial-sounding "Open Your Eyes") and Jamaican vocalist Miss Thing (on the weird but ultimately rather uninteresting "Last Train"). Willis is responsible for most of the album's highlight tracks, including the downright funky "Stay," the brilliant "Love Don't Let Me Go" (which is more than slightly evocative of Erasure at their best) and "Just a Little More Love," another massive French hit that is a welcome addition to the U.S. version of this release. The punk-kitsch sound of "Money" is curious but fun, and Paul Oakenfold's mix of "The World Is Mine" ends things on a powerfully funky note. Highly recommended.© Rick Anderson /TiVo

Far from the retreat implied in its title, The Woods is another passionate statement from Sleater-Kinney, equally inspired by the call-to-arms of their previous album, One Beat, and the give-and-take of their live sets, particularly their supporting slot on Pearl Jam's 2003 tour. Throughout their career, the band has found ways to refine and elaborate on the fiery spirit that makes them so distinctive without diminishing it. The Woods is no exception -- it may be Sleater-Kinney's most mature and experimental album to date, but unlike most mature and experimental albums released by bands entering their second decade, it doesn't forget to rock like a beast. The album's opening salvo, "The Fox," is shockingly feral, an onslaught of heavy, angry, spiralling guitars, ridiculously loud drums, and Corin Tucker's inimitable, love-them-or-hate-them vocals. It's so crushingly dense that it's hard to believe it came from Dave Fridmann's studio; reportedly, The Woods' sessions were challenging for band and producer alike, but from the results, it's clear that they pushed each other to make some of the best work of both of their careers. Though it may be hard to believe, at first, that this is a Fridmann-produced album, his contributions become a little clearer on tracks like the dysfunctional domesticity of "Wilderness," which has the depth and spaciousness usually associated with his work. However, it's easy enough to hear that The Woods is quintessential Sleater-Kinney. This may be the band's most self-assured sounding work yet -- their music has never lacked confidence and daring, but now they sound downright swaggering: "What's Mine Is Yours" is a subversive nod to Led Zeppelin and also captures Sleater-Kinney's own formidable power as a live act. Tucker's voice and viewpoints are as thoughtful and fierce as ever, and as usual, she's even better when aided and abetted by Carrie Brownstein's harmonies, as on "Jumpers." Capturing both the deeply depressing and liberating sides of suicide, the song moves from moody almost-pop to an intense but still melodic assault; unlike so many bands, Sleater-Kinney can go back and forth between several ideas within one song and never sound forced or muddled. A martial feeling runs through The Woods, but unlike the more overtly political One Beat, dissent is a more of an overall state of mind here. The more literal songs falter a bit, but "Modern Girl" is saved by its sharp lyrics ("I took my money and bought a donut/The hole's the size of the entire world"), while Tucker and Brownstein's dueling vocals and Janet Weiss' huge drums elevate "Entertain" above its easy targets of retro rock and reality TV. However, the songs about floundering or complicated relationships draw blood: "Rollercoaster," an extended food and fairground metaphor for an up-and-down long-term relationship with tough-girl backing vocals and an insistent cowbell driving it along, is as insightful as it is fun and witty. The unrepentantly sexy "Let's Call It Love" is another standout, comparing love to a boxing match (complete with bells ringing off the rounds) and a game of poker. At 11 minutes long, the song might be indulgent (especially by Sleater-Kinney's usually economic standards), but its ebbs and flows and well-earned guitar solos underscore the feeling that the band made The Woods for nobody but themselves. It flows seamlessly into "Night Light," an equally spooky and hopeful song that offers promise, but no easy answers -- a fitting end to an album that often feels more engaged in struggle than the outcome of it. One thing is clear, though: Sleater-Kinney remain true to their ideals, and after all this time, they still find smart, gripping ways of articulating them.© Heather Phares /TiVo

Although his recording career only lasted five years, from 1962 through 1967 (seven studio albums in all), with his biggest hits coming in the last two years of that time, and his only number one, "(Sittin' On) The Dock of the Bay," after his death, Otis Redding is still widely considered the greatest performer of the classic soul era, a designation he undoubtedly deserves. A dynamic performer and a more than competent songwriter ("Dock of the Bay," for instance, is a Redding original), he brought the energy and directness of gospel into the secular world with a fervor and passion that made his songs, and particularly his live versions of them, into gritty sermons on the joy, loss, pain, and yearning that attends being in love. It helped, too, that his backing outfit on most of his tracks was the great Stax Records house band the MG's, who knew how to punch in and stomp it and also when to lay back in a quiet storm behind him, and the band and Redding together were an unstoppable force. There have been plenty of Redding compilations over the years, with this one, The King of Soul, being yet another one, but it is distinctive for its breadth, tracking the arc of Redding's career through 92 tracks arranged chronologically over four discs, and because it also, particularly when covering the early years, includes mono mixes, which often carried more tightly focused punch than the stereo ones. Appearing during the 50th anniversary year of the release of Redding's debut album, Pain in My Heart, this set tells the story of the King of Soul as well as any other compilation out there. Everything essential is here, and with Otis Redding, it's pretty much all essential. He was that kind of artist.© Steve Leggett /TiVo

If calling oneself Richard Cheese and offering lounge versions of contemporary popular songs strikes one as funny, that's probably because it's supposed to be. In a sense, Cheese, along with bandmembers with last names like Gouda and Brie, is an extended joke, and Aperitif for Destruction is a sophisticated version of Pat Boone's In a Metal Mood. While Cheese's taste in music occasionally crosses with Boone's (both cover Guns N' Roses; and both cover "Enter Sandman"), he prefers more scandalous material, opening Aperitif with 2 Live Crew's "Me So Horny" and Slipknot's "People Equal S***." Lounge style, these songs are both tuneful and totally absurd, a mixture of bad taste performed in a tacky style. The problem with Aperitif for Destruction, though, is that it's a one-note joke best taken one song at a time. Cheese does attempt to move beyond the collection's surface quality on occasion, but these attempts never quite bloom into full ideas. On "Enter Sandman," for instance, '50s background vocals draw a link between the song and "Mr. Sandman," but the odd mixture is more quirky than funny, and never really melds. A song or two from Aperitif will probably liven up a slow moving party or give one's friends a good belly laugh, but taken as a whole, it begins to sound a lot like what it makes fun of.© Ronnie D. Lankford, Jr. /TiVo

Cracker's third album, The Golden Age, was uneven, but it also suffered from bad timing: when it was released in the spring of 1996, the bottom had just fallen out of alternative guitar rock, and Cracker was left without the large audience that made their first two albums hits. Realizing this conundrum, and approaching middle age, frontman David Lowery decided to stop trying to score modern rock hits and simply play for Cracker's fourth album, Gentleman's Blues. Picking up musical cues from Kerosene Hat and the quieter moments of The Golden Age, Lowery and his partner, Johnny Hickman, fall back to their beloved '70s album rock, mixing up blues-rock, hard rock, Southern rock, and Dead-like jams. Apart from Lowery's characteristically quirky, absurdist lyrics, Gentleman's Blues sounds as if it could have been recorded in the early '70s. It does sound as if they no longer care about being contemporary, but their easy charm and shambling delivery are so appealing, it doesn't matter if the album is indeed a retreat. Beneath the surface, however, there's a certain weariness unheard of in earlier Cracker albums. Many of Lowery's songs, such as "Seven Days," have a bitterness that's barely masked by his irony and songcraft. It may be a shock to discover those sentiments lurking behind these appealing songs, but that's what makes Gentleman's Blues worth repeated listens.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Taking their cue from dance-driven '80s bands like Depeche Mode and Duran Duran, London's White Rose Movement apes the best aspects of their predecessors, reveling in edgy dance-punk riffs and swaggering vocals laced with gyrating synth beats. Unlike their peers in Franz Ferdinand, the Rakes, and Bloc Party, however, White Rose Movement's debut never really found ground in the States despite its arguably better quality of songs. U.K. singles "Girls in the Back," a sharp, speedy number with a hooky chorus, and "Love Is a Number," a layered, synth-based track with echoing vocals, is immediately memorable, reverberating with more attitude than all the previously mentioned bands put together. "Cruella" is the album's real standout, buried at the end of the disc, and led by an aggressive, propulsive beat and singer Finn Vine's strutting hoot as he hollers about the notorious 101 Dalmatians villain. It's regrettable that no U.S. labels picked up on White Rose Movement before they were lost in the shuffle of British '80s revival bands, particularly after they played several festivals in the States supporting this album, but with any luck their next release won't suffer the same fate.© Emily Zemler /TiVo