The Official Archive Series, Vol. 2 captures Status Quo on their Quo Festive tour at London's O2 in December 2012. Featuring the lineup of Francis Rossi, Rick Parfitt, Andrew Bown, John Edwards, and Matt Letley, the set saw the band work through a barrage of classic Quo hits while also performing a medley of Christmas-themed songs, including "Walking in a Winter Wonderland" and "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree."© Rich Wilson /TiVo

Lou Reed, for Gen X at least, was the weird, slightly estranged uncle who could recite French poetry from memory while doing knife tricks with a personalized switchblade. When he came around, things could be exciting and a little uncomfortable, and even though you've never really known him very well, his legend loomed large. New York changed that. It was the first Lou Reed album that Gen X could justifiably claim as their own; released in early 1989, it was really more of a '90s album as it definitively put the '80s in the rearview. The bite of Lou Reed's lyrics was nothing new of course, but the generation coming of age in the late '80s had never had a new Lou album to attach themselves to; New York was released three years after the old-fart-trying-new-things vibes of Mistrial and more than eight years after The Blue Mask, the last Reed album to completely abandon "contemporary" sounds in favor of back-to-basics musicianship, crisp production, and strong, unforgiving lyrics that spoke directly to the spiritual affinities of a cynical generation. From the first notes of "Romeo Had Juliette," Reed's sonic mission was clear: By stripping his band down to two guitars, an electric upright bass, and a simple drum kit (played by co-producer Fred Maher and occasionally augmented with percussion by Mo Tucker), the attention was to be focused on the lyrics. Delivering a clear-eyed assessment of how devastating the '80s had been to the city he was so closely associated with, the lyrics on New York drop the listener into a city that is ravaged by AIDS, proto-gentrification, rampant inequality, and the "Statue of Bigotry," but still in touch with its expansive, egalitarian, no-B.S. heart. While today's ears may flinch at some of the lyrics ("spic" and "homeboys" particularly bristle), ears then flinched too. Reed knew what he was doing by writing plain-spoken and deceptively straightforward verses; by not mincing words and speaking like a "real" New Yorker (as if he had a choice), his astute observational skills and unassailable connection to the city give him both personal and poetic license to tell the intricate, intimate, and intense stories throughout New York. It's debatable whether New York actually needed a remastering—its sharp-edged mix was perfectly suited to a late '80s CD master and already was given plenty of air to breathe by the spare arrangements—but this new mastering does open up the album a bit more, mitigating some of the CD-era sheen while not muting any of Reed's slicing guitar work. The unreleased tracks are a similarly mixed bag, as the material is in various states of completion. "Dirty Blvd," for instance is presented in both a "work tape" that is little more than a riff memo as well as a "rough mix" that presents a meatier, more substantial version than the final album version that manages to somehow put Reed's voice even more in the listener's face. Meanwhile, non-LP track "The Room" is a disappointing, all-guitar instrumental piece that's out of context on such a lyrical album; it winds up sounding like leftover material used in the dissonant coda of "There Is No Time." The live material sounds like one of the all-New York sets that Reed performed around this time, but it is in fact culled from multiple concerts. While completists may balk at this, the final result is a quite strong collection of live performances. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

Following Academy Award nominations for Carol (2015) and Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (2017), composer Carter Burwell picked up his third nomination for The Banshees of Inisherin (2022), a film by Three Billboards writer/director Martin McDonaugh. Conceived as a dark fairy tale in the fashion of the Brothers Grimm, The Banshees of Inisherin's score was built with a spare palette featuring instruments like the harp, bass flute, glockenspiel, celesta, and marimba featured on the traipsing motif associated with main character Padraic (played by Colin Farrell), said by Burwell to reflect his "man-child" qualities. This can be heard on tracks like "Padraic Wakes - Driving into the Rain" and "Padraic Keeps Quiet" as well the more off-kilter, carnivalesque "Padraic and Jenny" (Jenny being his donkey). While instrumentation is light and most of the tracks serve as short, transitional musical interludes, melodies are quite melancholy and sometimes outright ominous, with harmonic structures consistent in suggesting that something is not quite right. Although the score is nothing if not efficient, relatively lusher moments here include "The Island Comes to Church," which includes a string ensemble. While barren and monotone, the rumbling bassline of the later-arriving "Dark Padraic" is effectively disturbing in its timbral contrast to the rest. Consisting of 33 minutes of original music, Burwell's score recording doesn't include fiddle pieces by Padraic's scourge, Colm (portrayed by Brendan Gleeson), which were provided by Gleeson. © Marcy Donelson /TiVo

The 18th Letter/The Book of Life set is an excellent collection of material that succinctly outlines the career of the well-known, highly respected, and deft lyricist Rakim. The first disc, also released alone as The 18th Letter, was released in late 1997 after a four-year period of inactivity and features 12 tracks of previously unreleased material. The collection of producers on this album shows Rakim's ability to change his lyrical and vocal style so as not to bore the listener, but at the same time maintain a consistent and dependable level of creativity and ingenuity. The two R&B-tinged tracks, "Stay a While" and "Show Me Love," represent two instances where R&B and hip-hop successfully merge without too much sugarcoating or hazy outlines. "The Mystery (Who Is God?)" is a serious lyrical synopsis of Rakim's spiritual beliefs and social commentary; still in the relaxed but intense style of delivery that Rakim is known for are "Guess Who's Back" and "New York (Ya Out There)," among other songs. No track on The 18th Letter stands out more than another, because each is strong in content and rhythmically powerful. The second disc in this set is a collection of popular songs from the four albums Rakim had released as one-half of a rapper-DJ duo with DJ Eric B.: Paid in Full, Follow the Leader, Let the Rhythm Hit 'Em, and Don't Sweat the Technique. Also included in the songs on this disc is "Know the Ledge," an edgy, up-tempo declaration of rhyming skill from the Juice soundtrack that provided a brief dose of Rakim during his hiatus after Let the Rhythm Hit 'Em. Including titles such as "I Know You Got Soul," "Microphone Fiend," "My Melody," "Move the Crowd," "Mahogany," and "Paid in Full," the second disc (known as The Book of Life) is an ideal introduction to the impressive past of Rakim as a lyricist.© Qa'id Jacobs /TiVo

There are few comprehensive, elaborately packaged box sets that actually warrant the price they command, but this 18-disc set by the late songwriter and guitarist John Martyn is one of them. The 17 audio discs contain every album he cut for the label, from his first solo recordings to his duet albums with first wife, Beverly, and all the steps in between until 1987's original version of The Apprentice, which sees first light here. (Chris Blackwell, Island's label boss, refused to release the album, claiming it wasn't the proper direction for him. Martyn took this as an invitation to piss off and declined to renew his contract. He self-financed a re-recording then released it himself in 1990.) There is also a DVD in the package. It includes four Old Grey Whistle Test appearances between 1973 and 1978, the complete Foundations concert -- as well as outtakes from it -- and an appearance on A Little Night Music in 1981. The 17 audio discs include beautifully remastered editions of each album, and dozens of unreleased, alternate, and outtake tracks. Some of the live material really rates highly in this box's treasure-trove department; in particular, there are two gigs: Live at the Hanging Lamp from 1972 on disc five, which took place between Bless the Weather and Solid Air, and disc ten's Live at Town Hall in Sydney, dating from 1977 between Sunday's Child and One World. For those who purchased the double-disc deluxe editions of his catalog records, the second discs are included here, so you may want to take that into consideration. That said, those who purchased 2008's Ain't No Saint -- prepared with full participation by Martyn just five months before his death -- will find little duplication here when it comes to scale. In addition to the music and video, the package itself is so utterly handsome it's almost an artistic fetish object. There are three 12"x12" gatefold sleeves inside a hard, thick, gorgeous cardboard slipcase. Two of these include the 17 audio discs, while the third contains the DVD and various ephemera: there are reproduced handbills, a tour souvenir booklet from 1978, press releases, and even a set list replica. It also contains a full-size, hardbound book entitled The John Martyn Album, which includes a family album of photographs from childhood on, a lengthy, in-depth, and authoritative historical liner essay by John Hillarby, more copious and rare photographs, and a scrapbook of press reviews of various concerts and records. Finally, there is a replica poster from the Live at Leeds gig. Ultimately, no matter how heated the exchanges between Martyn and his fans could be during concerts, the respect between audience and performer was total and it was loyal -- the same punters who would complain the loudest would be at the very next show. It is for these people, those who knew his true worth as an artist who The Island Years was created for and will appeal to most.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

"Raveena’s second full-length is framed as a concept album about the adventures of a Punjabi space princess. This loose structure gives the artist room to flex her ambition: Indian percussion and Bollywood references enliven her effervescent R&B."© TiVo

A weighty box set containing one concert in three different formats -- CD, DVD, and 10" vinyl -- The Return of the Spectacular Spinning Songbook!!! gained some notoriety in the week prior to its release when Elvis Costello claimed its “price appears to be either a misprint or a satire.” True, the $262 price tag is steep -- particularly for an album that offers 16 songs on its CD and 19 on its DVD, some overlapped, some not -- but some die-hard fans with deep wallets will surely find the replica of the Spectacular Spinning Songwheel appealing and the musical contents, which are penciled in for a separate affordable release sometime in 2012, are strong. Costello & the Imposters are in high spirits, jumping out of the gate with “I Hope You’re Happy Now” -- a tune whose 1986 vintage dates from the original Spinning Songwheel tour, legendary among Costello fanatics for its loose, unpredictable nature -- then tearing into Nick Lowe’s “Heart of the City,” one of two unexpected covers here (the other being the Rolling Stones’ “Out of Time”). Other pleasant surprises rear their heads -- notably Susanna Hoffs taking lead on “Tear Off Your Own Head (It’s a Doll Revolution),” a song the Bangles recorded after Elvis -- but he still finds time for such staples as “Everyday I Write the Book,” “Watching the Detectives,” “I Want You,” “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding,” and “Radio, Radio,” so it’s not entirely a stroll through the darkest corners of Costello’s past, something that undoubtedly makes that high price tag sting just a little bit more. But disregard the cost of The Return of the Spectacular Spinning Songbook!!! for a moment and focus on the music: it’s an enjoyable set that is absolutely worth the price when it’s available at a lower suggested retail, and for those wealthy Costello fanatics, this big box is a handsome collectable.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

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Tom Petty has been fronting the Heartbreakers off and on (mostly on) for over 30 years now, and he and his band have been delivering a high level of no-frills, classy, and reconstituted American garage rock through all of it. Petty often gets lumped in with artists like Bruce Springsteen, whose careful and worked-over lyrics carry a kind of instant nostalgia, but Petty's songwriting at its best cleverly bounces off of romance clichés, often with a desperate, lustful drawl and sneer, and he’s usually been more concerned with the here and now than he is about musing about what’s been abused and lost in contemporary America, although he's certainly not blind to it. Petty has always been more immediate than that -- until now, that is. Mojo is Petty's umpteenth album, and technically the first he’s done with the Heartbreakers since 2002’s sly The Last DJ. This time out he’s tackling the blues, trying to graft the Heartbreakers' (Mike Campbell on guitar, Scott Thurston on guitar and harmonica, Benmont Tench on keyboards, Ron Blair on bass, and Steve Ferrone on drums) patented 1960s garage sound to the Chicago blues sound of Chess Records in the 1950s. Sonically it certainly works, mostly because this is a wonderful band, but then it all seems a little tired, worn, and exhausted, too, and not a single song here has that certain desperate, determined defiance that Petty has always delivered in the past with a knowing sneer and a little leering wink. The opener, “Jefferson Jericho Blues,” is a case in point. It starts by being a song about Thomas Jefferson’s dalliance with one of his black maids, and it could have been a scathing indictment of an out-of-date Southern attitude, contemporary racism, and so much more. Instead, it tumbles unfocused into, well, a song about missing a girl and how time moves slow, and one can’t help but wonder why Petty dragged Thomas Jefferson and his maid into any of it in the first place. Petty has never sounded so emotionally drained and detached as a vocalist as he does on this album, and while it’s nice to hear the Heartbreakers flirt with the blues -- and to hear Campbell's clear, precise slide guitar playing -- there’s no excuse for not having solid songs to scaffold it. There’s a worn-out, regretful, and boringly meditative tone to so many tracks here -- this is not what one expects from a band that rocks as fine as this one can. Again, the playing is solid, but one wishes Petty & the Heartbreakers had simply covered some of those old Chess classics rather than trying half-heartedly to write their own -- it would have made for an album closer to intent.© Steve Leggett /TiVo

Appearing in Europe and Japan in 2008 and finally seeing American release in 2010, Time & Tide is a coolly relaxed, mature effort from Robbie Dupree. Continuing his collaboration with songwriter David Sancious -- they cut an album together in 2003 -- Dupree eases into a smooth groove that’s considerably jazzier than anything from his early-‘80s heyday. There are echoes of Gaucho-era Steely Dan, particularly given the emphasis on keyboard-driven groove, and Michael McDonald, but this feels distinctively Dupree’s, thanks to the soulful grooves, harmonica flourishes, and focus on his warm conversation vocals. Time & Tide is somewhat out of time -- it’s unconcerned with fashion, it could have been released anywhere from 1988 to 2008 -- but it’s a coolly engaging, smooth jazz-soul record that arguably holds together better than his hit albums from the early ‘80s. © Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo