Out of the Blue may not have been Electric Light Orchestra's best album (that would be its immediate predecessor, the taut and driving New World Record), but it was absolutely their most-est album. Coming off the creative, critical, and commercial breakthrough of New World Record, ELO's Jeff Lynne clearly felt at the height of his powers, and for Out of the Blue, he delivered a trifecta of "overconfident '70s rocker" signifiers: 1) a double album that 2) featured a side-long "song suite" and 3) a shocking amount of novelty numbers and instrumentals. And while it may not have been surprising that Out of the Blue was hugely successful—it went multi-platinum on the backs of some of the band's most memorable hits, including the now-immortal "Mr. Blue Sky"—it is remarkable how well the material holds up decades later. Lynne's unabashed Beatles-worship gets a robust airing, but it's here more than any other ELO record that his love of the Fab Four is so artfully fused into everything from prog-rock symphonics, proto-disco rhythms, lush synth-pop, and, er, whale song. It's absolutely pretentious, but in a beguiling and infectious way that winds up making it remarkably personal and highly idiosyncratic. "Turn to Stone" charges out of the gate and sets the tone for the entirety of Out of the Blue, combining rich soundscapes, expansive arrangements, and earworm melodies. The album also features the epic "Concerto for a Rainy Day," a four-part suite that is literally about the weather, featuring "Standin' in the Rain," "Big Wheels," "Summer and Lightning," and concluding with "Mr. Blue Sky," a song that has since become synonymous with ELO's signature sound. Of course, there are some overreaching missteps—the album would be fine without the weird and silly Tarzan effects of "Jungle" and the instrumental burbles of "The Whale" would have been more appropriate as a b-side bonus—but they are more than compensated for by the moments where Lynne's ego pushes him and the band to unexpected greatness. The dizzying mariachi melodrama of "Across the Border" or the dreamy swoon of "Starlight" would have been attempted by few other acts in 1977, and only ELO could deliver them so convincingly.  When it came to radio hits, cuts like "Sweet Talkin' Woman" and even "Wild West Hero" are maddeningly catchy but also supremely weird. Of course, subsequent releases would find diminishing returns by trying to recreate the magic of Out of the Blue, but for this one bold, baroque moment, it seemed that Jeff Lynne and ELO had absolutely defined the future of artful pop-rock. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

Michael Jackson had recorded solo prior to the release of Off the Wall in 1979, but this was his breakthrough, the album that established him as an artist of astonishing talent and a bright star in his own right. This was a visionary album, a record that found a way to break disco wide open into a new world where the beat was undeniable, but not the primary focus -- it was part of a colorful tapestry of lush ballads and strings, smooth soul and pop, soft rock, and alluring funk. Its roots hearken back to the Jacksons' huge mid-'70s hit "Dancing Machine," but this is an enormously fresh record, one that remains vibrant and giddily exciting years after its release. This is certainly due to Jackson's emergence as a blindingly gifted vocalist, equally skilled with overwrought ballads as "She's Out of My Life" as driving dancefloor shakers as "Working Day and Night" and "Get on the Floor," where his asides are as gripping as his delivery on the verses. It's also due to the brilliant songwriting, an intoxicating blend of strong melodies, rhythmic hooks, and indelible construction. Most of all, its success is due to the sound constructed by Jackson and producer Quincy Jones, a dazzling array of disco beats, funk guitars, clean mainstream pop, and unashamed (and therefore affecting) schmaltz that is utterly thrilling in its utter joy. This is highly professional, highly crafted music, and its details are evident, but the overall effect is nothing but pure pleasure. Jackson and Jones expanded this approach on the blockbuster Thriller, often with equally stunning results, but they never bettered it.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Bruce Springsteen's make-or-break third album represented a sonic leap from his first two, which had been made for modest sums at a suburban studio; Born to Run was cut on a superstar budget, mostly at the Record Plant in New York. Springsteen's backup band had changed, with his two virtuoso players, keyboardist David Sancious and drummer Vini Lopez, replaced by the professional but less flashy Roy Bittan and Max Weinberg. The result was a full, highly produced sound that contained elements of Phil Spector's melodramatic work of the 1960s. Layers of guitar, layers of echo on the vocals, lots of keyboards, thunderous drums -- Born to Run had a big sound, and Springsteen wrote big songs to match it. The overall theme of the album was similar to that of The E Street Shuffle; Springsteen was describing, and saying farewell to, a romanticized teenage street life. But where he had been affectionate, even humorous before, he was becoming increasingly bitter. If Springsteen had celebrated his dead-end kids on his first album and viewed them nostalgically on his second, on his third he seemed to despise their failure, perhaps because he was beginning to fear he was trapped himself. Nevertheless, he now felt removed, composing an updated West Side Story with spectacular music that owed more to Bernstein than to Berry. To call Born to Run overblown is to miss the point; Springsteen's precise intention is to blow things up, both in the sense of expanding them to gargantuan size and of exploding them. If The Wild, the Innocent & the E Street Shuffle was an accidental miracle, Born to Run was an intentional masterpiece. It declared its own greatness with songs and a sound that lived up to Springsteen's promise, and though some thought it took itself too seriously, many found that exalting.© William Ruhlmann /TiVo

Anderson .Paak and Bruno Mars discovered a rapport in 2017 when the former, fresh off the release of Malibu, supported the latter on the 24K Magic tour. Mutual admiration and shared affinity for classic R&B predating their births, such as Motown and Philly soul -- and anything else with churning rhythm guitars, electric sitar, and flashy strings -- grew into Silk Sonic. The project was named by another favorite, funk legend Bootsy Collins, who hosts An Evening with Silk Sonic in expected cordial fashion on a handful of intros and featured appearances. The set would have to be left on repeat for at least six rotations to truly fill an evening -- it's only half an hour in length -- but none of the time is wasted. Paak and Mars might have had Teddy Pendergass' women-only concerts in mind as they made some of the ballads. "Leave the Door Open," an unlikely number one pop hit six months before the LP was released, is the number that best meshes the smooth and tender style of Mars with Paak's nephew-of-Bobby Womack rasp and comparatively Lothario-like (sometimes pushy) demeanor. The funkier slow jam "After Last Night" might invite comparisons to "Dick in a Box" but has a bit of Bootsy-style fantasy sleaze with a lyrical theme similar to "The Hunter Gets Captured By the Game." "Put On a Smile" provides more than mere entertainment with one of Mars' finest performances, while "Blast Off" coasts and sways like a 1979 Earth, Wind & Fire derivative. The energy in the uptempo material is all feel-good, too. The strutting "Fly as Me" lets loose a hook that recalls late-'60s/early '70s George Clinton ("[I Wanna] Testify," "I Wanna Know If It's Good to You"). "777," the most arrogant and ballerific cut, is shrewdly followed by the dashing roller disco jam "Skate," a Top 20 hit that preceded the album. The duo's playfulness here verges on hammy at times -- more often than on their solo recordings. The trade-off is that they push each other into new levels of showmanship without pandering to the audience. Besides, there's some genuinely witty stuff here. It's a wonder how Mars was able to keep his face straight while grousing, "Musta spent 35-45 thousand up in Tiffany's/Got her bad-ass kids runnin' round my whole crib like it's Chuck E. Cheese."© Andy Kellman /TiVo

Four albums into her burgeoning career, Kate Bush's The Dreaming is a theatrical and abstract piece of work, as well as Bush's first effort in the production seat. She throws herself in head first, incorporating various vocal loops, sometimes campy, but always romantic and inquisitive of emotion. She's angry and pensive throughout the entire album, typically poetic while pushing around the notions of a male-dominated world. However, Kate Bush is a daydreamer. Unfortunately, The Dreaming, with all it's intricate mystical beauty, isn't fully embraced compared to her later work. Album opener "Sat in Your Lap" is a frightening slight on individual intellect, with a booming chorus echoing over throbbing percussion and a butchered brass section. "Leave It Open" is goth-like with Bush's dark brooding, which is a suspending scale of vocalic laments, but it's the vivacious and moody "Get Out of My House" that truly brings Bush's many talents for art and music to the forefront. It prances with dripping piano drops and gritty guitar, and the violent rage felt as she screams "Slamming," sparking a fury similar to what Tori Amos later ignited during her inception throughout the '90s. Not one to be in fear of fear, The Dreaming is one of Kate Bush's underrated achievements in depicting her own visions of love, relationships, and role play, not to mention a brilliant predecessor to the charming beauty of 1985's Hounds of Love.© MacKenzie Wilson /TiVo

The Band's first album, Music from Big Pink, seemed to come out of nowhere, with its ramshackle musical blend and songs of rural tragedy. The Band, the group's second album, was a more deliberate and even more accomplished effort, partially because the players had become a more cohesive unit, and partially because guitarist Robbie Robertson had taken over the songwriting, writing or co-writing all 12 songs. Though a Canadian, Robertson focused on a series of American archetypes from the union worker in "King Harvest (Has Surely Come)" and the retired sailor in "Rockin' Chair" to, most famously, the Confederate Civil War observer Virgil Cane in "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down." The album effectively mixed the kind of mournful songs that had dominated Music from Big Pink, here including "Whispering Pines" and "When You Awake" (both co-written by Richard Manuel), with rollicking up-tempo numbers like "Rag Mama Rag" and "Up on Cripple Creek" (both sung by Levon Helm and released as singles, with "Up on Cripple Creek" making the Top 40). As had been true of the first album, it was The Band's sound that stood out the most, from Helm's (and occasionally Manuel's) propulsive drumming to Robertson's distinctive guitar fills and the endlessly inventive keyboard textures of Garth Hudson, all topped by the rough, expressive singing of Manuel, Helm, and Rick Danko that mixed leads with harmonies. The arrangements were simultaneously loose and assured, giving the songs a timeless appeal, while the lyrics continued to paint portraits of 19th century rural life (especially Southern life, as references to Tennessee and Virginia made clear), its sometimes less savory aspects treated with warmth and humor.© William Ruhlmann /TiVo

Released in 1973, three years after the separation of The Beatles, this compilation from 1962-1966 (more commonly known as the The Red Album) brings together 26 songs recorded, as indicated by the title, between 1962 and 1966. From Love Me Do (opening track) to Yellow Submarine (closing track), how far the four boys from Liverpool came in that period is quite awe-inspiring. It is especially fascinating to realize, in retrospect, that all of these masterpieces were recorded in just five short years! The artistic evolution that is taking shape here is also stunning: the mischievous and restless debut, the birth of the writing of Lennon/McCartney, the evolution of work in the studio... this double compilation allows you to hear and understand this rather unique period in the history of rock'n'roll and pop. Its blue twin, The Beatles 1967 - 1970, was released simultaneously and is obviously an indispensable companion. ©MZ/Qobuz, Translation/BM

Now in his ninth decade on Earth, John Cale has always been a collaborator. From his earliest and most experimental days working alongside La Monte Young and the complementary-but-challenging creative relationship he had with Lou Reed, on through his post-Velvets work with everyone from Terry Riley and Squeeze to Brian Eno and Danger Mouse, Cale is probably the only artist who worked with both Nick Drake and the Stooges—and absolutely the only one for whom it seems completely natural. Still, as he recently turned 80, it may be understandable for one to look at the lineup of guests on MERCY—crowded as it is with fashionable contemporary-ish artists like Animal Collective, Sylvan Esso, Fat White Family, Weyes Blood, and others—and think that Cale may have decided to lean back and let the cool kids take the wheel for an art-rock take on Santana's Supernatural. Nothing could be further from the truth; this is very much a John Cale album, aligning (as much as a John Cale album can) with its most immediate predecessors. The last decade or so has found Cale working more with noisy, electronic textures, and MERCY bristles with a dark and dissonant futurism. It is—much like FOREVERANDEVERNOMORE, the most recent release from longtime co-conspirator Brian Eno—a deeply pessimistic record, touching on the unique perils of our recent dystopianism as well as the inevitable reckoning with one's mortality. While a couple of solo numbers like "NOISE OF YOU" are gentle and straightforward, Cale is working in a decidedly out-there mode for much of the record, bringing along his collaborators for the ride. Whether utilizing them as faint filigree (Sylvan Esso's voices barely register as an echo in the shadow of Cale's powerful singing on "TIME STANDS STILL") or allowing their eccentricities to tilt the axis of a song's vibe (the way that Animal Collective manage to interpolate the melody of "Video Killed the Radio Star" makes "EVERLASTING DAYS" feel a whole lot less morbid than it actually is), there's a clear two-way street with these interactions. Perhaps the most tantalizing is "MARILYN MONROE'S LEGS (beauty elsewhere)" with Actress, a track that starts out as glitchy, dissociated ambience, only to coalesce into a muscular piece of driving electronic art with Cale's voice barely holding on. Throughout, Cale approaches this work like an artist half his age; he is continually challenging himself (and his listeners and collaborators) with work that's always adventurous, occasionally beautiful, a bit unpleasant at times, but never dull. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

As a film, The Last Waltz was a triumph -- one of the first (and still one of the few) rock concert documentaries that was directed by a filmmaker who understood both the look and the sound of rock & roll, and executed with enough technical craft to capture all the nooks and crannies of a great live show. But as an album, The Last Waltz soundtrack had to compete with the Band's earlier live album, Rock of Ages, with which it bears a certain superficial resemblance -- both found the group trying to create something grander than the standard-issue live double, and both featured the group beefed up by additional musicians. While Rock of Ages found the Band swinging along with the help of a horn section arranged by Allen Toussaint, The Last Waltz boasts a horn section (using Toussaint's earlier arrangements on a few cuts) and more than a baker's dozen guest stars, ranging from old cohorts Ronnie Hawkins and Bob Dylan to contemporaries Joni Mitchell, Neil Young, and Van Morrison. The Band are in fine if not exceptional form here; on most cuts, they don't sound quite as fiery as they did on Rock of Ages, though their performances are never less than expert, and the high points are dazzling, especially an impassioned version of "It Makes No Difference" and blazing readings of "Up on Cripple Creek" and "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down" (Levon Helm has made no secret that he felt breaking up the Band was a bad idea, and here it sounds if he was determined to prove how much they still had to offer). Ultimately, it's the Band's "special guests" who really make this set stand out -- Muddy Waters' ferocious version of "Mannish Boy" would have been a wonder from a man half his age, Van Morrison sounds positively joyous on "Caravan," Neil Young and Joni Mitchell do well for their Canadian brethren, and Bob Dylan's closing set finds him in admirably loose and rollicking form. (One question remains -- what exactly is Neil Diamond doing here?) And while the closing studio-recorded "Last Waltz Suite" sounds like padding, the contributions from Emmylou Harris and the Staple Singers are beautiful indeed. It could be argued that you're better off watching The Last Waltz on video than listening to it on CD, but either way it's a show well worth checking out.© Mark Deming /TiVo

The title Page One is fitting for this disc, as it marks the beginning of the first chapter in the long career of tenor man Joe Henderson. And what a beginning it is; no less than Kenny Dorham, McCoy Tyner, Butch Warren, and Pete La Roca join the saxophonist for a stunning set that includes "Blue Bossa" and "Recorda Me," two works that would be forever associated with Henderson. Both are bossa novas that offer a hip alternative to the easy listening Brazilian trend that would become popular with the masses. Henderson and Dorham make an ideal pair on these and other choice cuts like the blistering "Homestretch" and the engaging swinger "Jinrikisha." These both show the already mature compositional prowess that would become Henderson's trademark throughout his legendary career. The final blues number, "Out of the Night," features powerful work by the leader that only hints of things to come in subsequent chapters.© TiVo

After taking his early urban folk tales of cars and girls as far as he could on Born to Run, Bruce Springsteen took a long, hard look at the lives of those same Jersey street kids a few years down the line, now saddled with adult responsibilities and realizing that the American Dream was increasingly out of their grasp, on 1978's Darkness on the Edge of Town, an album that dramatically broadened Springsteen's musical range and lyrical scope. With 1980's The River, Springsteen sought to expand on those themes while also offering more of the tough, bar-band rock that was his trademark (and often conspicuous in its absence on Darkness), and by the time it was released it had swelled into Springsteen's first two-LP set. The River was Springsteen's most ambitious work to date, even as the music sounded leaner and more strongly rooted in rock & roll tradition than anything on Darkness or Born to Run, and though the album wasn't the least bit short on good times, the fun in songs like "Two Hearts," "Out in the Street," and "Cadillac Ranch" is rarely without some weightier subtext. As the romantic rush of "Two Hearts" fades into the final break with family on "Independence Day" and the sentimentality of "I Wanna Marry You" is followed by the grim truths of the title tune, nothing is easy or without consequence in Springsteen's world, and the album's themes of youthful ideals buckling under the weight of crushing reality are neatly summed up as Springsteen asks the essential question of his career, "Is a dream a lie if it don't come true?" Like many double albums, The River doesn't always balance well, and while the first half is consistently strong, part two is full of songs that work individually but don't cohere into a satisfying whole (and "Wreck on the Highway" is beautiful but fails to resolve the album's essential themes). But if the sequencing is somewhat flawed, Springsteen rises to his own challenges as a songwriter, penning a set of tunes that are heartfelt and literate but unpretentious while rocking hard, and the E Street Band were never used to better advantage, capturing the taut, swaggering force of their live shows in the studio with superb accuracy (and if the very '80s snare crack dates this album, Neil Dorfsman's engineering makes this one of Springsteen's best-sounding works). The River wasn't Springsteen's first attempt to make a truly adult rock & roll album, but it's certainly a major step forward from Darkness on the Edge of Town, and he rarely made an album as compelling as this, or one that rewards repeat listening as well.© Mark Deming /TiVo

Ella Fitzgerald had the ability to personalize some of the most recognizable material from the foremost songwriters in American popular music history. In this instance, the combination of Cole Porter's words and Fitzgerald's interpretation of them created one of the most sought after sessions in vocal history -- embraced by jazz and pop fans alike, transcending boundaries often associated with those genres. Originally released in 1956 on the Verve label, such standards as "Night and Day," "I Love Paris," "What Is This Thing Called Love," "I've Got You Under My Skin," "You're the Top," and "Love for Sale" secured one of Ella Fitzgerald's crowning moments. The success of these early Porter (and previous Gershwin) sessions brought about numerous interpretations of other songbooks throughout the next several years including those of Rodgers and Hart, Duke Ellington, Johnny Mercer, Harold Arlen, and Irving Berlin.© Al Campbell /TiVo

Cheek To Cheek, a surprising discographic encounter between Tony Bennett and Lady Gaga, was one of 2014's more pleasant surprises. The unlikely duo had some fun revisiting the Great American Songbook (Irving Berlin, Cole Porter, Billy Strayhorn, Duke Ellington) with a sense of mischief, playfulness and a certain class. Despite his age, Sinatra's favourite singer proved, at the dawn of his 90s, that he was still an unbeatable crooner. But the biggest surprise was from Lady Gaga and her unique, spot-on timbre, which can excel in other material and not just Poker Face... Seven years on, the two stars, 60 years apart, set off on a second adventure that proved as delicious as the first, this time devoted entirely to the repertoire of Cole Porter. Backed up by a gleaming big band with five-star brass and silky strings, the evergreen Night & Day, Love For Sale and I Get a Kick Out of You have all the charm of old luxury cars, the softness of leather club chairs and the smoothness of velvet. There are no surprises, and no formal revolutions, in this pair's mischievous vocal jousting: just the pleasure of an hour of retro vocal jazz done just right, a passport out of the tumult of the present day. Salutary. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

After Memphis in 2013 and A Fool To Care in 2015, Boz Scaggs concludes his trilogy on American roots music with Out of the Blues. Properly charged with southern blues and soul, here is a preview of the music that has inspired him throughout his career. With − at his side − talents such as Ray Parker, Jr. and Arc Angels’ leaders, Charlie Sexton and Doyle Bramhall II, as well as Willie Weeks (bass), Jim Keltner (drums) and Jim Cox (keyboards). Ideal conditions to bring old blues back to life… Over the nine tracks, four were composed by Jack 'Applejack' Walroth, Scaggs’ former teammate, most notably on Memphis. For the rest, the album features Don Robey’s I’ve Just Got To Forget You, Neil Young’s On The Beach, and Jimmy Read’s Down In Virginia. Boz Scaggs seems to be particularly at ease when it comes to soak in an entire era. Sixties soul is indeed a part of Those Lies, but quite modern at the same time. Some noticeable similarities with James Hunter at times, but the American singer sets himself apart thanks to his unique voice, cementing his status as a bluesman. Gritty guitars and muddy blues, the harmonica riffs unwearyingly travel back and forth America. © Clara Bismuth/Qobuz

By most metrics, Röyksopp's Profound Mysteries project is everything longtime fans could want: sleek Nordic synth pop, a grand return to the album format, and collaborations with left-field mavericks like Alison Goldfrapp, Jamie Irrepressible, Susanne Sundfør, and Astrid S, among others. Launched in April 2022, the Norwegian electronic duo's first proper album in eight years arrived as a highly conceptualized world of off-putting visual "artifacts" (each song is paired with its own digital music-visualizer), short films, cinematic instrumentals, and lush downtempo pop songs fronted by a highly curated cast of vocalists. A second volume followed in August, revealing a similar, though slightly altered, guest list, and the project now concludes with November's Profound Mysteries III. For those counting, that's 30 new tracks, 30 artifacts, and 30 films. Since their debut around the turn of the millennium, Svein Berge and Torbjørn Brundtland have consistently produced at the top of their game, but even by their own standards, 2022 saw an absolute deluge of new content. Like its two predecessors, this third set dances between light and darkness, exploring the parameters of Röyksopp's hallmark sound on highlights like the glacial, string-laden "So Ambiguous," with its very understated vocal from Irrepressible, and the menacing, nearly 10-minute instrumental centerpiece "Speed King." At its peak, the latter track feels like an Antarctic rave or the soundtrack to a high-speed snowmobile chase, proving that Berge and Brundtland can still bring the thunder to the dancefloor. Both Sundfør and Goldfrapp are back, though their unique talents feel a bit wasted on their respective cuts, "Stay Awhile" and "The Night," two underwhelming tracks that feel like paler sequels to their earlier contributions. Detroit's Maurissa Rose adds a rare bit of American flair to Röyksopp's overwhelmingly European palette on "Feel It," and Londoner Pixx helps end the project on a high note with the dynamic "Like an Old Dog." Standouts aside, Profound Mysteries III feels like the weakest link in this ambitious, year-long project which, while exciting to behold, probably could have been condensed into a one exceptional album. © Timothy Monger /TiVo