Three years after For Ever had catapulted them to a new dimension, Josh Lloyd-Watson and Tom McFarland offer us Loving In Stereo which they consider to be the perfect Jungle album. Now freed from the XL label which released their first two albums, the two musicians claim to have found freedom in founding their own label, Caiola Records, and now only have to please themselves. After a first album produced by themselves in a home studio, and a second album, according to them too much sprinkled with Frank Ocean or James Blake emotions, they return here to the "heart" of Jungle, that is to say the spirit of their first album but with more resources at their disposal. “On the first two, there's some cool stuff, but it wasn't quite right for me", Lloyd-Watson explains. "But this one is exactly what we wanted to do.”For the first time, the London collective (with variable geometry) is joined by guests on a studio album: first the American rapper Bas, who raps to a very happy acoustic guitar on Romeo, then the Swiss singer with Tamil origins Priya Ragu, who made her mark in 2020 with the sunny soul single Good Love 2.0 (which was given a hypnotic remix by Little Dragon). Josh and Tom offer her the same sort of exercise with Goodbye My Love, an unstoppable nu-soul track, just like the opening track on the album, Keep Moving. For the rest, fans of the English band will not be confused by this clever mix of funk, disco, pop and soul that has worked so well for them. Pure Jungle, as promised. © Smaël Bouaici/Qobuz

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After the superb side project California Son, which he entirely dedicated to unexpected and occasionally obscure covers (Roy Orbison, Melanie, Laura Nyro, Buffy Sainte-Marie, Dylan, 5th Dimension, Jobriath, Phil Ochs, Tim Hardin, Joni Mitchell, Carly Simon), Morrissey returns to his own compositions. This time, the ex-Smiths vocalist (who is also known for his vocal points of view that often get written about in the tabloids) delivers an eclectic array of songs that is distinctly less rock’n’roll on the whole. This time, the sound is rather pop, often groovy but never overly seductive, the climax being the single Bobby, Don’t You Think They Know? sung in a duet with disco soul powerhouse Thelma Houston. Some tracks even sound rather like The Smiths… Lyrically, Moz unsurprisingly remains anti-everything: media, establishment, open-mindedness, consumerism. As for his Marmite crooner’s voice, it excels in the final track My Hurling Days Are Done, punctuating a rather interesting thirteenth album. ©️ Marc Zisman/Qobuz

After enduring ten years of busted label deals and other forms of neglect, Anthony Hamilton finally caught a break. Though 2003's Comin' from Where I'm From only threatened to crack the Top 30, it became a steady seller on the back of the slow and lean "Charlene" -- a risky pick for a single since it sounded nothing like "Yeah!," "Lean Back," or any of the ballads that were getting rotation on R&B stations at the time -- and eventually went platinum. A disc of previously unreleased recordings, Soulife, debuted near the Top Ten in mid-2005 and made it clear that Hamilton had become a major artist with a hungry following to prove it. Ain't Nobody Worryin' will enhance his rep. Had "Charlene" flopped, the album might've come out a little different -- perhaps a little more pop, with a couple guest MCs and some bouncier beats -- but it's even more organic and individualistic than its predecessor. It's also more poignant. Despite what it looks like, the sentiment in the album's title and song of the same name is a world apart from Bobby McFerrin's carefree "Don't Worry, Be Happy": as Hamilton lays it out, people are either too resigned to their problems or too caught up in them to worry. This seriousness transfers to "Preacher's Daughter," a criticism of preachers who are too occupied to take care of their own, as well as the opening "Where Did It All Go Wrong," a breakup song that's as stunned (and nearly as stunning) as Bill Withers' "Hope She'll Be Happier." There's also "Never Love Again," the kind of heartbroken ballad that's potent and sweet enough to sadden someone who's in a completely different situation. But all of this only covers one third of a well-rounded album that's as generous in its expressions of optimism, faith, and lasting love. With spiritual songs both personal ("Pass Me Over") and universal ("Everybody," simultaneously a convincing reggae jam), Hamilton extends his reach with confidence, and easygoing songs like "Southern Stuff," "Sista Big Bones," "The Truth," and "Change Your World" give the album more depth. Studio do-it-all Mark Batson is a regular presence again, while Dre & Vidal, James Poyser, Raphael Saadiq, Ahmir Thompson, and Kevin Wooten help out in smaller capacities, giving Hamilton more modernized '70s-soul backdrops that ideally complement the singer's ruggedly smooth voice. Regardless of the decade you're living in, this is an album to live with.© Andy Kellman /TiVo

R.E.M. close out their Warner contract -- not to mention their entire career -- with the double-disc Part Lies Part Heart Part Truth Part Garbage, their first compilation to combine early recordings from their time at IRS with their major-label hits for Warner. It's misleading to look at these as merely two separate eras, as it more accurately breaks down into a three-act structure: the IRS years when R.E.M. were the kings of college rock; the stretch between 1988-1995 when they were international superstars; and then the slow decline of 1998-2011, the years after Bill Berry, the years when Peter Buck, Michael Stipe, and Mike Mills tried to redefine the group as a trio before finally realizing they'd said all they could say. Part Lies gives equal time to each act -- there are 13 songs from IRS, 14 from the golden years at Warner, 13 from the trio years (including a revival of the mid-'80s outtake "Bad Day," which feels like a slight stretch) -- an eminently fair move that tells the story while slightly obscuring the import of the tale. Inevitably, the jangle pop and murk of the '80s are downplayed -- "Can't Get There from Here," "Pretty Persuasion," "Feeling Gravity's Pull" are missing -- in favor of a heavy dose of new millennial material, including three songs from 2011's respectable Collapse into Now and three perfectly fine new songs, which means the last ten or so cuts are songs that fairweather fans of either the '80s or '90s just won't care much about or possibly even know. Nevertheless, this last act is shown in a good light -- the benefit of a comp is that it's totally possible, even welcome, to downplay dull lapses like Around the Sun -- and, when combined with well-chosen highlights from the band's powerful first two acts, adds up to a thorough narrative of R.E.M.'s entire career.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Lemar Obika was a rare breed of singer who didn't fade back into obscurity after a brief moment of fame following an appearance on a reality TV talent show. In fact, Lemar, known only by his first name, actually improved his chart fortunes as time went along, The Truth About Love being his third album since his appearance in 2004 on one of the lesser-known shows, BBC's Fame Academy, and his first to crack the Top Three. Opening with a 26-second African spiritual that acknowledged his family's roots in Nigeria, the album quickly moved into familiar smooth soul territory, R&B from the 2000s, and up-to-date doo wop. The subject matter of the songs on The Truth About Love was -- of course -- love, whether finding it or losing it or what happens in between, but there were also influences in the lyrics reflecting his charity work in Africa. The first single was "It's Not That Easy," a soulful and memorable number that hit the Top Ten, as had most of his singles to date. He invited a tightly knit studio band to play on every track, including bassist Pino Palladino, drummer Earl Harvin, and keyboard player Andy Wallace. Also featured are female vocalists and fellow soul artists Mica Paris on "Can't You See" (which also includes a rap by Styles P) and Joss Stone on the track "Anniversary."© Sharon Mawer /TiVo

Sony's release of Frances Bourne's first solo album features the British mezzo-soprano singing cabaret songs by German, Czech, and British composers. The majority of songs are by Kurt Weill, several of which were written in French during the composer's Parisian sojourn in the early '30s, including selections from the musical play Marie Galante. Bourne makes the interesting choice of singing all the Weill songs in French translation, even the selections from Die Dreigroschenoper and Happy End. She doesn't have a particularly Gallic sensibility to bring to the repertoire, so the choice seems somewhat random, but there's no harm done, either; the songs retain Weill's brusque, rather dark charm. Several originally written for voice and piano have the added appeal of idiomatic new orchestral arrangements by Robert Ziegler. Weill may be the gold standard for cabaret songs of the era, but Benjamin Britten's Four Cabaret Songs from the late '30s come closer to the loose-limbed idiom than what listeners familiar only with his "serious" music might imagine possible. His witty, nearly over-the-top setting of Auden's goofy poem "Tell me the truth about love" is especially memorable and delightful. The songs are presented in arrangements for a jazzy chamber ensemble by Daryl Runswick that play somewhat loosely but cleverly with the originals by adding sly instrumental commentary to the texts. Bohuslav Martinu's Three Songs for the Red Seven Cabaret, despite the title, for the most part seem to be stretching the definition of cabaret music and sound more like folk-inspired modern art songs. Bourne's voice is sweet but not particularly large, and she handles the songs recorded here with conviction, but doesn't bring them the élan that's usually associated with cabaret style. These are pleasant and musically nuanced performances, though, of attractive, fun repertoire. The sound is clean and intimate.© TiVo