"It seems I'm miles above the surface of the earth/ I can see across the whole of London and beyond," intones Rotem Wilson over the hypnotic electronic pulsing of "The Harmony Codex," the title track of her husband Steven Wilson's seventh solo album. It's an evocative, widescreen scene that gives the listener a sense of the scale that Wilson is trying to achieve, along with being a moment of meditative pause in a record characterised by stylistic left-turns and surprises. In the past 15 years, since launching a solo career parallel to his three-and-a-half decades fronting Porcupine Tree, Wilson has thematically conceived his albums: 2008's Insurgentes revisited the post-punk sounds of his teenage years; 2021's The Future Bites was shiny synth pop. Here he sounds untethered from any particular concept, resulting in his most eclectic and experimental offering to date. Opener "Inclination" sets out his stall, moving from fidgety, Warp Records-styled electronica (replete with anxious, percussive breaths) to a sudden break ushering in Wilson's aching vocal, echoing that of Talk Talk's Mark Hollis on their landmark 1986 album, The Colour Of Spring. Wilson's proggy past resurfaces in the skittering jazz rhythms of "Impossible Tightrope" and the dreamy, Pink Floyd-like "What Life Brings." But, elsewhere, he seems intent on pushing himself in new directions. If there's a sense of existential unease apparent in the Peter Gabriel-esque "Time Is Running Out" ("You had a panic attack midway through the flight"), there's also emotional balm on offer in "Rock Bottom"—a mutually reassuring duet, with Israeli singer Ninet Tayeb, that comes across like an even more desperate take on Gabriel and Kate Bush's raw and heartfelt 1986 hit "Don't Give Up". The Harmony Codex never stays in one place for long, though. The climax of "Beautiful Scarecrow" shares some of its pummelling, industrial DNA with Massive Attack's Mezzanine album, "Actual Brutal Facts" finds Wilson successfully dabbling in pitch-shifted rapping, and the 9:27 trip that is closer "Staircase" is a multi-movement summation of all that has gone before. Overall, the lasting impression is that after realising the grand design that is The Harmony Codex, Steven Wilson can now go anywhere.  © Tom Doyle/Qobuz

When Pink Floyd bassist-turned-solo artist Roger Waters announced plans to re-imagine the band's iconic Dark Side Of The Moon, puzzled looks rightly ensued.  He even said to Variety, "We all thought I was mad but the more we considered it, the more we thought 'isn't that the whole point?'" Waters, who wrote much of Dark Side and is no stranger to controversy, has offered that Redux's relation to the original is, "Not to supersede it or to replace it, but to remember it, and as an adjunct to it, and to progress the work of the original concept of the original record and all those original songs."  Opener "Speak to Me" now features spoken text that is actually the lyrics from "Free Four," which appears on Pink Floyd's 1972 album Obscured By Clouds: "The memories of a man in his old age, are the deeds of a man in his prime/ You shuffle in the gloom of the sick room and talk to yourself as you die/ For life is a short, warm moment and death is a long, cold rest." "On The Run" is prefaced with "Today, I awoke from a dream/ It was a revelation, almost Patmosian, whatever that means/ But that's evidently another story/ It began with some standard bullshit fight with evil/ In this case, an apparently all-powerful hooded and cloaked figure," which was something Waters wrote down after waking up from a dream in July, 2021.  A number of talented musicians join Waters, among them: Gus Seyffert on bass, guitar, backing vocals; Joey Waronker on drums; Jonathan Wilson on guitars and synth.  In the case of the original single "Money," once an indictment of capitalism, Waters slows the pace, adds cello accents and a menacing piano part, and switches into a whispery Tom Waits-Leonard Cohen conspiratorial growl. The new lyrics are about a heavyweight boxing match, the devil, and a Faustian deal. One of rock's enduring masterpieces has now become the backdrop for a spoken word piece where Waters imparts the perspective he's gained since the album's original release in 1973. © Robert Baird/Qobuz

Cat Power—Chan Marshall—wanted to mark the moment in 1966 that "informs everything …  this precipice of time that changed music forever": Bob Dylan's "Royal Albert Hall Concert" (actually played at the Manchester Free Trade Hall), the one when he switched from acoustic to electric midway through—prompting an incensed folk purist to yell out "Judas!" Fifty-six years after that concert, Marshall delivered a sublime song-for-song re-creation of the set, at the actual Royal Albert Hall. "I'm not being Bob … I'm just recreating it, that's all. But not making it mine," she has said. Inevitably, though, the songs do become hers. It's evident right away, from "She Belongs to Me" (and shortly after, "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue"), the influence Dylan has long had on Cat Power's music. But with her husky voice, so like Nico's now and far from Dylan's youthful reediness, revealing traces of her Georgia upbringing ("She don't look baaaaack") and contrasting the clean acoustic guitar and shiny harmonica, she owns it. "Desolation Row" is a twelve-and-a-half minute marvel. The guitar is not blindingly bright like Charlie McCoy's flamenco flavor, but that works well with Marshall's more serious/less jaunty air here. Without aping Dylan, she hits his inflections, putting exuberant emphasis on the ends of lines ("And the good Samaritan! He's dressing!"). Her "Visions of Johanna" underscores the prettiness of the melody, while the way she sings the name "Jo-hanna" make it feel so much more exotic than it is. She gets playful with the familiar phrasing on the chorus of "Mr. Tambourine Man" and sings "Just Like a Woman" beautifully, offering a softer, less angular version of Dylan's classic. At 50, she was twice the age of Dylan when he recorded the song for Blonde on Blonde, and you can hear—feel—the extra tread on her heart. When electrified "Tell Me Momma" kicks in like the Wizard of Oz Technicolor moment, it's as thrilling as it's supposed to be, the first word of the titular line bitingly crisp each time. "I Don't Believe You (She Acts Like We Never Have Met)" plays up the soulful grooviness that always feels a little buried on Dylan's live recording, while "Baby, Let Me Follow You Down" expertly captures his wild-eyed edginess. Marshall's "Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues" is more elegant, even with its raw edges, than Dylan's young-man machismo. She does not recreate things down to the between-song patter but there is a moment, just before "Ballad of a Thin Man" (so slinky, so powerful), when someone yells out "Judas!"—and Marshall, serenely, responds, "Jesus." "I wasn't expecting the audience to recreate their part of the original show as well, but then I wanted to set the record straight—in a way, Dylan is a deity to all of us who write songs," she has said. And, as it did in 1966, closer "Like a Rolling Stone" sounds like liberation; maybe even like Marshall knows some part of this is hers now. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

When Daft Punk announced they were releasing a new album eight years after 2005's Human After All, fans were starved for new material. The Tron: Legacy score indulged the duo's sci-fi fantasies but didn't offer much in the way of catchy songs, so when Random Access Memories' extensive publicity campaign featured tantalizing clips of a new single, "Get Lucky," their fan base exploded. But when the album finally arrived, that hugely hyped single was buried far down its track list, emphasizing that most of these songs are very much not like "Get Lucky" -- or a lot of the pair's previous music, at least on the surface. The album isn't much like 2010s EDM, either. Instead, Daft Punk separate themselves from most contemporary electronic music and how it's made, enlisting some of their biggest influences to help them get the sounds they needed without samples. On Homework's "Teachers," they reverently name-checked a massive list of musicians and producers. Here, they place themselves on equal footing with disco masterminds Nile Rodgers and Giorgio Moroder, who shares his thoughts on making music with wild guitar and synth solos trailing behind him on one of RAM's definitive moments, "Giorgio by Moroder." Elsewhere, Daft Punk celebrate their close relationship with indie music on the lovely "Doin' It Right," which makes the most of Panda Bear's boyish vocals, and on the Julian Casablancas cameo "Instant Crush," which is only slightly more electronic than the Strokes' Comedown Machine. And of course, Pharrell Williams is the avatar of their dancefloor mastery on the sweaty disco of "Lose Yourself to Dance" and "Get Lucky," which is so suave that it couldn't help but be an instant classic, albeit a somewhat nostalgic one. "Memories" is the album's keyword: As Daft Punk celebrate the late '70s and early '80s with deluxe homages like "Give Life Back to Music" -- one of several terrific showcases for Rodgers -- and the spot-on soft rock of the Todd Edwards collaboration "Fragments of Time," they tap into the wonder and excitement in that era's music. A particularly brilliant example is "Touch," where singer/songwriter Paul Williams conflates his work in Phantom of the Paradise and The Muppet Movie in the song's mystique, charm, and unabashed emotions. Daft Punk have never shied away from "uncool" influences or sentimentality, and both are on full display throughout Random Access Memories. It's the kind of grand, album rock statement that listeners of the '70s and '80s would have spent weeks or months dissecting and absorbing -- the ambition of Steely Dan, Alan Parsons, and Pink Floyd are as vital to the album as any of the duo's collaborators. For the casual Daft Punk fan, this album might be harder to love than "Get Lucky" hinted; it might be too nostalgic, too overblown, a shirking of the group's duty to rescue dance music from the Young Turks who cropped up in their absence. But Random Access Memories is also Daft Punk's most personal work, and richly rewarding for listeners willing to spend time with it.© Heather Phares /TiVo

All tracks are in 24/88.2 excepted the track 4 from disc 2 "Infiniting Repeating (2013 demo)" which is in 24/44.1.Two years after Daft Punk's split in February 2021, comes a reissue of their decade-old final album Random Access Memories in a deluxe version with a nine-track disc bringing together studio outtakes, demos and unreleased tracks. Included are "Horizon" (a ballad released only in the Japanese version at the time), two minutes of vocoder testing by Pharrell Williams for "Lose Yourself to Dance," and two unreleased tracks: "Prime (2012 Unfinished)," which didn't make it to original release, and the soulful "Infinity Repeating (2013 Demo)" featuring Julian Casablancas and The Voidz. (Casablancas would end up on RAM with "Instant Crush.") There's also the delightful "The Writing of Fragments of Time," an eight-minute behind-the-scenes track which puts us in the studio with Daft Punk and producer Todd Edwards as they discuss this "beach road" song, and create it all at once. Thirty-five minutes of bonus material ends with "Touch (2021 Epilogue)," the track composed with their idol Paul Williams, and chosen as the soundtrack for the band's farewell video in 2021. This is a deluxe version that is well worth chasing after. © Smaël Bouaici/Qobuz

Few are the career artists who can create music over the long haul that continually sounds fresh and contemporary without seeming faddish or desperate. Across eight solo studio albums, Norah Jones has effortlessly embraced the here-and-now, followed her muse and allowed her assured sense of self to carry her forward without any embarrassing missteps. Jones wanted to explore darkness on 2020's Pick Me Off the Floor, her most recent studio album, so she flipped the switch. Two years later she swerved to record Playing Along, an oft-buoyant album of duets with artists including Mavis Staples, Valerie June and Jeff Tweedy. It succeeded on its own terms. For Visions, Jones wanted to write with a single collaborator, Leon Michels, to make a mid-tempo record with session players and solo artists who've recorded with Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings, Brazilian Girls, Joni Mitchell and others. So she invited him into the studio, shut the door and made Visions.Billed by Jones' label as a more carefree, upbeat record, Visions sets a mood across twelve soulful, wood-paneled originals. Despite mentions of dance or dancing in a few songs, it's often bliss driven by solitude that's suggested. The happy-go-lucky "On My Way" floats across its measures, a joyful ode to moving forward not with a partner or lover, but alone, where the notion that "no one cares what you have to say" lives in the same space as "in the dark you can dance and sway." That many of the ideas for Visions, as Jones has said, "came in the middle of the night or in that moment right before sleep," it makes sense that she's focused on solitude, and that she's embracing it."Everyday we do God's little dance," she sings on "Staring at the Wall," an uptempo groover with a twangy, Sun Records-suggestive guitar line and a piano-propelled counter melody that, combined with sturdy snare-drum snaps, could power a Saturday night dance floor at a dive bar. "Running" gets energy from a piano melody, a reverbed drum pattern and a layered chorus of Jones' voice adding responses. "Swept Up in the Night" is a ballad of longing set after midnight. Lost in a dream, Jones can't shake her memories of a certain someone: "I find you a thousand times/ Underneath the stones in my mind." These are sturdy songs, the kind that not only linger in the psyche, but are so well crafted as to be indestructible. © Randall Roberts/Qobuz

Josh Homme's hard-rock brutality has always come with humor and a dash of campy, scenery-chewing flamboyance. Not even a very messy, very public divorce battle can change that, as evidenced by "Emotion Sickness," the first single from Queens of the Stone Age's eighth album, In Times New Roman.... The verses swing and rock like the band's great "No One Knows," while the creamy, classic-rock chorus could be lifted from Journey. "Baby don't care for me," Homme sings, turning a jazz standard on its head. "People come and go on the breeze/ For a whole life? Possibly." Borrowing its title from a line in "New Fang" ("Had it made to parade/ Found a sucker, now I want another") by Them Crooked Vultures, Homme's side project with Dave Grohl and John Paul Jones, "Made to Parade" sways low and wide like a big metal pendulum—then fires up a majestic, Brian May-esque bridge to the end. Homme, the last man standing from the original QOTSA lineup, invented his own very specific genre (including with his previous band Kyuss) in desert rock; sometimes metal, sometimes sludgy, sometimes psychedelic, sometimes bluesy, it has always allowed for flexibility. So QOTSA goes goth-dark on "Carnavoyeur," which works itself into a frenzy as Homme explores his lonesome-dove liberation: "Free fall from the nest, Then glide to the left/ A shine catch the eye, So flow to the right/ Flying high, realize, There are no more mountains to climb." The band even plays with slinky, sexy New Romantic vibes on "Time & Place," "What the Peephole Say," and "Straight Jacket Fitting," which sounds like said constraints should be paired with an ascot. Homme's arch delivery sounds like Bryan Ferry fronting stoner rock; then the song ends ... and another fades in, all desert-mirage blurry like some kind of campfire Clapton number. "Sicily" has a cool prey-stalking groove; "Paper Machete" slithers and grinds with its sleazy guitar solo. And "Negative Space" is a deliciously nasty piece of work, the guitar like a well-oiled monster hungrily sliding through the streets. "Don't say you love me no more," Homme half-pleads, half-commands. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Denis Villeneuve and Hans Zimmer (Interstellar, Gladiator…) reunite for the second installment of Dune, the film adaptation of Frank Herbert’s science fiction novels. In this sequel, Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet) unites with Chani (Zendaya) and the Fremen to lead a revolt against those who destroyed his family. Haunted by dark premonitions, he finds himself confronted with a difficult choice between the love of his life and the fate of the universe. Zimmer’s troubling score echoes these menacing intuitions, full of metallic textures that intertwine with the textures of the human voice, leading to sonorities that are both familiar and strange at once. We also hear the first film’s famous gimmick, the guttural voice of the Bene Gesserit, contributing to the project’s profoundly spiritual quality. Overall, the soundtrack to Dune: Part Two is more meditative than that of the first film, as is evidenced by the choice of the duduk, the Armenian woodwind instrument that most notably haunts the opening piece (“Beginnings Are Such Delicate Times”). Loyal to the great tradition of Hollywood film music, Hans Zimmer graces us with a love song that’s full of tenderness. Those who love the enchanting Zimmer of Terrence Malik’s The Thin Red Line will certainly appreciate this soundtrack to one of 2024’s most anticipated films. © Nicolas Magenham/Qobuz

In 2021, Bob Dylan was on the road for his Never-Ending Tour – his tours have been going by the same name since the late 80s. However, it ultimately came to an abrupt end due to a health crisis. Dylan started livestreaming the same year due to his inability to play in public, holding an intimate virtual concert filmed and broadcasted for just a few days. The performance is now known as the Shadow Kingdom, and is accessible to a large number of people despite remaining shrouded in mystery. Subtitled "The early songs of Bob Dylan", this album does not draw on the first albums of the indestructible folk-rock bard. Instead, he plays songs from the 70s and 80s. But the acoustic style, hovering between blues, folk and tipsy crooner songs, is from the time when Dylan made his debut.Mandolins, accordions, guitars, harmonicas, double bass, stories, and the exquisite voice that sings old songs that you can’t help but listen to and share. At 80 years of age, Dylan is completely at ease in this wooded and retro setting. The sound is acoustic, but there is still electricity in the air; the original rock'n'roll is never too far away. Recognisable anywhere, his instrument-like voice undulates around the melodies, before covering and transfroming them into pure dylanries, little pastoral epics. On Sierra's Theme, the unreleased instrumental that closes the album, we find ourselves humming like Dylan, almost as if we’d always known the song. © Stéphane Deschamps/Qobuz

As far as sophomore slumps go, bands have done a whole lot worse than The Black Crowes. Their debut, Shake Your Money Maker, blew through the stultified 1990 mainstream rock scene with a shameless pillaging of southern rock, Memphis soul, and arena swagger that may have been largely unoriginal, but was delivered with such infectious, sleazy sincerity that it was unsurprising that it racked up hit after hit and wound up going multi-platinum. A clear fork in the road presented itself to the band when it came time for the follow-up: Continue being the best bar band in America or dig in and make an "artistic statement" that risks derailing their ascent like so many other bands before them? Well, apparently the Crowes said "Why not both?" and emerged with The Southern Harmony and Musical Companion, in which they dove even deeper into their roots to emerge with a singular take on gutbucket Americana. Still thick with the charm and audaciousness that defined the best moments on Money Maker, the 10 tracks of Southern Harmony are all-killer-no-filler, yet still remarkably dynamic in tone and tenor. Although the opening fusillade of "Sting Me," "Remedy," and "Thorn in My Pride" front-loads the album with its biggest hits, the album truly reveals its treasures when it moves past those straightforward rockers and ballads and gets murkier. Having enlisted a new guitarist (Marc Ford) and keyboardist Eddie Harsch, the band's sonic palette had grown and matured, so on cuts like "Black Moon Creeping" and "My Morning Song," the brothers Chris and Rich Robinson get to flex their weirdo urges and stretch out into proto-jam-band territory. And yes, there's a cover here, but instead of a barnstormer like Otis Redding's "Hard to Handle," it's a cathartic, soulful take on Bob Marley's "Time Will Tell." While Southern Harmony didn't sell quite as well as its predecessor, its chart hits and double-platinum status were none too shabby, and, when combined with the album's creative accomplishments, it positioned the band as a long-term artistic contender rather than a good-time supernova. This incredible anniversary edition excellently expands on that theme, delivering unreleased outtakes, live-in-studio performances, and a fierce live concert that show just how powerful and inspired the Crowes were during this era. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

Drummer Patrick Carney recently said the goal for the Black Keys' twelfth album was to have "fucking fun." Sounds like mission accomplished. If you've been waiting for Beck to make a sequel to Midnite Vultures, this might be as close as we get. He's pretty much a third member of the band on Ohio Players—co-writing and/or guesting on eight of the 14 songs. His SoCal sunshine (and backing vocals) can be heard on the relaxed fit of "This Is Nowhere" and freak-show single "Beautiful People (Stay Here)," a co-write with Dan the Automator that borrows the groove of "Feeling That Vibe" by Richard Mead. Beck takes the vocal lead on "Paper Crown," a thick slab of greased-up R&B decorated with deep bass, sassy Hammond, Moog, Vocoder and 808—and that's before Three 6 Mafia's Juicy J rolls in and brings the strut down to a cool, slow roll. It's hard to say who's zoomin' who here, but something about the collision of Beck, Carney and Dan Auerbach brings out a wonderfully weird, playful side of the Black Keys. Delightful "Don't Let Me Go" melds Four Seasons-style pomp, mod garage rock and funk horns while "Read Em and Weep" gives Halloween haunted house vibes—with Beck on organ and Auerbach's revved-up surf guitar conjuring the spirit of teen-tragedy splatter platters (á la Jan and Dean's "Dead Man's Curve"). And it's not just Beck along for the ride.  "... It's a big Saturday night party record," Carney has said. "We just had people come through the studio and throw a little bit of special sauce at each song." The band also brought in Memphis horrorcore legend Lil Noid for sleazy-sounding "Candy and Her Friends." And Noel Gallagher—"We were referring to him as 'The Chord Lord' because he's just a perfectionist with it," Carney told NME—leaves his mark on three songs, including "Only Love Matters," a tight stomp meant for cutting a rug. The Oasis songwriter was apparently in a real dance mood; "You'll Pay" is hip-swiveling, Question Mark and the Mysterians cool, with Auerbach perfectly working his falsetto. Gallagher picks up backing vocals on both of those as well as "On the Game," a mellowed-out live take with a Derek and the Dominos feel. "Fever Tree"—another Beck joint—has a psyched-out stomp. Carney's drums are monstrous, and Auerbach's guitar is like a buzzsaw, on dangerous "Please Me (Till I'm Satisfied)." "I Forgot to Be Your Lover," meanwhile, is solid gold soul: Auerbach really sweats the line "And I'm sorry/ I'm so sorry" for the gritty cover of William Bell and Booker T. Jones' silky Stax single. There's apparently even more to look forward to: A rumored Alice Cooper song didn't make the album, but may be out later this year. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

The second in a series of catalog re-recordings and revisions, Red [Taylor's Version] finds Taylor Swift revisiting her self-styled pop breakthrough Red. Released nine years after the original album, Red [Taylor's Version] does bear a few signs of maturation, notably on the explicitly pop moments, such as "I Knew You Were Trouble," "22," and "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together," which seem ever so slightly muted when compared to the 2012 versions. Nevertheless, much of the point of the re-recordings is to get these new versions as close to the original versions as possible so they can be easily licensed and to that end, Swift succeeds admirably. The more interesting part of Red [Taylor's Version] arrives in the second half when Swift records songs left in the vault, including "Better Man" -- a song she gave to Little Big Town, who won a Grammy for Best Country/Duo Group Performance in 2018 for their recording -- and duets with Phoebe Bridgers ("Nothing New"), Chris Stapleton ("I Bet You Think About Me"), and Ed Sheeran ("Run"). The highlight of these is a ten-minute version of "All Too Well," a bitter ballad that was already one of the peaks of Red and is now turned into an epic kiss-off. This, along with excavated songs, are reason enough for Swift to revisit Red and they, not the re-recordings, are the reason to return to Red [Taylor's Version].© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Neil Young continues to exploit his massive catalog of original songs in innovative ways. On his 45th studio album, he revisits 12 songs—mixed as a single track—that stretch as far back as his days with Buffalo Springfield. Young is clear about Before and After's intentions: "Songs from my life recently recorded create a music montage with no beginnings or endings. The feeling is captured, not in pieces but as a whole piece … music defies shuffling, digital organization, separation. Only for listening."  The constant subject throughout is the life affirming powers of having and giving love. With few exceptions the critical segues between tracks are seamless and unobtrusive; opener "I'm the Ocean," a classic Young chord progression that was originally on Mirror Ball, easily blends into "Homefires"—first released on Neil Young Archives Volume II 1972-1976. Young is the entire band on this single track, taken from a 96 kHz/24-bit digital source. (Perhaps as an inside joke, Wilco's Jeff Tweedy is listed in the credits as being an "Electric guitar & Amplifier tech.") He switches from acoustic guitar, harmonica and piano to pump organ occasionally, as he does in the transition between "On the Way Home" to "If You Got Love," an unreleased track from the 1983 Trans sessions. With Young's voice as a constant, there is an undeniable sameness to this continuous design. Except for "Comes a Time," he avoids the hits and concentrates on songs that he's felt were unjustly neglected in the past, or that he's found new meaning in today. That's audibly true in a new version of "When I Hold You in My Arms," his paean to life's inevitable changes. Originally on Are You Passionate?, there's now a renewed certainly as Young brings new fervor to familiar lines:  "Old heart's going up/ Old heart's coming down/ My feelings going up/ My feelings coming down/ You gotta hold onto someone in this life."  © Robert Baird/Qobuz

Beginning with Swordfishtrombones, released in September 1983, Tom Waits' turn towards cabaret blues-rock (that had more to do with Bertolt Brecht than George Gerswhin) was brilliantly confirmed on Rain Dogs two years later. Marc Ribot, the genius behind this masterstroke, brought a unique, unregimented guitar sound to the Californian bluesman, finding a perfect osmosis with his wavering organ. Also on six-string, another big name was on hand for a few tracks: Keith Richards! With his crazy stories, improbable stopovers between New York and Singapore, UFO sounds, disfigured blues and drunken waltzes, Waits dares to do it all, and delivers some of his finest songs, such as Downtown Train and Jockey Full Of Bourbon. Behind the brilliant array of crazier instruments that give our modern-day Howlin' Wolf his unique identity, Rain Dogs offers some truly timeless songs.    © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

While it feels like John Scofield should have recorded either dozens of albums for ECM or none at all, Uncle John's Band is, in fact, his third set as a leader for the label. Appropriately, Scofield is in trio mode (along with drummer Bill Stewart and Vicente Archer), bringing a crystalline and improvisationally-minded approach to this unique collection. Although, as the title indicates, there are a number of classic rock tunes being worked on here—Neil Young's "Old Man," the Byrds' version of Bob Dylan's "Mr. Tambourine Man"—there are also a handful of standards as well as Scofield originals in the lineup. The compositions are wildly varied but the trio's take on them is remarkably consistent, delivered with a cool, improvisational confidence that's right at home in the ECM stable. Notably, the title track doesn't come until the end of this double-disc set, as its loose and joyful vibe stands out from the gentility of much of the rest of the album, which moves at a relatively sedate pace. (Few cuts are as sleepy as the trio's take on "Somewhere, however.) Still, Scofield being Scofield, that slow burn doesn't correlate to a lack of funk. Tracks like "Mo Green" and "Back in Time" are thoroughly chilled and defined by his clear and precise guitar tone, but they're also remarkably greasy, thanks to the rhythm section. Bill Stewart's impressive drum work is both complex and refreshingly direct, especially on a cut like "TV Band" where he seamlessly switches from a funky backbeat to dense, improvisational percussion without ever letting go of the groove. Likewise, bassist Vicente Archer provides as much funky foundation as he does freeform filigree, serving as both a foil for the other players as well as the guy who seems to always get them back on track. Archer performs this task admirably throughout the record, most notably on "Old Man," during which the bulk of the song's duration finds Young's original melody sublimated and riffed on by the group until it appears they've completely lost sight of their starting point; a simple three-note figure dropped by Archer near the end easily snaps Scofield and Stewart back to Young's indelible melody. That guileless switching between memorable songs and adventurous improvisation persists throughout this strong album, making it a strong addition to both Scofield and ECM's catalog. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

Joshua Redman makes his Blue Note debut with his nuanced 2023 travelog where are we. Along with being his first studio album for the storied jazz label (and his 16th overall), where are we is also his first primarily vocal-oriented production, featuring singer Gabrielle Cavassa. Also joining him is pianist Aaron Parks, bassist Joe Sanders, and drummer Brian Blade. Vocally, the California-born/New Orleans-based Cavassa has a warm sound that bridges the gap between the relaxed style of alt pop artists like Billie Eilish with jazz and R&B luminaries like Billie Holiday and Phyllis Hyman. She fits nicely alongside Redman, whose own burnished tone has always evinced a vocal-like quality. There's a sense throughout the album that Redman is pulling songs from an array of influences. Most emblematic of this broad palette is "Chicago Blues," a heady cross-stitch of Count Basie's "Goin' to Chicago" and indie singer/songwriter Sufjan Stevens' "Chicago" that also features Chicago-bred vibraphonist Joel Ross. Redman returns to the hometown concept throughout the album, bringing along several special guests who each play a song associated with the place they grew up. Crescent City-born trumpeter Nicholas Payton jumps on board for a boldly reharmonized take on "Do You Know What It Means," while guitarist Kurt Rosenwinkel sprinkles his fusion-influenced lines on a convincingly reworked rendition of Bruce Springsteen's "Streets of Philadelphia." We also get New York guitarist Peter Bernstein for an urbane and swinging take on the Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart standard "Manhattan." Elsewhere, Cavassa settles into warm readings of "By the Time I Get to Phoenix," "That's New England," and "Stars Fell on Alabama," all of which bring to mind the relaxed, '50s jazz of singers like June Christy, albeit with a modern creative jazz and classical-inflected artfulness that longtime Redman fans will be familiar with.© Matt Collar /TiVo