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

In 1993, PJ Harvey told Melody Maker she didn't get why fans were besotted with her dark, often dangerous sounding lyrics. "It seems silly to me, 'cos they're not poetry, they're not meant to be read," she said. Ironically, the musician's 10th studio album is essentially the audio version of "Olam," a folklore poem Harvey published in 2022. Harvey based the epic in a magical-realist version of Dorset, the craggy English coast that looks sleepy but is the site of centuries of rebellions, uprisings and battles. With producers and longtime collaborators Flood and John Parish, she brings it all to sonically sylvan life. It's the story of nine-year-old Ira-Abel Rawles, growing up on a farm—as Harvey did—in the village of Underwhelem, next to woods protected by the all-seeing eyeball of a lamb named Orlam. The 12 songs represent the calendar cycle of the poem, tracking the last year of Ira-Abel's innocence in a world of old-school pubs, sheep and perversion. While the poem is written in the Dorset dialect, the songs are a mix of Dorset and English, with Harvey often singing from the point of view of the girl. "I think the album is about searching, looking—the intensity of first love, and seeking meaning, Harvey has said. "...The feeling I get from the record is one of love—it's tinged with sadness and loss, but it's loving." Love comes, as it can in childhood, in nonsensical places. There's Orlam, of course, the spirit of her beloved lost lamb, as well as Wyman-Elvis, the ghost of a soldier who represents a sort of Christ-like figure but also The King—as in, Presley. "Are you Elvis? Are you God? Jesus sent to win my trust?" Harvey sings on "Lwonesome Tonight," ethereal as she brings him gifts of Pepsi and "peanut-and-banana sandwiches." Paddington actor Ben Whishaw seemingly embodies Wyman-Elvis on "A Child's Question, August," a dark yet reassuring presence as he joins in for the fairy-tale chorus: "Help me dunnick, drush and dove/ 'Love Me Tender,' tender love." Harvey sounds like a breathy chanteuse on chill opener "Prayer at the Gate," and slightly chaotic on "Autumn Term." "Seen an I" is a capella before the song takes on a Doors moodiness and Harvey finally slips into her more familiar voice. The title track, meanwhile, is most like a classic PJ Harvey song: nervy, on the edge, fueled by the natural power of her voice. That vocal cue is done with intention. "In the lyric everyone is waiting for the savior to reappear—everyone and everything anticipates the arrival of this figure of love and transformation," Harvey has said of the song. "There is a sense of sexual longing and awakening and of moving from one realm into another —from child to adult, from life to death and the eternal." Evocative, shadowy and sometimes sinister, much like Harvey's best work, this catalog entry nonetheless comes with an asterisk: Not for everyone. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Mona Bone Jakon only began Cat Stevens' comeback. Seven months later, he returned with Tea for the Tillerman, an album in the same chamber-group style, employing the same musicians and producer, but with a far more confident tone. Mona Bone Jakon had been full of references to death, but Tea for the Tillerman was not about dying; it was about living in the modern world while rejecting it in favor of spiritual fulfillment. It began with a statement of purpose, "Where Do the Children Play?," in which Stevens questioned the value of technology and progress. "Wild World" found the singer being dumped by a girl, but making the novel suggestion that she should stay with him because she was incapable of handling things without him. "Sad Lisa" might have been about the same girl after she tried and failed to make her way; now, she seemed depressed to the point of psychosis. The rest of the album veered between two themes: the conflict between the young and the old, and religion as an answer to life's questions. Tea for the Tillerman was the story of a young man's search for spiritual meaning in a soulless class society he found abhorrent. He hadn't yet reached his destination, but he was confident he was going in the right direction, traveling at his own, unhurried pace. The album's rejection of contemporary life and its yearning for something more struck a chord with listeners in an era in which traditional verities had been shaken. It didn't hurt, of course, that Stevens had lost none of his ability to craft a catchy pop melody; the album may have been full of angst, but it wasn't hard to sing along to. As a result, Tea for the Tillerman became a big seller and, for the second time in four years, its creator became a pop star.© William Ruhlmann /TiVo

Note to Clapton lovers: here comes the Super Deluxe edition of an expanded compilation of his best tracks, played at the Royal Albert Hall, in London, in 1990 and 1991. It was released in the form of a double LP of fifteen tracks at the time. London’s prestigious concert hall hosted 32 of his Slowhand concerts, 18 of which were performed in succession - breaking his own record - and with four different groups. This new box set of 47 titles, three-quarters of which were previously unreleased, is this time divided into three parts (the first edition was divided into four parts); “Rock”, “Blues”, and “Orchestral”. At the time, Clapton had been accompanied by some high-flying musicians. On the first record, we find Phil Collins on drums for covers of Bob Marley’s I Shot The Sheriff , and Bob Dylan’s Knockin' On Heaven's Door. On the second record, we find Buddy Guy, Robert Cray, and Jimmy - on guitar. Jimmy is the older brother of Stevie Ray Vaughan, who died in a helicopter crash in August 1990. More reserved, performed with the National Philharmonic Orchestra, and conducted by Michael Kamen, the third record offers 10-minute-long scintillating and highly-charged versions of Crossroads, by Robert Johnson, and Layla. Almost six hours of enjoyable listening. © Charlotte Saintoin/Qobuz

Few albums can say that they have defined a generation, but (What’s the Story) Morning Glory? is undoubtedly among that elite crowd. Recorded over the course of just 15 days in 1995, the album catapulted Oasis from crossover indie act to worldwide pop phenomenon, flooding the charts with retro-rock riffs and unforgettable hooks. To say that its impact was titanic would be an understatement. It became the fastest-selling album in the UK since Michael Jackson’s Bad. It has sold over 22 million copies worldwide, making it one of the best-selling albums of all time. And it was the knockout blow in the battle of Britpop, being twice as successful as their rival Blur’s contemporaneous album The Great Escape.Following up from the incredibly popular Definitely Maybe was no mean feat, but Oasis pulled it off without a hitch. The idealistic hope-against-the-odds message from their beginnings was replaced with realism and reflection. In an interview with Rolling Stone, Noel Gallagher commented that while their first album “was all about dreaming of being a pop star in a band, the second album is about actually being a pop star in a band”. They had reached where they wanted to be, and were wondering what lay beyond fame and fortune. The Mancunians had clearly enjoyed enough sex, drugs and rock’n’roll to yield four sides of vinyl, though they never limited themselves purely to counter-culture clichés. Noel Gallagher’s songwriting took on a notably more introspective tone, nestled in amongst jauntier tracks like She’s Electric and Roll With It. His philosophising shone through perhaps most obviously on Cast No Shadow, a song which was dedicated to The Verve’s frontman Richard Ashcroft and details the struggle that songwriters (and more universally, all of us) face when they desperately try to say the right thing and it keeps coming out wrong. Elsewhere, we find the attitude and aloofness that Oasis do so well. The cocaine anthem Morning Glory rides along a continuous wave of stadium-filling guitars as Liam Gallagher sings “All your dreams are made / When you’re chained to the mirror and the razor blade”. And then of course, there are Oasis’ biggest hits: Don’t Look Back In Anger, which urges the listener to live regret-free; Champagne Supernova, which despite its famously nonsensical lyrics (Slowly walking down the hall / Faster than a cannonball we’re looking at you) resonates with people the world over; and the often-imitated-never-replicated Wonderwall, where you’d be hard-pressed to find any Brit who doesn’t know all the words. Being more than just wedding dancefloor fillers and karaoke classics, the three tracks brilliantly capture the band’s skill for drawing complexity from simplicity. Ultimately, this album marked the beginning of the long-drawn-out end for Oasis and the albums that followed never quite lived up to the glorious rock and carefree euphoria found here. But then that’s another story… © Abi Church/Qobuz

After brilliantly surveying the social, political, and spiritual landscape with What's Going On, Marvin Gaye turned to more intimate matters with Let's Get It On, a record unparalleled in its sheer sensuality and carnal energy. Always a sexually charged performer, Gaye's passions reach their boiling point on tracks like the magnificent title hit (a number one smash) and "You Sure Love to Ball"; silky and shimmering, the music is seductive in the most literal sense, its fluid grooves so perfectly designed for romance as to border on parody. With each performance laced with innuendo, each lyric a come-on, and each rhythm throbbing with lust, perhaps no other record has ever achieved the kind of sheer erotic force of Let's Get It On, and it remains the blueprint for all of the slow jams to follow decades later -- much copied, but never imitated.© Jason Ankeny /TiVo

In celebration of their 40 th anniversary, The Cure didn’t just hire out a little pub in their hometown of Crawley, Sussex – they hired out the whole of Hyde Park instead! What an epic location for an epic group. The recording of this concert on July 7, 2018 in London in front of a crowd of 65,000 people is a reminder that the style, sound, creativity, song- writing and atmosphere that Robert Smith and his gang bring to the table is like no other. With his mascara, lipstick and static hair-do, the lead singer of The Cure has never sung so well despite being only a few months off his 60 th birthday here. The concert journeys through four decades of hits (which are sometimes cold wave but are mostly pop) and you can really appreciate the breadth of their work, along with all those melodies that you recognise subconsciously and Robert Smith’s ability to just get on with it. Joined onstage by his long-time partner in crime Simon Gallup (bass), as well as Reeves Gabrels (guitar), Roger O’Donnell (keyboards) and Jason Cooper (drums), he sings some beautiful versions of Pictures of You, In Between Days, Just Like Heaven, A Forest, Disintegration, Lullaby, The Caterpillar, Friday I’m in Love, Close to Me, Boys Don’t Cry, 10:15 Saturday Night and Killing an Arab. © Max Dembo/Qobuz

ZZ Top had reached the top of the charts before, but that didn't make their sudden popularity in 1983 any more predictable. It wasn't that they were just popular -- they were hip, for God's sake, since they were one of the only AOR favorites to figure out to harness the stylish, synthesized grooves of new wave, and then figure out how to sell it on MTV. Of course, it helped that they had songs that deserved to be hits. With "Gimme All Your Lovin'," "Sharp Dressed Man," and "Legs," they had their greatest set of singles since the heady days of Tres Hombres, and the songs that surrounded them weren't bad either -- they would have been singles on El Loco, as a matter of fact. The songs alone would have made Eliminator one of ZZ Top's three greatest albums, but their embrace of synths and sequencers made it a blockbuster hit, since it was the sound of the times. Years later, the sound of the times winds up sounding a bit stiff. It's still an excellent ZZ Top album, one of their best, yet it sounds like a mechanized ZZ Top thanks to the unflaggingly accurate grooves. Then again, that's part of the album's charm -- this is new wave blues-rock, glossed up for the video, looking as good as the omnipresent convertible on the cover and sounding as irresistible as Reaganomics. Not the sort the old-school fans or blues-rock purists will love, but ZZ Top never sounded as much like a band of its time as they did here.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

A half-century into their career, synth-pop provocateurs Ron and Russell Mael—now 77 and 74 years old—are as funny, arch and deservingly influential as they've always been. "The Girl Is Crying in Her Latte," the title track of their twenty-fifth album is lush and robust; as Cate Blanchett, who stars in the accompanying video, has said: "You know, 'the girl is crying in her latte'—it's so deep and shallow, simultaneously." "Is it due to the rain/ Or is she in some pain ... The girl is crying in her latte, yeah," Russell sings. "Now she's leaving the place/ Someone's taking her place/ Orders, then takes a seat/ Looks like it's a repeat ... So many people are crying in their latte." And that's the sort of complementary push-pull the brothers have always trafficked in: highbrow-lowbrow, humorous-sad, pop-niche. They're also genius observers of the world and fantastic imagineers of some world that maybe excited decades ago (or maybe just in their heads). "It's Sunny Today" catalogs all the things you could do on a gorgeous day—to the tune of Christmastime luxury-car commercial strings. Gleeful in the way of  "I Predict" off 1982's Angst in my Pants, "Nothing Is As Good As They Say It Is" applies New Wave pop to the narrative of an already world-weary newborn ready to return to the womb ("Were I born in the south of France/ I would feel less resistant to/ Somewhere that just deserves adieu," go the lyrics, like the caption to a New Yorker cartoon). Set to percolating synth, "Veronica Lake"—the latest in a long line of Sparks' cinematic references—is a garishly funny tale of women on WWII assembly lines whose Hollywood dreams get in the way of Rosie the Riveter reality: "And they all want to be Veronica Lake/ But that peek-a-boo hair, it's a big mistake/ As the foreman has to yell, 'put on the brake'/ Yet another girl caught/ Veronica Lake." "Not That Well-Defined" swirls with the rich darkness of balalaika, "We Go Dancing" is manic ballet theater, and "Take Me for a Ride" is Hitchcockian unhinged. Chanty "The Mona Lisa's Packing, Leaving Late Tonight" churns and sways as if on the high seas. And "When You Leave" is deliciously, wormishly defiant. "They'll be breaking out the good music when you leave/ The Stylistics ... the Delfonics ... There'll be red wine on all the carpets when you leave ... They can't wait," Russell sings, before adopting a lighter voice in response:  "I'm going to stay/ Just to annoy them." It all ends with the troubadour surprise of "It Doesn't Have to Be That Way" and melodramatic "Gee, That Was Fun"—mashing up "My Way" and "Bohemian Rhapsody"-style pomp for what could be read as a grateful career retrospective. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

While he was still leader of progressive rock group Genesis, Phil Collins launched his solo career and released Face Value in 1981. A record which quickly proves to be one of the biggest musical surprises of the year, and one which allows the British artist to begin his ascension as one of the biggest stars of the 1980s. Thanks to the deep and passionate voice of the singer, as well as the numerous pop/soul ballads and his talent for aggressive rock'n'roll, this record has sold (and is currently selling) better than any installment by Genesis. The Town House studio recording sessions in London have obviously greatly inspired Collins who experiments with many studio techniques and leaves plenty of room for his own rhythm guitar, in spite of the fact that he is widely known and admired for his drumming skills. He also takes advantage of his own independence to do a tribute to black American music which is so dear to him, as he invite Phenix Horns, the prestigious brass section for Earth, Wind & Fire, to perform on the record. ©LG/Qobuz

Sad, spare, and beautiful, Blue is the quintessential confessional singer/songwriter album. Forthright and poetic, Joni Mitchell's songs are raw nerves, tales of love and loss (two words with relative meaning here) etched with stunning complexity; even tracks like "All I Want," "My Old Man," and "Carey" -- the brightest, most hopeful moments on the record -- are darkened by bittersweet moments of sorrow and loneliness. At the same time that songs like "Little Green" (about a child given up for adoption) and the title cut (a hymn to salvation supposedly penned for James Taylor) raise the stakes of confessional folk-pop to new levels of honesty and openness, Mitchell's music moves beyond the constraints of acoustic folk into more intricate and diverse territory, setting the stage for the experimentation of her later work. Unrivaled in its intensity and insight, Blue remains a watershed.© Jason Ankeny /TiVo

Sitting atop the charts in 1975, Elton John and Bernie Taupin recalled their rise to power in Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy, their first explicitly conceptual effort since Tumbleweed Connection. It's no coincidence that it's their best album since then, showcasing each at the peak of his power, as John crafts supple, elastic, versatile pop and Taupin's inscrutable wordplay is evocative, even moving. What's best about the record is that it works best of a piece -- although it entered the charts at number one, this only had one huge hit in "Someone Saved My Life Tonight," which sounds even better here, since it tidily fits into the musical and lyrical themes. And although the musical skill on display here is dazzling, as it bounces between country and hard rock within the same song, this is certainly a grower. The album needs time to reveal its treasures, but once it does, it rivals Tumbleweed in terms of sheer consistency and eclipses it in scope, capturing John and Taupin at a pinnacle. They collapsed in hubris and excess not long afterward -- Rock of the Westies, which followed just months later is as scattered as this is focused -- but this remains a testament to the strengths of their creative partnership.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Joni Mitchell's ongoing Archives series has been an overwhelming success and the third volume somehow manages to outdo its predecessors. Where Volume 1 gave a raw, warts-and-all look at a developing talent wrestling with her creative identity and Volume 2 showed that talent operating at an astonishingly high level, Volume 3 documents Mitchell's transition from a truly gifted artist pushing the boundaries of the rock-culture zeitgeist into a mad genius staking her own sonic territories. This set, probably more than any other that has been or will be part of this series, is dynamic and revelatory, like pulling back the curtain on the Wizard of Oz and finding an actual wizard doing real wizardry. While Vol. 3 falls short of giving blow-by-blow documentation of the incredible studio-as-an-instrument work Mitchell did to transform For the Roses, Court and Spark, and—most triumphantly—The Hissing of Summer Lawns from jazz-inflected pop-folk records into towering artistic statements (most of the songs here are presented in either spare embryonic versions or funky, recalibrated live takes, with little middle ground). This volume repeatedly demonstrates Mitchell's unerring gift for songwriting that is singular and superlative, as well as her willingness to build sonic scaffolding for those songs that is as complementary as it is challenging. The results are often just as impactful in their simplest renditions (a live acoustic version of "This Flight Tonight" loses the electric filigree and multi-tracked harmony vocals but still can stop traffic), and there are real revelations in the early and alternate versions of these well-known album tracks. In fact, most of these early versions would have made excellent album tracks. "See You Sometime" especially benefits from a loose, swinging airiness that's replaced with a denser arrangement on For the Roses, a streamlined, acoustic demo of "Raised on Robbery" is missing the full-band energy of the final version, but employs some wild background vocals that give the number an entirely different vibe, and a demo of "Help Me"—just Mitchell and a guitar—is breathtaking in its elegance. Despite the strengths of these more straight-ahead versions, Mitchell was clearly going to be dissatisfied with releasing them in forms that were merely "really good," when—with more work in the studio and the multi-track editing suite—they would be transformed into work that was "truly great."  © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

War is Roger Waters' great muse, the impetus for so much of his work, including the semi-autobiographical 1979 opus The Wall. The Final Cut, his last album with Pink Floyd, functioned as an explicit sequel to The Wall, but 1992's Amused to Death acts as something of a coda, a work where Waters revisits his obsessions -- both musical and lyrical -- and ties them together with the masterful touch of a mature artist. Certainly, Waters' narrative of a society filtering all manners of ugliness through a television screen isn't as sci-fi silly as that of its immediate predecessor Radio K.A.O.S., but a greater point in its favor is that it's a richer affair than that stiff, synthesized relic of the late '80s. Working with Patrick Leonard -- a veteran collaborator of Madonna's who also dabbled with the latter-day David Gilmour-led Pink Floyd -- Waters gives Amused to Death forward momentum, an aspect conspicuously absent from the still, meditative The Final Cut and Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking, both of which seemed to be comprised of song poems. The tunes on Amused aren't quite hooky or melodic but they do have structure, as does the production by Waters, Leonard, and Nick Griffiths. The tapestry of found sounds, choirs, televisions, washes of organ, lonely acoustic guitars, and blues leads by Jeff Beck does recall Floyd at their '70s peak, but Amused to Death sounds grander and more expansive; it's a creature of the CD age, using up every one of its available 72 minutes. At this length, it's a mere ten minutes shorter than The Wall, and although it can sometimes feel indulgent, it never feels excessive. Unlike the other two Waters solo albums -- or The Final Cut, which is a Waters project masquerading as a Floyd album -- Amused to Death feels cohesive and complete as an anti-war rock opera. If it winds up being Waters' last original rock album, so be it: it is a masterpiece in the sense that it brings together all of his obsessions in one grand, but not unwieldy, package.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Among revolutionary rock albums, Van Halen's debut often gets short shrift. Although it altered perceptions of what the guitar could do, it is not spoken of in the same reverential tones as Are You Experienced? and although it set the template for how rock & roll sounded for the next decade or more, it isn't seen as an epochal generational shift, like Led Zeppelin, The Ramones, The Rolling Stones, or Never Mind the Bollocks Here's the Sex Pistols, which was released just the year before. But make no mistake, Van Halen is as monumental, as seismic as those records, but part of the reason it's never given the same due is that there's no pretension, nothing self-conscious about it. In the best sense, it is an artless record, in the sense that it doesn't seem contrived, but it's also a great work of art because it's an effortless, guileless expression of what the band is all about, and what it would continue to be over the years. The band did get better, tighter, over the years -- peaking with their sleek masterpiece 1984, where there was no fat, nothing untidy -- but everything was in place here, from the robotic pulse of Michael Anthony and Alex Van Halen, to the gonzo shtick of David Lee Roth to the astonishing guitar of Eddie Van Halen. There may have been antecedents to this sound -- perhaps you could trace Diamond Dave's shuck-n-jive to Black Oak Arkansas' Jim Dandy, the slippery blues-less riffs hearken back to Aerosmith -- but Van Halen, to this day, sounds utterly unprecedented, as if it was a dispatch from a distant star. Some of the history behind the record has become rock lore: Eddie may have slowed down Cream records to a crawl to learn how Clapton played "Crossroads" -- the very stuff legends are made of -- but it's hard to hear Clapton here. It's hard to hear anybody else really, even with the traces of their influences, or the cover of "You Really Got Me," which doesn't seem as if it were chosen because of any great love of the Kinks, but rather because that riff got the crowd going. And that's true of all 11 songs here: they're songs designed to get a rise out of the audience, designed to get them to have a good time, and the album still crackles with energy because of it. Sheer visceral force is one thing, but originality is another, and the still-amazing thing about Van Halen is how it sounds like it has no fathers. Plenty other bands followed this template in the '80s, but like all great originals Van Halen doesn't seem to belong to the past and it still sounds like little else, despite generations of copycats. Listen to how "Runnin' with the Devil" opens the record with its mammoth, confident riff and realize that there was no other band that sounded this way -- maybe Montrose or Kiss were this far removed from the blues, but they didn't have the down-and-dirty hedonistic vibe that Van Halen did; Aerosmith certainly had that, but they were fueled by blooze and boogie, concepts that seem alien here. Everything about Van Halen is oversized: the rhythms are primal, often simple, but that gives Dave and Eddie room to run wild, and they do. They are larger than life, whether it's Dave strutting, slyly spinning dirty jokes and come-ons, or Eddie throwing out mind-melting guitar riffs with a smile. And of course, this record belongs to Eddie, just like the band's very name does. There was nothing, nothing like his furious flurry of notes on his solos, showcased on "Eruption," a startling fanfare for his gifts. He makes sounds that were unimagined before this album, and they still sound nearly inconceivable. But, at least at this point, these songs were never vehicles for Van Halen's playing; they were true blue, bone-crunching rockers, not just great riffs but full-fledged anthems, like "Jamie's Cryin'," "Atomic Punk," and "Ain't Talkin' Bout Love," songs that changed rock & roll and still are monolithic slabs of rock to this day. They still sound vital, surprising, and ultimately fun -- and really revolutionary, because no other band rocked like this before Van Halen, and it's still a giddy thrill to hear them discover a new way to rock on this stellar, seminal debut.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

With Wallflower, Diana Krall has made a journey to the wellspring of pop. For this album, coming out on Verve, the Canadian singer and pianist revisits tracks that were made famous by The Mamas & The Papas, Elton John, the Eagles, the Carpenters, Gilbert O’Sullivan, 10CC, Randy Newman, Crowded House, Bob Dylan and the Beatles. Diana Krall lends this collection charm, class and refinement which are all her own… © CM/Qobuz