Scaled smaller than 2012's double-album Privateering, Tracker also feels suitably subtle, easing its way into being instead of announcing itself with a thunder. Such understatement is typical of Mark Knopfler, particularly in the third act of his career. When he left Dire Straits behind, he also left behind any semblance of playing for the cheap seats in an arena, but Tracker feels quieter than his new millennial norm. Some of this is due to the undercurrent of reflection tugging at the record's momentum. Knopfler isn't pining for the past but he is looking back, sometimes wistfully, sometimes with a resigned smile, and he appropriately draws upon sounds that he's long loved. Usually, this means some variation of pub rock -- the languid ballad "River Towns," the lazy shuffle "Skydiver," the two-chord groove of "Broken Bones" -- but this is merely the foundation from which Knopfler threads in a fair amount of olde British folk and other roots digressions. This delicate melancholy complements echoes of older Knopfler songs -- significant stretches of the record are reminiscent of the moodier aspects of Brothers in Arms, while "Beryl" has just a bit of the "Sultans of Swing" bounce -- and this skillful interweaving of Knopfler's personal past helps give Tracker a nicely gentle resonance.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Blue Note has established itself as the most iconic jazz brand in the contemporary music industry. However, it’s been a while since the label has participated in the aesthetic hybridisation that characterises modern music and opened up to more multifaceted artists; for example, those who flirt with hip-hop (Robert Glasper) pop (Norah Jones) or country (Bill Frisell). This project, conceived and overseen by the great producer Larry Klein (Joni Mitchell, Melody Gardot, Tracy Chapman, Madeleine Peyroux—his list of collaborations is endless…) under the Blue Note banner, is unquestionably part of this trend. It pays tribute to legendary Canadian songwriter Leonard Cohen, inviting a host of prestigious singers from all stylistic backgrounds to cover some of his most beautiful songs (spanning some fifty years’ worth of recordings). Larry Klein successfully ensures the coherence and aesthetic continuity of the album by providing each vocalist with the same small ‘jazz’ band, composed around two ‘house artists’ (the great guitarist Bill Frisell and the young Afro-American saxophonist Immanuel Wilkins, the label’s rising star).There’s no lack of taste or intensity throughout these 12 covers, alternating great hits (‘Suzanne’ by Gregory Porter, another of the label’s heavyweights; ‘Hallelujah’ by Sarah McLachlan) with lesser-known songs (‘Coming Back to You’, beautifully interpreted by James Taylor in an unusually low register; ‘You Want It Darker’, which is lifted by Iggy Pop’s vocals). No matter what you’re looking for, you’ll find it on this album. From Norah Jones to Peter Gabriel, the record certainly features an extensive musical palette… It’s hard not to fall in love with the soulful version of ‘If It Be You Will’ by Mavis Staples and the sublimely sombre cover of ‘Famous Blue Raincoat’ by Nathaniel Rateliff. This is a real artistic success! © Stéphane Ollivier/Qobuz

It may not come as a surprise to learn that Beth Hart has dedicated an entire album to tackling LED Zeppelin’s monumental repertoire. After all, she’s always sneaking Whole Lotta Love covers into her concerts (Slash even joined her in 2010). Few people can cover Robert Plant's vocals without missing the mark, but this Californian musician is one of them. Rob Cavallo soon recognised this when he heard her improvising on LED Zep whilst recording her last album War in My Mind (2019). The American producer was already working on an idea for an album; it was led by sound engineer Doug McKean and featured handpicked musicians: Tim Pierce on guitar (Bruce Springsteen, Tina Turner), Chris Chaney on bass (Rob Zombie, Slash), Jamie Muhoberac on keyboards (Bob Dylan, Rolling stones) and Dorian Crozier on drums (Céline Dion, Joe Cocker). This tribute starts off strong with Beth's favourite Whole Lotta Love, which she absolutely nails. This track is followed by a line-up of hits from Page and Plant’s repertoire: Kashmir, Stairway to Heaven, Black Dog… Although Dave Campbell’s glitzy arrangements might not be for everyone–especially die-hard LED Zeppelin fans–this tribute proves that Beth Hart, whose raspy, powerful voice is not unlike that of Janis Joplin and Aretha Franklin, is majorly underestimated. © Charlotte Saintoin/Qobuz

The music by Pierre Sancan on this album is all but unknown, even in France, and it may seem quite a surprise, even with the star power of the popular pianist Jean-Efflam Bavouzet, that it turned up on classical best-seller lists in the spring of 2023. The only possible explanation is that the music is a total delight. Sancan was a teacher of Bavouzet, among others, as well as a pianist; even the booklet here offers the disclaimer that he was born too late and wrote neoclassic music in the middle of the 20th century. It would be nice if the discourse could get away from this idea, the notion of inevitable progress being quaintly Victorian by now. In any event, the music is lively and light in spirit. Those who enjoy the similarly underrated Jean Françaix will love Sancan, but the most remarkable feature is that Sancan wrote truly virtuosic music. It is very French, not keyboard-banging virtuoso music in the Russian sense, but its technical demands are considerable. There is a fine piano concerto and some short piano pieces (hear the two-minute Boîte à musique), but the real highlight is the three-movement Sonatine for flute and piano, where the two instruments interlock in difficult skittering figures. Bavouzet surely knows this music better than anyone else, and his performance here with flutist Adam Walker is wholly compelling. This is a unique document, a wonderful window into a French tradition too often dismissed as academic.© James Manheim /TiVo

None of Miles Davis' recordings has been more shrouded in mystery than Jack Johnson, yet none has better fulfilled Davis' promise that he could form the "greatest rock band you ever heard." Containing only two tracks, the album was assembled out of no less than four recording sessions between February 18, 1970 and June 4, 1970, and was patched together by producer Teo Macero. Most of the outtake material ended up on Directions, Big Fun, and elsewhere. The first misconception is the lineup: the credits on the recording are incomplete. For the opener, "Right Off," the band is Davis, John McLaughlin, Billy Cobham, Herbie Hancock, Michael Henderson, and Steve Grossman (no piano player!), which reflects the liner notes. This was from the musicians' point of view, in a single take, recorded as McLaughlin began riffing in the studio while waiting for Davis; it was picked up on by Henderson and Cobham, Hancock was ushered in to jump on a Hammond organ (he was passing through the building), and Davis rushed in at 2:19 and proceeded to play one of the longest, funkiest, knottiest, and most complex solos of his career. Seldom has he cut loose like that and played in the high register with such a full sound. In the meantime, the interplay between Cobham, McLaughlin, and Henderson is out of the box, McLaughlin playing long, angular chords centering around E. This was funky, dirty rock & roll jazz. The groove gets nastier and nastier as the track carries on and never quits, though there are insertions by Macero of two Davis takes on Sly Stone tunes and an ambient textured section before the band comes back with the groove, fires it up again, and carries it out. On "Yesternow," the case is far more complex. There are two lineups, the one mentioned above, and one that begins at about 12:55. The second lineup was Davis, McLaughlin, Jack DeJohnette, Chick Corea, Bennie Maupin, Dave Holland, and Sonny Sharrock. The first 12 minutes of the tune revolve around a single bass riff lifted from James Brown's "Say It Loud, I'm Black and I'm Proud." The material that eases the first half of the tune into the second is taken from "Shhh/Peaceful," from In a Silent Way, overdubbed with the same trumpet solo that is in the ambient section of "Right Off." It gets more complex as the original lineup is dubbed back in with a section from Davis' tune "Willie Nelson," another part of the ambient section of "Right Off," and an orchestral bit of "The Man Nobody Saw" at 23:52, before the voice of Jack Johnson (by actor Brock Peters) takes the piece out. The highly textured, nearly pastoral ambience at the end of the album is a fitting coda to the chilling, overall high-energy rockist stance of the album. Jack Johnson is the purest electric jazz record ever made because of the feeling of spontaneity and freedom it evokes in the listener, for the stellar and inspiring solos by McLaughlin and Davis that blur all edges between the two musics, and for the tireless perfection of the studio assemblage by Miles and producer Macero.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

42 years old, still alive and kicking, and already receiving an homage! Yes, we know…but not everyone’s Adam Green. The offbeat genius from New York, daydreaming artist and anti-folk songwriter at once, has towed along his imperfectly beautiful melodies and his nonchalance unpretentiously since the 2000s. From the ragged and whimsical underground, lo-fi rock of the Moldy Peaches, which he formed alongside Kimya Dawson, made popular by the soundtrack to Juno (2007), to his solo career, studded with masterpieces, including his first album Friends of Mine (2002), this living legend, from the shadows, inspired an entire generation to become more famous than he did. It’s these very artists who are shining a light on his body of work, still unfinished. More than twenty artists, including The Lemon Twigs, Father John Misty, Devendra Banhart and Binki Shapiro (who both appeared in Green’s surrealist papier-mâché film Aladdin), The Libertines, Herman Düne, and Vincent Delerm, put their spin on Green’s tracks in a moving love letter that makes you want to dive back into his beautiful and overlooked discography. © Charlotte Saintoin/Qobuz 

For the third installment in Bungie's blockbuster Halo series, composers Martin O'Donnell and Michael Salvatori offer up a whole new world of themes, while still maintaining the orchestral, modern rock foundation of the first two volumes. This time around, the beloved "Master Chief" has been replaced by a ragtag crew of "ODST" (Orbital Drop Shock Troopers), and while the objective remains the same (kill or avoid the "Covenant"), the action takes place primarily among humans, and as the player navigates the streets of occupied "New Mombasa," moody strings, jazzy piano, and even saxophone provide accompaniment. As the action ramps up, so does the music (the back end of Halo 3: ODST will feel more familiar to fans than the front), but it's the early moments that set this collection of video game music apart. One doesn't require knowledge of the game to enjoy the score, as it's got an atmosphere all its own. © James Christopher Monger /TiVo

Very few musicians have had careers as diverse and exploratory as Ryuichi Sakamoto. From his early days of pioneering synth-pop with Yellow Magic Orchestra through a solo career that has encompassed contemporary classical, new wave, avant-garde electronics, movie scores, dance pop, and even bossa nova, Sakamoto has fearlessly punctured genre boundaries and infused all of his work with a sense of delicate style and insatiable curiosity. Now in his 70s and facing a recurring cancer diagnosis, he has approached the twilight of his career in the same way he has worked for the past 40-plus years: accepting praise and plaudits with graciousness, but refusing to either slow down (he has scored a half-dozen films in the last couple of years) or get mired in nostalgia. The approach of this tribute album is a perfect example. While a set like this is long overdue for an artist of Sakamoto's stature and prodigiousness, it steadfastly refuses to take an easy or obvious path with its material. It could have easily run to twice this length, but the concision of including just 13 wildly divergent pieces reworked by 13 wildly divergent artists makes To the Moon and Back remarkably effective as a reflection of Sakamoto's oeuvre. The range of contributors speaks to Sakamoto's influence; whether contemporaries and longtime collaborators including David Sylvian, Otomo Yoshihide, Fennesz, and Alva Noto, early disciples like Cornelius, or a dizzying kaleidoscope of fans including Thundercat, Hildur Guðnadóttir, Devonte Hynes, and others, there is no connective tissue in the lineup other than the same sense of sonic adventure that has driven Sakamoto's output. Unsurprisingly, the renditions (all dubbed "remodels") often bear little resemblance to the source material they are honoring, and instead are rendered unrecognizable or, in some cases, built upon a single core element of the original. "Grains," originally a wordless, ambient work Sakamoto did with Noto, is used as a foundation over which Sylvain sings.  Inversely, the Sylvian/Sakamoto song that's perhaps the most well-known—"Forbidden Colours"—gets redone by Gabrial Wek as an ambient piece. The rest of the album is similarly defiant of expectations. 1989's Beauty—perhaps Sakamoto's most explicitly "pop" album—is represented here by "Amore," which Fennesz turns into a hazy drone of synth washes and distorted melodies, while the iconic "Thousand Knives" gets recast by Thundercat into, well, a Thundercat song, full of wobbly, bubbly bass, atmospheric noodling, and cooing vocals. Even "Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence," which practically serves as Sakamoto's musical calling card, gets redone as a stark minimalist number that utilizes the original's indelible piano motif, but shifts it to something that evokes the synthetics of YMO. While Sakamoto may be feeling a bit reflective these days, this delightful combination provides plenty of evidence of how forward-looking his impact continues to be. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

Nuc, the latest album from the Ligeti Quartet and British composer Anna Meredith, is an eclectic and exciting collaboration that showcases the group's versatility and innovation. Known for their boundary-pushing programming, the Ligeti Quartet's partnership with Meredith, who combines classical, electronic, and pop music in her compositions, is a natural fit.The album's opening track, "Tuggemo," sets the tone for what's to come, with free-form sliding passages giving way to a pumping synth line and a semi-electronic dance track before returning to glissando madness. The quartet performs new works by Meredith, as well as reimagined versions of previous tracks, such as "Honeyed Words" and "Nautilus," both from her 2016 debut album Varmints.While some parts on Nuc may be challenging for the average listener, the quartet allows for moments of reflection, such as the soothing "Blackfriars," a respite before the rousing conclusion "Nautilus." Violist Richard Jones deserves credit for his impressive reinterpretations of Meredith's previous work, making tracks like "Shill" and "Blackfriars" naturally reflective of the quartet’s stylistic values.Throughout Nuc, the Ligeti Quartet showcases their full range of skills, from woozying glissandi and snappy pizzicato to soaring harmonics and just plain and simple, beautiful melodies. Meredith's fantastical musical cosmos is brought to life through the quartet's performance, resulting in a magical and innovative exhibit of the finest in contemporary music. The arresting Nuc highlights the talents of two pioneers in the contemporary classical music scene; with their innovative programming and genre-bending compositions, the Ligeti Quartet and Anna Meredith have created something truly unique and captivating. Qobuzissime!  © Jessica Porter-Langson/Qobuz

When you link your musical objective to a jazz icon like Ben Webster, certain expectations are created and, as here, rarely are these expectations met. Certainly, Jacintha sings songs Webster played, and she sings them very nicely. But there's none of the raspy timbre in her voice that made Webster's saxophone immediately recognizable. Jacintha confuses raspy with singing softly. She and the producers would have been better served by presenting these songs as hers, not Webster's. The focus then would be where it belongs (i.e., what she does with these classics). With excellent pitch, good diction, and sensitive interpretations of the lyrics, she makes these songs her own. One highlight is her a cappella treatment of "Danny Boy." Throughout the session, Jacintha receives solid support from veteran Teddy Edwards' blues-drenched saxophone (he's a lot closer to Webster than Jacintha is). He and Jacintha work well together, as on "How Long Has This Been Going On?" The venerable drummer Larance Marable and bass player Darek Oles combine to lay a solid, sensitive foundation for the proceedings. Oles' bass is especially prominent on "Over the Rainbow." Former Miles Davis pianist Kei Akagi is a capable accompanist. This album is a solid enough effort solely on the strength of Jacintha's natural talent. The obeisance to Webster was not only unnecessary, but distracting. © Dave Nathan /TiVo

Given Alison Krauss' tremendous popularity and her status as the first female bluegrass singer to cross over into genuine pop marketability, and given the fact that her guitarist, Dan Tyminski, is the voice behind "Man of Constant Sorrow" (or at least the version that served as an idée fixe in the blockbuster movie O Brother, Where Art Thou?), a live album was inevitable. That it should be a two-disc set can simply be chalked up to good luck. Unless you're a bluegrass purist, that is, looking for music that preserves the traditional Appalachian sounds of Ralph Stanley and Bill Monroe. Listeners of that mindset will be bitterly disappointed by the presence of modern singer/songwriter fare ("Lucky One," "Let Me Touch You for a While"), by the drums on "Oh, Atlanta," and, most of all, by those dreadful call-and-response vocals on the chorus of "Man of Constant Sorrow" (which, you can hear them sniff, Tyminski takes at about twice the appropriate speed). All of this would explain why bluegrass purists are no fun to be around and, one suspects, don't have very much fun in private either. The simple fact is that every time Krauss opens her mouth to sing, angels stop what they're doing and take notes. There may be no musical pleasure quite as pure and sweet as listening to Krauss sing "Baby, Now That I've Found You" or "When You Say Nothing at All." And when she starts in on the impossibly beautiful gospel tune "Down to the River to Pray," the effect is almost disturbingly moving. Which brings listeners to the problem with this album, which is the amount of time it spends on stuff other than Alison Krauss singing great songs. The instrumental bits, the Jerry Douglas showcases, and Tyminski's requisite rendition of "Man of Constant Sorrow" are all fine, but they end up feeling like filler. Still, this album can be solidly recommended to modern bluegrass fans in general and to Krauss' many fans in particular. © Rick Anderson /TiVo

Drummer Paul Motian, who emerged with the Bill Evans trio in the 1950s and died in 2011 at age 80, was a masterful performer with a fluid rhythmic sensibility that helped to free up the modern jazz tradition and make it more amenable to open time-keeping and unexpected textures. It's that lasting influence that is the focus of saxophonist Joe Lovano and guitarist Jakob Bro's 2022 collaboration Once Around the Room: A Tribute to Paul Motian. Though separated by a generation, both artists have their own deep ties to Motian: the elder Lovano worked in one of the drummer's later trios featuring Bill Frisell, and Bro was a member of Motian's band that recorded 2006's Garden of Eden. Here they are joined by a cadre of like-minded artists, including bassists Larry Grenadier, Thomas Morgan, and Anders Christensen, as well as drummers Joey Baron and Jorge Rossy. Together, they commune over a series of original compositions inspired by Motian's work. The sole Motian piece that they tackle is the fittingly titled "Drum Music," a song Lovano originally recorded on Motian's 1985 album Jack of Clubs with Frisell. Beginning with a roiling drum solo, the song soon gives way to a boppish melody that Lovano and Bro play in unison with a guttural intensity. Later, Bro takes a solo, distorting his guitar sound with fractured, overdriven effects like a robotic sitar. Lovano responds in kind, spitting out a long volley of notes that sound like paint being scratched off a wall. The originals are no less adventurous, moving from Lovano's "As It Should Be" with its droney bass and echoey sax and guitar interplay to the spectral group improv of "Sound Creation," where Bro's crystalline chords and Lovano's mournful sax lines merge into a wave of shimmering, fractal space noise. Equally compelling is Lovano's "For the Love of Paul," a bluesy, off-kilter number that combines the rambling free-bop style of Ornette Coleman with the stop-start phrasing of Thelonious Monk. There's also Bro's "Song to an Old Friend," a delicate ballad that has the far-eyed introspection of a Radiohead song. All of this evokes the boundaryless creative spirit of Motian.© Matt Collar /TiVo