With Paranoïa, Angels, True Love, Christine And The Queens embarks on a long spiritual journey, with Madonna as their guiding high priestess. The two artists met in 2015 during a concert by the American, when Madonna had invited him to go on stage to choreograph a few dance steps. For this album, Christine And the Queens called on her to speak instead of sing. Seduced by the sheer madness of the project, Madonna agreed to take part in three songs (Angels Crying in My Bed, I Met an Angel and Lick the Light Out). Christine And The Queens wanted to salute this iconic voice "which speaks with all the facets inscribed in our consciousness, taking on multiple forms and roles, from the maternal figure to the dominatrix". As for the second feature of the album, the American singer and rapper 070 Shake, who can be heard on True Love and Let Me Touch You Once, makes an appearance. The spiritual form of Paranoïa, Angels, True Love owes a lot to the music produced by Mike Dean (who works with Jay-Z and Beyoncé). Often coated with a trip hop colour that reflects the multiple influences of Christine And The Queens, the tracks cede the place of honour to spectrally high strings and ecstatic electric guitar solos. We also hear a mystical cover of Canon de Pachelbel (Full of Life). Finally, this album is a way for Christine and the Queens to showcase the full range of their voice, which has never been so mixed and reverberated, for it to have maximum effect (A Day in the Water). Paranoia, Angels, True Love can be perceived as the singer's tribute to a highly determined English-speaking pop, but the air of strange musical comedy shows that this resolutely atypical object belongs only to them. © Nicolas Magenham/Qobuz

An absolute delight, the first full-length album from singer-songwriter supergroup boygenius truly plays to its members' individual and collective strengths. (Credits extend to Autolux's Carla Azar on drums and Jay Som's Melina Duterte on bass.) Each is allowed to shine equally, taking lead on their own songs—but also bring out surprising, shining qualities in the others. "True Blue" sounds like a track from one of Lucy Dacus' solo records, filled out with pure harmonies and grand, low-key drama. Dacus is brilliant at pinpointing fine, evocative details—bandmate Phoebe Bridgers says of her, "Lucy's a noticer"—and there's no shortage in this tale of real, messy friendship that thrills and bruises: "When you moved to Chicago/ You were spinning out … When you called me from the train/ Water freezing in your eyes/ You were happy and I wasn't surprised." Julien Baker's vibrant "$20," likewise, delivers her trademark nervous edge, but the trio take it to unexpected places: First, Bridgers and Dacus thread a gossamer string of ethereal sweetness through Baker's earthiness; later, the three sing over each other in a glorious round robin of conversation until Bridgers, desperate to get her message across, shreds her throat raw yelling out "Can you give me $20?!" They trade lines on "Not Strong Enough," playing around with Cure guitars (acknowledged in Baker's verse: "Drag racing through the canyon/ Singing 'Boys Don't Cry'") and interpolating Sheryl Crow ("Not strong enough to be your man/ I tried, I can't"). That one builds to an excellent '80s anthemic bridge, with the three chanting "Always an angel, never a god." "Cool About It" summons a Simon & Garfunkel-style folk melody and layers on 2023 cleverness with thoughts like, "I took your medication to know what it's like/ Now I have to act like I can't read your mind." "Satanist" delights in off-kilter and herky-jerky chords à la early Weezer, before sliding sideways into a woozy dreamscape. Even a tossed-off lark like "Without You Without Them"—with sweet, a capella Andrews Sisters harmonies—charms. Bridgers' "Emily I'm Sorry" is particularly moody and moving, while stoic "We're in Love" is a stark portrait of Dacus and a guitar for nearly eight tear-jerking minutes before the others float in for support. Perhaps the most revealing is "Leonard Cohen," so intimate you can hear fingers sliding on strings. It's a true story about the trio's friendship and a time Bridgers was so excited to play an Iron and Wine song for her bandmates that she lost track of her surroundings. "On the on-ramp you said/ 'If you love me you will listen to this song'/ And I could tell you were serious/ So I didn't tell you you were driving the wrong way on the interstate/ Until the song was done," Dacus sings, before showing off their grateful love for each other: "Never thought you'd happen to me." © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz 

Kacey Musgraves' sixth album, Deeper Well feels like a rewind—not just to her own earlier work, but to a folk-scene era from well before she was born. There are shades of the Mamas and the Papas and the early 1960s Cafe Wha? scene (the album was recorded blocks away, at Greenwich Village’s Electric Lady Studios). It’s not not country, but it’s also far from cowboy-hatted Nashville. Musgraves has described her last record—her "divorce album"—2021's Star-Crossed, as "more dramatic and acerbic, there were a lot more electronic instruments." This time, she's tuning into the world around her, but also trying to figure out the secrets of the cosmos. "My saturn has returned," she sings on the title track—a bit of classic singer-songwriter acoustic pluck that gently tumbles like water over creek rocks—before metaphorically shuddering at someone's "dark energy." Folk-naif "Heart of the Woods" marvels at nature "communicating through the roots of the trees." "I saw a sign or an omen," she declares on "Cardinal," a Hollies-esque number with 12-string guitar and a round-robin bridge. Musgraves has said it's about a real-life pattern of seeing birds and wondering if they were a sign from friend John Prine after the legend passed away in 2020. The bulk of the songs are written with her co-producers Ian Fitchuk, who worked on her last few records, and Daniel Tashian, who also helped out on 2018’s excellent Golden Hour. (It’s no stretch to imagine Star-Crossed never having happened and Deeper Well being the natural progression from Golden Hour.) "The Architect" is the only song here penned with her longtime writing partner Shane McAnally; and yes, it feels a bit more countrified than the others. Musgraves' Texas twang is strong as she questions "are there blueprints or plans?" to life. She adopts a particularly velvet timbre on moody cautionary tale "Lonely Millionaire," which interpolates the song "Kody Blu 31" by Atlanta rapper JID. "Too Good To Be True" borrows from Anna Nalick's "Breathe (2AM)," while "Heaven Is" reimagines a Scottish folk traditional. And Musgraves hasn't abandoned the rebel spirit that got her "Follow Your Arrow" banned from country radio in 2013. "Dinner With Friends" is a dreamy, free-floating gratitude list—"The feeling you feel when you're looking at something you made/ The layers and ruffles in my favorite pink champagne cake"—that calls out "My home state of Texas/ The sky there, the horses and dogs/ But none of their laws." There's not much dynamic range on Deeper Well; Musgraves is in a pleasantly pretty, low-key mood throughout. But there is one stand-out "what was that?!" moment at the bridge of "Anime Eyes," when the love song explodes in a whirlwind psychedelic bridge, as Musgraves breathlessly lets loose with a torrent of sensory emotion: "Ridiculous hazy, crazy, rainbow, explosions of ecstasy ... Happy tears overflowing, lightning bolts so overwhelming!" It's wild and free and DGAF. The album ends, tellingly, on a line from the song of the same name: "Nothing to be scared of." © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

True Blue is the album where Madonna truly became Madonna the Superstar -- the endlessly ambitious, fearlessly provocative entertainer who knew how to outrage, spark debates, get good reviews -- and make good music while she's at it. To complain that True Blue is calculated is to not get Madonna -- that's a large part of what she does, and she is exceptional at it, but she also makes fine music. What's brilliant about True Blue is that she does both here, using the music to hook in critics just as she's baiting a mass audience with such masterstrokes as "Papa Don't Preach," where she defiantly states she's keeping her baby. Her real trick here, however, is transcending her status as a dance-pop diva by consciously recalling classic girl group pop ("True Blue," "Jimmy Jimmy") to snag the critics, while deepening the dance grooves ("Open Your Heart," "Where's the Party"), touching on Latin rhythms ("La Isla Bonita"), making a plea for world peace ("Love Makes the World Go Round"), and delivering a tremendous ballad that rewrites the rules of adult contemporary crossover ("Live to Tell"). It's even harder to have the entire album play as an organic, cohesive work. Certainly, there's some calculation behind the entire thing, but what matters is the end result, one of the great dance-pop albums, a record that demonstrates Madonna's true skills as a songwriter, record-maker, provocateur, and entertainer through its wide reach, accomplishment, and sheer sense of fun.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Yusuf is a talented singer and songwriter with an interesting past – in the 1960s and '70s he was the internationally famous pop singer Cat Stevens, whose thoughtful, soulful songs often had a spiritual bent. After the release of his 1978 album Back to Earth, Cat Stevens walked away from his career in music, embracing the Muslim faith and taking the name Yusuf Islam. In 2006, he released the album An Other Cup, credited to Yusuf, that found him gingerly easing back into the folk-influenced pop that made him famous, and since then, Yusuf has been making music that aims to strike a balance between the musical personality of his most famous work and his present-day spiritual focus and his dreams of a more just, peaceful, and generous world. In terms of this match of form and content, 2023's King of a Land may be the best album Yusuf has delivered since returning to popular music (and like his last several releases, it's credited to Yusuf/Cat Stevens, suggesting he's at peace with his musical past while wanting to remind us he's not exactly the man he used to be). Working with Paul Samwell-Smith, who produced the bulk of his 1970s work, on King of a Land Yusuf writes melodies that are more artful than his best-known hits but have a very recognizable warmth, and a mood that finds room for both joy and gravity. The lyrics are open in his devotion to God and our shared need for a more merciful world. The album's artwork features illustrations by Peter H. Reynolds, portraying a young boy in situations that match the stories and themes of the songs, and many of the tunes feel like fables for young and old, songs whose messages are clear but express their lessons with a gentle touch that doesn't feel doctrinaire or judgemental. (Significantly, "Son of Mary" is a compact retelling of the life of Jesus, subtly but firmly affirming that we all worship the same God). King of a Land is not quite pop-folk in the way "Peace Train" or "Moonshadow" were, yet the music is engaging and seems intended to soothe a troubled spirit, and though Yusuf's voice is just a bit sandy around the edges compared to his salad days, his performances are passionate without histrionics and speak of a wisdom he wants to share with all willing to listen. It's a well crafted and often moving album that mixes a bit of Cat Stevens' sound with Yusuf's heart and soul, and it honors both with skill and sincerity.© Mark Deming /TiVo

Four years after the release of her previous album -- an eternity in her discography -- Ariana Grande made a graceful return to the spotlight with her revealing seventh set, Eternal Sunshine. Mostly a response to the headline-grabbing details of her relationships, as usual, the conceptual journey takes listeners through the dissolution of one union (which ended in divorce) and the slow healing that was aided along by the sparks of another (which generated no small amount of controversy). The bulk of the lyrics are a direct reference to the drama, with Grande taking the high road with poise and class, while leaning into any negative perceptions with a wink and some sass. Those tabloid-fodder moments (like "The Boy Is Mine" and "True Story") add some fuel to the flames; however, Grande makes a concerted effort to maintain focus on personal growth through introspection on tracks like the reflective "I Wish I Hated You" and "Don't Wanna Break Up Again," which humanize her into an everywoman promoting healthy self-care tactics like self-soothing and therapy. For those who had been expecting a full-on, house-influenced raver, an album packed with "Yes, And?" style bops won't be found here. Instead, Grande strikes a balance between the warm, lush R&B tones of Positions and Thank U, Next with the lighter, feel-good fare found on Sweetener. "Yes, And?" is indeed the energetic centerpiece of this album, a blissful dose of dancefloor magic that follows the "Express Yourself"/"Born This Way" lineage of ballroom-inspired empowerment anthems. Though not as buoyant, the shimmering "We Can't Be Friends (Wait for Your Love)" is a Robyn-esque slice of neon synths, twinkling production, and throbbing groove, which boosts the bittersweet vulnerability of her lyrics, while the sparkling kiss-off "Bye" keeps the disco revival train chugging along as Grande dances her woes away. Beyond that, Eternal Sunshine sticks close to impeccably produced midtempo songs that highlight her vocal range and the mountain of thoughts she has to get off her chest at such a pivotal stage in her life. It's anything but boring; rather, these tracks hypnotize (the reawakening of "Supernatural"), comfort ("Eternal Sunshine"), and nourish the soul like the titular rays of light ("Imperfect for You"). Closing with the horn-swelled "Ordinary Things," Grande calls on her grandmother Marjorie for some sweet, sage advice about making a relationship last, a touching bit of wisdom to frame the young artist's very adult breakup and the healing, however messy, that followed. After the late-2010s blitz that saw her conquering the charts on an annual basis with output of steadily decreasing quality, the years spent re-centering and growing up were clearly fruitful, resulting in one of her strongest, most cohesive efforts to date. Eternal Sunshine is Grande in peak form, a magical maturation that is elevated, resilient, and confidently restrained.© Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo

At the close of experimental solo careers for both Thom Yorke and Phil Selway, and the film soundtracks of Jonny Greenwood, Radiohead has finally come back to the fold with their ninth studio album. It's proof that talent never leaves you, more than thirty years after the band got together. Talent yes, surprises no. In fact, the biggest surprise on A Moon Shaped Pool is that there is no surprise. The Oxford grown quintet has undoubtedly just released their most "classic" album, almost with their eyes closed. Yorke is omni-present in the sound, and you can hear his influence throughout. As such, it's like listening to an old Radiohead record, without having heard it before. Radiohead have set aside their experimental tendencies in favour of sometimes minimalist, sometimes luxurious arrangements. Even in the most impressive arrangements for strings, Jonny Greenwood seems to be aiming for purity, (see Daydreaming). His diverse works on the 7th Art and, most notably, for the director Paul Thomas Anderson (Greenwood penned the soundtracks to There will be Blood, The Master, and Inherent Vice) have clearly given him a new vision that makes its presence felt. Even on the most intimate tracks (Desert Island Discs), Radiohead maintains a certain majesty, and when they get to post-rock (Full Stop and Present Tense), their musique becomes grandiose. With such an album, Radiohead pushes the legend slightly further, preserves its distinct style, and adds to its already legendary discography.© CM/Qobuz

Even before this fourth Tame Impala album came out, Kevin Parker was, more than ever, everywhere! Kanye West, Kali Uchis, Lady Gaga, Travis Scott, Theophilus London, The Avalanches and a handful of others were lining up to pick the Australian’s brain in one way or another; on his part, the leader of Tame Impala has dazzled the world with his talents since 2007, blending psychedelic rock, XXL rhythms and airtight choruses. However, the ultra-hypnotic psychedelics have been put on mute for The Slow Rush, his sunniest and most hedonistic work to date. There is a serious feel-good factor to this chill, 80s-sounding album which can occasionally sound very FM even slightly cheesy… The fluffy R&B of Hall & Oates and The Bee Gees, the soft art pop/rock of 10cc or Supertramp and the polished finish of early Air music are all clear influences, with the synths tending to eclipse the guitars. But such is Kevin Parker’s talent that he submerges these inspirations in a production that is 100% 2020. The Slow Rush is a formidably effective record, and the catchy Is It True could propel it to dizzying heights. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

White Blood Cells may have been a reaction to the amount of fame the White Stripes had received up to the point of its release, but, paradoxically, it made full-fledged rock stars out of Jack and Meg White and sold over half a million copies in the process. Despite the White Stripes' ambivalence, fame nevertheless seems to suit them: They just become more accomplished as the attention paid to them increases. Elephant captures this contradiction within the Stripes and their music; it's the first album they've recorded for a major label, and it sounds even more pissed-off, paranoid, and stunning than its predecessor. Darker and more difficult than White Blood Cells, the album offers nothing as immediately crowd-pleasing or sweet as "Fell in Love With a Girl" or "We're Going to Be Friends," but it's more consistent, exploring disillusionment and rejection with razor-sharp focus. Chip-on-the-shoulder anthems like the breathtaking opener, "Seven Nation Army," which is driven by Meg White's explosively minimal drumming, and "The Hardest Button to Button," in which Jack White snarls "Now we're a family!" -- one of the best oblique threats since Black Francis sneered "It's educational!" all those years ago -- deliver some of the fiercest blues-punk of the White Stripes' career. "There's No Home for You Here" sets a girl's walking papers to a melody reminiscent of "Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground" (though the result is more sequel than rehash), driving the point home with a wall of layered, Queen-ly harmonies and piercing guitars, while the inspired version of "I Just Don't Know What to Do With Myself" goes from plaintive to angry in just over a minute, though the charging guitars at the end sound perversely triumphant. At its bruised heart, Elephant portrays love as a power struggle, with chivalry and innocence usually losing out to the power of seduction. "I Want to Be the Boy" tries, unsuccessfully, to charm a girl's mother; "You've Got Her in Your Pocket," a deceptively gentle ballad, reveals the darker side of the Stripes' vulnerability, blurring the line between caring for someone and owning them with some fittingly fluid songwriting. The battle for control reaches a fever pitch on the "Fell in Love With a Girl"-esque "Hypnotize," which suggests some slightly underhanded ways of winning a girl over before settling for just holding her hand, and on the show-stopping "Ball and Biscuit," seven flat-out seductive minutes of preening, boasting, and amazing guitar prowess that ranks as one the band's most traditionally bluesy (not to mention sexy) songs. Interestingly, Meg's star turn, "In the Cold, Cold Night," is the closest Elephant comes to a truce in this struggle, her kitten-ish voice balancing the song's slinky words and music. While the album is often dark, it's never despairing; moments of wry humor pop up throughout, particularly toward the end. "Little Acorns" begins with a sound clip of Detroit newscaster Mort Crim's Second Thoughts radio show, adding an authentic, if unusual, Motor City feel. It also suggests that Jack White is one of the few vocalists who could make a lyric like "Be like the squirrel" sound cool and even inspiring. Likewise, the showy "Girl, You Have No Faith in Medicine" -- on which White resembles a garage rock snake-oil salesman -- is probably the only song featuring the word "acetaminophen" in its chorus. "It's True That We Love One Another," which features vocals from Holly Golightly as well as Meg White, continues the Stripes' tradition of closing their albums on a lighthearted note. Almost as much fun to analyze as it is to listen to, Elephant overflows with quality -- it's full of tight songwriting, sharp, witty lyrics, and judiciously used basses and tumbling keyboard melodies that enhance the band's powerful simplicity (and the excellent "The Air Near My Fingers" features all of these). Crucially, the White Stripes know the difference between fame and success; while they may not be entirely comfortable with their fame, they've succeeded at mixing blues, punk, and garage rock in an electrifying and unique way ever since they were strictly a Detroit phenomenon. On these terms, Elephant is a phenomenal success.© Heather Phares /TiVo

“It’s a new decade, I’m in a whole new arena.” Nas knows that times have changed. But he’s at it again: his ability to depict his world and feelings makes him a rapper that is anything but irrelevant, even at 50 years old. His series of collaborations with the producer Hit-Boy continues with Magic 3, an album characterized by its writer’s ability to present himself as a role model, now and forever, and by his incomparable way of avoiding an ego trip. Magic 3 differs from its predecessors. Hit-Boy changes his production paradigm, still based on sampling, yes, but with samples that he modifies only slightly and loops with respect. He can then compose with the original rhythmics, taking away some of the heaviness in order to lean into the variety in the beats. And then, sometimes, just because he feels like it, and also because it’s important to make your voice heard, hip hop reclaims its musical rights, warlike, for example on the track “I Love This Feeling.” The two heavyweights manage, yet again, to draw in the listener thanks to their technique and expertise.  © Brice Miclet/Qobuz

40 melodies for 40 years. Ibrahim Maalouf is celebrating another decade on earth and he’s gone all out. How else would he be able to cover all the sides to his sound? Over the course of his albums and collaborations, the Franco-Lebanese trumpeter’s world has expanded into a fascinating mosaic of jazz, pop, oriental music, French chanson and a thousand other genres. Though what makes this album so great is just how intimate it is. This 12th album stands out from his others. For the first time in his 15-year-long career, Maalouf plays in duet with his old friend – the Belgian guitarist François Delporte. The duo revisit key melodies from the trumpet player’s previous albums and soundtracks. We also find a few previously unreleased tracks. The cherry on the (birthday) cake is the long list of party guests: Sting, Matthieu Chedid, Marcus Miller, Alfredo Rodriguez, Richard Bona, Trilok Gurtu, Jon Batiste and Arturo Sandoval. As shown by his previous records, Ibrahim Maalouf is like a musical crossbreeder. Here, he lays bare his playing, his sound and his relationship to melody and improvisation. Plus, he never forgets about Delporte, whose guitar isn’t just ornamental. The brilliance of Maalouf’s playing becomes even more obvious in this minimalist setting. While in the past it has been hidden amongst heavily orchestrated, heavily arranged and heavily produced works, it sounds here almost like a confession. One that’s swathed in emotion, especially in the context of a wounded Beirut and crumbling Lebanon… With just a melody, just a trumpet and guitar, Ibrahim Maalouf floats through various landscapes and eras on what might just be one of his best recordings yet. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

Flesh + Blood suggested that Roxy Music were at the end of the line, but they regrouped and recorded the lovely Avalon, one of their finest albums. Certainly, the lush, elegant soundscapes of Avalon are far removed from the edgy avant-pop of their early records, yet it represents another landmark in their career. With its stylish, romantic washes of synthesizers and Bryan Ferry's elegant, seductive croon, Avalon simultaneously functioned as sophisticated make-out music for yuppies and as the maturation of synth pop. Ferry was never this romantic or seductive, either with Roxy or as a solo artist, and Avalon shimmers with elegance in both its music and its lyrics. "More Than This," "Take a Chance with Me," "While My Heart Is Still Beating," and the title track are immaculately crafted and subtle songs, where the shifting synthesizers and murmured vocals gradually reveal the melodies. It's a rich, textured album and a graceful way to end the band's career.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo