As much as jazz musicians love to do it, the Christmas album exercise can quickly turn stale. Especially when you opt for a repertoire essentially composed of hits like Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, Oh Christmas Tree, Il est né le divin enfant, Petit Papa Noël, Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow, Silent Night and Jingle Bells. But here, Ibrahim Maalouf has managed to create an impeccable record that gives his trumpet an even better showcase than usual. The starting point of the project is a set of very personal values. "It's an album of 25 great Christmas standards and 3 new songs that I wrote to celebrate both my son's very first Christmas and my grandmother Odette's very last one last year. My memories of Christmas are full of wonderful moments and I wanted to record the album in a way that would capture the magic of those moments.“For this classical, touching effort, Maalouf brought in three friends: guitarist François Delporte, pianist Frank Woeste and choir director Sofi Jeannin, who has selected eight singers with angelic voices. The whole group met in two different recording locations: Armand Amar's Babel studios in Montreuil, where Ibrahim Maalouf worked on his first albums, and the Saint-Julien-le-Pauvre church, the oldest church in Paris, a few metres from Notre-Dame, where his father was sacristan in the 1960s; it was also where the trumpeter got engaged and married...Bolstered by all these strong symbols, First Noël moves forward with simplicity and humility, emphasising the melodies above all, without any kind of Hollywood arrangements. "After having recorded so many albums, I felt that the time had come to set down my version of these great Christmas classics, giving them a less childish, more musical dimension, and a more spiritual aspect as well: but at the same time preserving their necessary and subtle fragility as music for children, and as great classics known and sung worldwide.” The end result is a soothing, dreamlike, fraternal and universal journey. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

With her second album My Everything, Ariana Grande already made a clean sweep of awards in 2014. Four years later, now 25 years old, she seems more comfortable than ever on Sweetener, a multi-textured pop album. The young woman, who had a tendency to lose herself in weeping lyrical musings, has found a new path on which she’s able to lay out her strong personality. Behind her angelic face hides a fierce predator, capable of venturing onto risky territories. She doesn’t appear unfazed by Pharrell Williams on their retro 90’s duo Blazed. Ariana Grande knows how to take her rightful place, even with the queen Nicki Minaj, who confronted her in a hip-hop test (The Light Is Coming). With REM and God Is a Woman, there is no longer any doubt. The young singer blurs boundaries and expands her musical field to the point of embodying a goddess. But the charm of Ariana Grande is the ease and humility with which she plays with her various facets. Kitsch and romantic, intense and funny, Sweetener is without a doubt the album that resembles her the most, by its fantasy, and the fact that she composed ten out of the fifteen tracks or so. As a confirmed singer-songwriter, Grande now joins the next level with a solid album, but not as experimental and scattered as her previous ones. © Anna Coluthe/Qobuz

“D” like deconstruction. “E” like Everett. One might have thought Mark Oliver was blackening the last pages of his twenty-year-old alphabet book with the introspective The Cautionary Tales Of Mark Oliver Everett, released in 2014. Four years have gone by. And unsurprisingly for this twelfth chapter, the hypersensitive artist with a coral voice has composed an absolute gem. A fine and beautiful showpiece. With folk embroideries, arranged pop, hemstitched silences (Premonition) and sensual strings (The Epiphany), The Deconstruction oscillates back and forth between emotional auroras (Be Hurt) and scruffy rock trepidations (Today Is The Day, You're The Shining Light). To top it off, the multi-instrumentalist surrounded himself with great talent and met up with long-time collaborators in the Compound Studios, in California: bassist and keyboarder Koool G Murder (Kelly Logsdon) and P-Boo (Mike Sawitzke), as well as the Deconstruction Orchestra & Choir, and Mickey Petralia, who also worked on Electro-Schock Blues (1998). Seemingly disjointed, the fifteen tracks that make up the album roll out between lavish orchestrations filled with flutes, organs and keyboards, and bare segments for lyrical declamations (Archie Goodnight), arranging the musical space, accommodating instrumental pauses (The Quandary, The Unanswerable). All for a gracious and optimistic result! © Charlotte Saintoin/Qobuz

Three full years after their last album, Type O Negative finally returned with World Coming Down, a record that might alienate some fans brought on board with October Rust but which actually stands with the best of their work. Many of the songs most closely resemble the dirgier parts of Bloody Kisses -- still melodic, but not as immediately accessible, and taken at crawling tempos that would give Black Sabbath on downers a run for their money. So even if the songs do catch on after a couple of listens, they aren't as bright (relatively speaking, of course) as a great deal of October Rust, in terms of both music and subject matter. That's fine, because World Coming Down seems like more natural territory; even in spite of its many fine moments, October Rust felt like a move toward accessibility that worked in fits but didn't quite achieve everything it wanted to. World Coming Down features most of the Type O Negative staples: sly goth send-ups in "Creepy Green Light" and "All Hallows Eve," which happily wallow in their vampire-movie imagery; another catchy, darkly erotic goth-girl fantasy, "Pyretta Blaze," about the blurry lines between sexual submission and self-obliterating obsession; and, of course, a continuation of the odd-cover-choice gimmick with what's actually a pretty appropriate Beatles medley ("Day Tripper," "If I Needed Someone," and "I Want You [She's So Heavy]"). But there are some real surprises on the record, songs when Steele drops his usual knowing wink and expresses real pain and suffering -- still veiled in sarcasm and melodrama, to be sure, but it's obvious that "Everyone I Love Is Dead," "World Coming Down," and "Everything Dies" were written with firsthand knowledge of their subjects, not as ironic goofs. Sincere or not, Steele's work has always addressed grief, depression, and loneliness beneath his habitual ironic posturing, glum apathy, and general misanthropy; this feels like his most genuine attempt yet to cope with it all, a realization that he can drop the mask if necessary and inject a little more real-life experience into the conventions he simultaneously embraces and mocks. That's what ultimately makes World Coming Down a more affecting record than October Rust, and further proof that there's more going on beneath Type O Negative's surface than most give them credit for.© Steve Huey /TiVo

If you've never heard Blind Willie Johnson, you are in for one of the great, bone-chilling treats in music. Johnson played slide guitar and sang in a rasping, false bass that could freeze the blood. But no bluesman was he; this was gospel music of the highest order, full of emotion and heartfelt commitment. Of all the guitar-playing evangelists, Blind Willie Johnson may have been the very best. Though not related by bloodlines to Robert Johnson, comparisons in the emotional commitment of both men cannot be helped. This two-CD anthology collects everything known to exist, and that's a lot of stark, harrowing, emotional commitment no matter how you slice it. Not for the faint of heart, but hey, the good stuff never is.© Cub Koda /TiVo

Handel’s Messiah has been adored by the English since it premiered. It’s a masterpiece in the British repertoire and has never been eclipsed. It’s been sung in every possible style, in every possible size. “Bigger is better” seems to be the general rule of thumb and the number of musicians and singers has approached the thousands. Attending one of these huge performances, Haydn was inspired to write his own oratorio: Die Schöpfung (The Creation).Recorded in January 2020 in Berlin’s famous Jesus-Christus Church, where so many legendary performances have been recorded, this new version uses the ‘reasonable’ size of its 1742 Dublin premiere. The fabulous RIAS-Kammerchor and the Akademie für Alte Musik in Berlin joined forces for the occasion with an amazing English vocal quartet consisting of Julia Doyle (soprano), Tim Mead (countertenor), Thomas Hobbs (tenor) and Roderick Williams (bass).After their three editions devoted to Handel's Concerti grossi, the Akademie für Alte Musik in Berlin continues to invest in the music of the most English of German composers. Just to give you a taste of what it’s all about, the RIAS-Kammerchor has been led by English choirmaster Justin Doyle since 2016. Here he gives an intimate reading of Messiah, conducting an incredible choir and orchestra that are among the best in the world at performing this music. Berlin was treated to this at the Philharmonie for the 2020 New Year Concert a few days before this recording. © François Hudry/Qobuz

Bringing the Beatles into any discussion or analysis of music since...oh, about 1970 is not only the granddaddy of all rock critic clichés -- it's ultimately pointless because of the seep of the band into every single recess of the world of popular music. Nevertheless, it's almost impossible not to bring the band up when talking about Hate, the Delgados' first release since the much-lauded (and possibly over-hyped) breakthrough release, The Great Eastern. The first giveaway is the track which inspired the album's title, "All You Need Is Hate," which inverts the premise of the original into a bouncy, three-minute pop song which pretty much questions the motivations of everyone who can still draw breath. Even bleaker is "Child Killers," which is the dark flipside of John Lennon's "Imagine," complete with a cop of part of the melody and a sly lyrical reference; while the original song was a hopeful number, "Child Killers" reflects a self-medicating generation without hope of any kind, not even caring if they live or die: "Maybe now I'll find peace in another world" indeed. From a musical perspective, it's hard not to haul out another cliché; each of the songs here is processed, tweaked, and orchestrated into a positively massive (even majestic) sonic epic, bringing to mind albums by the Flaming Lips or Mercury Rev that were released around the same time. If you believe the party line, the Delgados had already fully hammered out the songs before bringing them to producer Dave Fridmann (whose heavy production hand had, indeed, provided much of the sonic signature of both the Flaming Lips and Mercury Rev), and Fridmann's contribution was minimal polish. That's pretty hard to believe when you actually listen to the results, but it's certainly easy to forgive; where The Great Eastern was a fairly gentle and tentative record in a lot of ways, this one is bigger and demands your attention. The good news is that it's one of those rare records that actually deserves all of the attention it demands. © Sean Carruthers /TiVo

Damon Albarn went to great pains to explain that the first Gorillaz album was a collaboration between him, cartoonist Jamie Hewlett, and producer Dan the Automator, but any sort of pretense to having the virtual pop group seem like a genuine collaborative band was thrown out the window for the group's long-awaited 2005 sequel, Demon Days. Hewlett still provides new animation for Gorillaz -- although the proposed feature-length film has long disappeared -- but Dan the Automator is gone, leaving Albarn as the unquestioned leader of the group. This isn't quite similar to Blur, a genuine band that faltered after Graham Coxon decided he had enough, leaving Damon behind to construct the muddled Think Tank largely on his own. No, Gorillaz were always designed as a collective, featuring many contributors and producers, all shepherded by Albarn, the songwriter, mastermind, and ringleader. Hiding behind Hewlett's excellent cartoons gave Albarn the freedom to indulge himself, but it also gave him focus since it tied him to a specific concept. Throughout his career, Albarn always was at his best when writing in character -- to the extent that anytime he wrote confessionals in Blur, they sounded stagy -- and Gorillaz not only gave him an ideal platform, it liberated him, giving him the opportunity to try things he couldn't within the increasingly dour confines of Blur. It wasn't just that the cartoon concept made for light music -- on the first Gorillaz album, Damon sounded as if he were having fun for the first time since Parklife. But 2005 is a much different year than 2001, and if Gorillaz exuded the heady, optimistic, future-forward vibes of the turn of the millennium, Demon Days is as theatrically foreboding as its title, one of the few pop records made since 9/11 that captures the eerie unease of living in the 21st century. Not really a cartoony feel, in other words, but Gorillaz indulged in doom and gloom from their very first single, "Clint Eastwood," so this is not unfamiliar territory, nor is it all that dissimilar from the turgid moodiness of Blur's 2003 Think Tank. But where Albarn seemed simultaneously constrained and adrift on that last Blur album -- attempting to create indie rock, yet unsure how since messiness contradicts his tightly wound artistic impulses -- he's assured and masterful on Demon Days, regaining his flair for grand gestures that served him so well at the height of Britpop, yet tempering his tendency to overreach by keeping the music lean and evocative through his enlistment of electronica maverick Danger Mouse as producer. Demon Days is unified and purposeful in a way Albarn's music hasn't been since The Great Escape, possessing a cinematic scope and a narrative flow, as the curtain unveils to the ominous, morose "Last Living Souls" and then twists and winds through valleys, detours, and wrong paths -- some light, some teeming with dread -- before ending up at the haltingly hopeful title track. Along the way, cameos float in and out of the slipstream and Albarn relies on several familiar tricks: the Specials are a touchstone, brooding minor key melodies haunt the album, there are some singalong refrains, while a celebrity recites a lyric (this time, it's Dennis Hopper). Instead of sounding like musical crutches, this sounds like an artist who knows his strengths and uses them as an anchor so he can go off and explore new worlds. Chief among the strengths that Albarn relies upon is his ability to find collaborators who can articulate his ideas clearly and vividly. Danger Mouse, whose Grey Album mash-up of the Beatles and Jay-Z was an underground sensation in 2004, gives this music an elasticity and creeping darkness than infects even such purportedly lighthearted moments as "Feel Good Inc." It's a sense of menace that's reminiscent of prime Happy Mondays, so it shouldn't be a surprise that one of the highlights of Demon Days is Shaun Ryder's cameo on the tight, deceptively catchy "Dare." Over a tightly wound four minutes, "Dare" exploits Ryder's iconic Mancunian thug persona within territory that belongs to the Gorillaz -- its percolating beat not too far removed from "19/2000" -- and that's what makes it a perfect distillation of Demon Days: by letting other musicians take center stage and by sharing credit with Danger Mouse, Damon Albarn has created an allegedly anonymous platform whose genius ultimately and quite clearly belongs to him alone. All the themes and ideas on this album have antecedents in his previous work, but surrounded by new collaborators, he's able to present them in a fresh, exciting way. And he has created a monster album here -- not just in its size, but in its Frankenstein construction. It not only eclipses the first Gorillaz album, which in itself was a terrific record, but stands alongside the best Blur albums, providing a tonal touchstone for this decade the way Parklife did for the '90s. While it won't launch a phenomenon the way that 1994 classic did -- Albarn is too much a veteran artist for that and the music is too dark and weird -- Demon Days is still one hell of a comeback for Damon Albarn, who seemed perilously close to forever disappearing into his own ego.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Becca Stevens has truly cultivated -- so early in her recording career; this is only her second album -- a sound one wants to savor again and again. Finding a sweet spot where jazz phrasing and improvisation meet classic acoustic folk harmonic structure and indie rock panache, Stevens slots neatly into no single category. But her appeal goes beyond her evasion of easy pigeonholing: This is a vocalist and bandleader with command to spare, a flair for making savvy, split-second decisions, pulling tricky changes out of the air, and crafting arrangements that appear simple on the surface but reveal true sophistication with each successive listen. None of this would matter much if the voice wasn't a keeper, and Stevens' is. She's got a light, airy but assured touch and tends to stay in her upper register, but she's supple and authoritative, and the occasional measured swoop in another direction adds further dynamism and depth. Her delivery is expressive but she never succumbs to the faux over-emotionalism that mars so many contemporary vocalists. And her songwriting is estimable: it's often quirky and opaque, at times deceptively minimal, never less than captivating. On originals such as the rhythmically restless "Canyon Dust," she'll have you wondering just what she means by "Your selfish choice to leave three hatching eggs has made a canyon in our chests," yet she's so unself-conscious when she sings those words that the urge to question or analyze never materializes. On the title track, which flits and flutters till it indeed feels airborne, she wastes no time, swiftly engaging her audience: when she sings "There's nothing like witnessing the moment that a life lets loose and falls to the ground" -- and it doesn't feel dark -- she's got your attention; she'll keep you riveted till she's done with you. In addition to her original material, Stevens does wonders with songs borrowed from sources as diverse as Seal ("Kiss from a Rose ), the Smiths ("There Is a Light That Never Goes Out"), Animal Collective, and Iron & Wine. All of this homey, soulful music is performed largely on acoustic instruments: Stevens plays guitar and ukulele, and Liam Robinson's accordion, harmonium, and piano flesh out the melodies beautifully. Chris Tordini on bass and Jordan Perlson on drums and percussion take Stevens' melodies to unexpected places, whether building to crescendos or laying down a polyrhythmic undercoat. Larry Campbell guests on guitar and cittern on a few tracks, and Gretchen Parlato lends a vocal to Stevens' composition "No More." If there's one misfire, it's the overreliance on harmony vocals from Robinson and Tordini. There's nothing wrong with their singing per sé, and in many spots, the three-part vocalizing, particularly when they sing counterpoint, is delicious. There's simply too much of it: while the album is credited to the Becca Stevens Band and not just Stevens, there are times when her lone voice would be more effective than the Peter, Paul and Mary route. But that's a minor quibble. Weightless is a gem, and it'll be exciting to see where this artist goes from here. © Jeff Tamarkin /TiVo

If Steven Van Zandt hadn't added anything to his discography since 1997's Born Again Savage, he surely had good reason. The first was made clear by his role as Silvio Dante in the series The Sopranos (1999 – 2007) followed by his stint as Frank Tagliano / Giovanni "Johnny" Henriksen in Lilyhammer (2012 – 2014). The second reason was his numerous tours as part of Bruce Springsteen's E Street Band, for whose leader he remains a right-hand man as well as the go-to guitarist. This Soulfire, released in Spring 2017, is in fact an official album, but slightly different. The man in the head-wrap is having fun covering his own songs, some from his back catalogue, others having been recorded by various musicians. So we can find, nestling away in this cornucopia, a new version of Love On The Wrong Side Of Town that Little Steven co-wrote with the Boss for Southside Johnny & The Asbury Jukes. Soulfire takes in other songs written by the Southside Johnny guitarist, alongside covers of Etta James (The Blues Is My Business) and James Brown (Down And Out In New York City). At the outset, Little Steven offers a grand fiesta of classic rock mixed with a muscular rhythm 'n' blues and a resonant soul: a cocktail that would not disgrace a certain Bruce S. of New Jersey...  © CM/Qobuz