Here it is: eight CDs worth of John Coltrane's classic quartet, comprised of bassist Jimmy Garrison, pianist McCoy Tyner, and drummer Elvin Jones, recorded between December of 1961 and September of 1965 when the artist followed his restless vision and expanded the band before assembling an entirely new one before his death. What transpired over the course of the eight albums and supplementary material used elsewhere is nothing short of a complete transfiguration of one band into another one, from a band that followed the leader into places unknown to one that inspired him and pushed him further. All of this transpired in the span of only three years. The group that the saxophonist had assembled for Coltrane in 1962, a band that had been together a little while and had performed together at the Village Vanguard (the tracks that include the quartet without Eric Dolphy from Impressions are here, and, in fact, the first pieces on the set are from those session dates chronologically) in a variety of settings, is almost nothing like the band that made Kulu Se Mama in 1965. For a change, the oft-employed yet irritating chronological method of compiling a box makes sense here. McCoy Tyner's piano style, that rich open-ended modal chromaticism he developed was at work on "The Inchworm," astonishingly enough the first work recorded in the 1962 studio dates. "Out of This World" was one of the last from that session that would produce the album Coltrane. The blues element that would disappear from later records -- at least consciously -- was the driving force behind ballads like "Soul Eyes" and "After the Rain." But it isn't until the latter end of 1963 that we hear the band beginning to gel into the unit that would make A Love Supreme and create the tracks that would be assembled into First Meditations for Quartet. There are the two alternate takes of "Alabama," and the soprano solo that is positively danced around by the rhythm section on "Dear Old Stockholm." There is also the great schism in Coltrane, much that took place between the June 1964 session that produced "Crescent" (and its first version is on disc eight, which is full of supplementary and unreleased material) and the following December when A Love Supreme was recorded. Here is the hinges in the whole box, the questions that need to be resolved than that this box only begs more than answers: what happened to that tight conscripted modalism Coltrane had been working on in his official releases prior to that time period as many of them hold clues but never give away the entire picture. What the box does in its voluminous way is set the record straight that there was no retrenchment in pursuant releases to A Love Supreme. There were softer moments on record, but the material in the can was far more adventurous recorded at about the same time, such as the "Suite" or "Transition" or "Dusk Dawn." Disc eight is also a treat in that it contains seven "works in progress" from all periods in the quartet's history. It begins with the aforementioned version of "Crescent," which is appreciably different than the master take in Tyner's solo particularly. There's also an incomplete though steaming initial take of "Bessie's Blues." Perhaps the most beautiful thing on the final disc is the alternate take of part II of A Love Supreme's "Resolution," with its elongated obligato by Coltrane and Tyner's gorgeous tenths playing ostinato during the saxophone solo. There's an alternate of "Feelin' Good" that's no big deal, followed by breakdowns and alternate takes of both "Dear Lord" and "Living Space," both of which reveal the harmonic development of a scale as it becomes the architectural model for the rest of the composition and improvisation. There can be no arguing the value of the originally released recordings; whether they were issued during Coltrane's lifetime or after his death, they tell a story that millions of listeners formed their impressions by, true or false, and created a legacy that lives on. But there is also something to be said for setting the record straight, and the chronological approach that this set takes in no way desecrates the integrity of the original albums themselves -- unlike the Ornette Coleman box. Simply put, it is indispensable to those who need a deeper understanding of Coltrane's music and the development of his most influential period. The sound quality is fully remastered to 20-bit technology, and the package is unwieldy but beautiful and sturdy. It's a must. © Thom Jurek /TiVo

SOPHIE is one of those artists who inspire fascination right away, as much thanks to the mystery of their personality as the ineffable quality of their sound. We first met her in 2006 on the London label PC Music, and Samuel Long (SOPHIE's real name) was already producing music that was stranger than the output of all the rest of that crew (which is saying something). Her first official sally, Product from 2015, already presented the basics of her musical world, with a side of chiptune, and a dash of kawaii. With a smooth production wrapped in latex, spacey sounds and completely aseptic vocals, the like had never been heard; you'd think you were on a dancefloor, suffocating in a too-tight Batman costume. While the overpoweringly cheesy pop is a crucial component of the "SOPHIE sound", it is completed by an unexpected, metallic, glacial electro with a lightsaber thrum.Unique, bizarre, extreme, uncompromising, sincere... These are words that come to mind when trying to describe SOPHIE's music in an article in the specialist music press, where people are asking the question:  "Is this the future of electro? That's reasonable when you think of the artists who have made use of her services (Madonna, Charli XCX, Vince Staples, Cashmere Cat…). And, as everyone scrutinised her first album, she took off on a tangent, delivering this protean and inclassifiable record: challenging from the off, twisting in the middle with a long ambient passage, and classic PC music to finish. No, this album is not easily accessible. It could even put listeners off, given the way that it kicks against convention, as a certain Icelandic woman did twenty years ago. But isn't that the point of art? And the mark of great artists? © Sylvain Di Cristo/Qobuz

Songwriters and musicians have long used emotional turmoil as a source of inspiration, but on The Classic -- which nods to '60s and '70s soul with its sound and title -- Joan Wasser proves that happiness can make for smart, relatable songs too. Even though this is easily her most joyous album, it isn't completely new territory. Joan as Police Woman's previous albums showed that Wasser can set loss, grief, and acceptance to song like few others and also had uplifting moments that broke through like sunbeams. And while plenty of singers -- most notably Amy Winehouse's mod neo-soul and Chan Marshall in her Memphis-flavored era -- have revisited this kind of sound, Wasser puts her own stamp on it. The Classic is full of smoky vocals and slinky melodies that are unmistakably hers; they're just lit up. The results are some of her most accessible music yet, such as the radiant closing track, "Ask Me." At times, the instrumentation borders on clichéd instead of classic; after half a century of peppy brass and wah-wah guitars signifying "happy" and "empowered," it's hard to wring anything new out of those sounds. More often than not, Wasser manages to do just that by playing against the expectations of upbeat soul music as much as she plays into them: the title track mixes beatboxing and doo wop vocals as it sings the praises of being innocent enough to fall in love and mature enough to move on from the past, while "Shame" uses its brassy choruses to banish a "dirty space invader." The mix of clarity and sensuality in Wasser's songwriting makes The Classic's message -- that happiness is an active choice rather than a passive state -- all the more dynamic. The album's best songs aren't about being happy, but what it takes to be ready for happiness. On the bold opener, "Witness," Wasser depicts her self-defeating thoughts as "a tape that's played forever"; "Good Together" dispels the nostalgia around an old flame with a massive, cobweb-clearing beat; and "What Would You Do" underscores her impatience with people and situations that don't work. Joan as Police Woman takes almost as many musical risks as emotional ones on The Classic, particularly on lengthy tracks like "Get Direct" and "New Year's Day," but this bravery is usually rewarded, and rewarding. While the album's brightness may take some getting used to, listeners who love her music for how well she expresses feelings that are universal yet hard to articulate will appreciate how vividly The Classic captures joy and what it takes to get it.© Heather Phares /TiVo

Australian rapper Iggy Azalea's rise to Island Records/Hustle Gang status was quite strange, seeing as how she was a high fashion model gone Dirty South, like some kind of Down Under mix of Lana Del Rey and Trina. Dating A$AP Rocky meant she had her rap game proper, and it was all the more tantalizing when her privileged party anthems landed some whip smart punch lines, but two tracks into The New Classic, "Don't Need Y'all" takes her from detached to jaded, making this debut album one icy cold coming-out party. By the album-closing "F**K Love," her snarled declaration "I'm already in love with myself" is a redundant credo of epic proportions, but get past the narrow "me me me" theme of the album and it's amazing how "live" it all feels. Chalk it up to cutting-edge taste as trapstep group Watch the Duck turn the cut "100" into something blog-worthy, while a Mavado appearance and an electro-dancehall production from the Invisible Men and the Arcade make "Lady Patra" the highlight to pick for Mad Decent or Diplo fans. Put the tried and true singalong "Change Your Life" with T.I. on the track list, along with the traptastic "Fancy" featuring Charli XCX, and The New Classic features some memorable moments that mash fashion, sass, high tax bracket mackin', and flashy beats.© David Jeffries /TiVo

Australian rapper Iggy Azalea's rise to Island Records/Hustle Gang status was quite strange, seeing as how she was a high fashion model gone Dirty South, like some kind of Down Under mix of Lana Del Rey and Trina. Dating A$AP Rocky meant she had her rap game proper, and it was all the more tantalizing when her privileged party anthems landed some whip smart punch lines, but two tracks into The New Classic, "Don't Need Y'all" takes her from detached to jaded, making this debut album one icy cold coming-out party. By the album-closing "F**K Love," her snarled declaration "I'm already in love with myself" is a redundant credo of epic proportions, but get past the narrow "me me me" theme of the album and it's amazing how "live" it all feels. Chalk it up to cutting-edge taste as trapstep group Watch the Duck turn the cut "100" into something blog-worthy, while a Mavado appearance and an electro-dancehall production from the Invisible Men and the Arcade make "Lady Patra" the highlight to pick for Mad Decent or Diplo fans. Put the tried and true singalong "Change Your Life" with T.I. on the track list, along with the traptastic "Fancy" featuring Charli XCX, and The New Classic features some memorable moments that mash fashion, sass, high tax bracket mackin', and flashy beats.© David Jeffries /TiVo

Songwriters and musicians have long used emotional turmoil as a source of inspiration, but on The Classic -- which nods to '60s and '70s soul with its sound and title -- Joan Wasser proves that happiness can make for smart, relatable songs too. Even though this is easily her most joyous album, it isn't completely new territory. Joan as Police Woman's previous albums showed that Wasser can set loss, grief, and acceptance to song like few others and also had uplifting moments that broke through like sunbeams. And while plenty of singers -- most notably Amy Winehouse's mod neo-soul and Chan Marshall in her Memphis-flavored era -- have revisited this kind of sound, Wasser puts her own stamp on it. The Classic is full of smoky vocals and slinky melodies that are unmistakably hers; they're just lit up. The results are some of her most accessible music yet, such as the radiant closing track, "Ask Me." At times, the instrumentation borders on clichéd instead of classic; after half a century of peppy brass and wah-wah guitars signifying "happy" and "empowered," it's hard to wring anything new out of those sounds. More often than not, Wasser manages to do just that by playing against the expectations of upbeat soul music as much as she plays into them: the title track mixes beatboxing and doo wop vocals as it sings the praises of being innocent enough to fall in love and mature enough to move on from the past, while "Shame" uses its brassy choruses to banish a "dirty space invader." The mix of clarity and sensuality in Wasser's songwriting makes The Classic's message -- that happiness is an active choice rather than a passive state -- all the more dynamic. The album's best songs aren't about being happy, but what it takes to be ready for happiness. On the bold opener, "Witness," Wasser depicts her self-defeating thoughts as "a tape that's played forever"; "Good Together" dispels the nostalgia around an old flame with a massive, cobweb-clearing beat; and "What Would You Do" underscores her impatience with people and situations that don't work. Joan as Police Woman takes almost as many musical risks as emotional ones on The Classic, particularly on lengthy tracks like "Get Direct" and "New Year's Day," but this bravery is usually rewarded, and rewarding. While the album's brightness may take some getting used to, listeners who love her music for how well she expresses feelings that are universal yet hard to articulate will appreciate how vividly The Classic captures joy and what it takes to get it. © Heather Phares /TiVo

Australian rapper Iggy Azalea's rise to Island Records/Hustle Gang status was quite strange, seeing as how she was a high fashion model gone Dirty South, like some kind of Down Under mix of Lana Del Rey and Trina. Dating A$AP Rocky meant she had her rap game proper, and it was all the more tantalizing when her privileged party anthems landed some whip smart punch lines, but two tracks into The New Classic, "Don't Need Y'all" takes her from detached to jaded, making this debut album one icy cold coming-out party. By the album-closing "F**K Love," her snarled declaration "I'm already in love with myself" is a redundant credo of epic proportions, but get past the narrow "me me me" theme of the album and it's amazing how "live" it all feels. Chalk it up to cutting-edge taste as trapstep group Watch the Duck turn the cut "100" into something blog-worthy, while a Mavado appearance and an electro-dancehall production from the Invisible Men and the Arcade make "Lady Patra" the highlight to pick for Mad Decent or Diplo fans. Put the tried and true singalong "Change Your Life" with T.I. on the track list, along with the traptastic "Fancy" featuring Charli XCX, and The New Classic features some memorable moments that mash fashion, sass, high tax bracket mackin', and flashy beats.© David Jeffries /TiVo