Few are the career artists who can create music over the long haul that continually sounds fresh and contemporary without seeming faddish or desperate. Across eight solo studio albums, Norah Jones has effortlessly embraced the here-and-now, followed her muse and allowed her assured sense of self to carry her forward without any embarrassing missteps. Jones wanted to explore darkness on 2020's Pick Me Off the Floor, her most recent studio album, so she flipped the switch. Two years later she swerved to record Playing Along, an oft-buoyant album of duets with artists including Mavis Staples, Valerie June and Jeff Tweedy. It succeeded on its own terms. For Visions, Jones wanted to write with a single collaborator, Leon Michels, to make a mid-tempo record with session players and solo artists who've recorded with Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings, Brazilian Girls, Joni Mitchell and others. So she invited him into the studio, shut the door and made Visions.Billed by Jones' label as a more carefree, upbeat record, Visions sets a mood across twelve soulful, wood-paneled originals. Despite mentions of dance or dancing in a few songs, it's often bliss driven by solitude that's suggested. The happy-go-lucky "On My Way" floats across its measures, a joyful ode to moving forward not with a partner or lover, but alone, where the notion that "no one cares what you have to say" lives in the same space as "in the dark you can dance and sway." That many of the ideas for Visions, as Jones has said, "came in the middle of the night or in that moment right before sleep," it makes sense that she's focused on solitude, and that she's embracing it."Everyday we do God's little dance," she sings on "Staring at the Wall," an uptempo groover with a twangy, Sun Records-suggestive guitar line and a piano-propelled counter melody that, combined with sturdy snare-drum snaps, could power a Saturday night dance floor at a dive bar. "Running" gets energy from a piano melody, a reverbed drum pattern and a layered chorus of Jones' voice adding responses. "Swept Up in the Night" is a ballad of longing set after midnight. Lost in a dream, Jones can't shake her memories of a certain someone: "I find you a thousand times/ Underneath the stones in my mind." These are sturdy songs, the kind that not only linger in the psyche, but are so well crafted as to be indestructible. © Randall Roberts/Qobuz

We can’t say we didn’t know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Boulevard. Just as we can’t dispute that Lana Del Rey has become (or has always been, for those who had already figured this out) an essential figure in American music. With this ninth album with such a long title, Lana Del Rey remains in her Californian Ophelia character, floating tragically and romantically on the surface of a Hollywood pool. Her songs are slow and rather long, often devoid of choruses or pop gimmicks. Her sensual yet detached vocals are enhanced by minimalist arrangements with most of the songs having a few piano notes and even a few strings. Melancholy is a solitary pleasure, a way of living or at least not dying, in which Lana Del Rey is an expert. It seems that since 2021, and the Chemtrails Over the Country Club album, the singer has had long COVID. Although this languishing vibe is something that has been present in her music for much longer. On the surface there’s lethargy and introspection, even monotony because of the album’s 16-track length, but there’s no disappointment to be found here. It’s a record that you can listen to in private, ideally without disturbance. It leads you down a tunnel which, under the surface, is full of twists and turns, grey areas, echoes and suggestions. The signature track is A&W, which begins as a simple folk ballad and shifts into the realms of experimental hip-hop in the middle. When she lends herself to contemporary pop infused with hip-hop, Lana Del Rey has the good sense not to abuse her craft, to steer her voice clear of autotune. She is a singer whose name belongs among the greats (in no particular order: Kate Bush, Fiona Apple, Carole King, Laura Nyro, Agnes Obel, Joni Mitchell etc.) but who digs tunnels to escape – or hide. © Stéphane Deschamps/Qobuz

My Neighbour Totoro, Princess Mononoke, Spirited Away - people wonder at the magic of Studio Ghibli films far beyond their native Japan, within which the director Hayao Miyazaki recounts his stories in anime guise. But what would these films be without their soundtracks? Just like with Steven Spielberg and John Williams, Miyazaki has forged a unique artistic bond with the Japanese composer Joe Hisaishi that has lasted almost 40 years, with the latter’s compositions being instrumental in the films’ successes. Now we can discover his greatest Studio Ghibli hits re-recorded with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra - a first-class Deutsche Grammophon debut.In 1983, the two artists made their first collaboration for the anime film Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, for which Hisaishi would create “image music” (i.e. music that reflects the character and characters of the film or series). Miyazaki was so convinced by the music that, since the founding of Studio Ghibli in 1985, he was to underscore each of his films with Hisaishi’s compositions - to our eternal good fortune, because the pieces such as the waltz "Merry-Go-Round of Life" (from Howl’s Moving Castle), "A Town with an Ocean View" (from Kiki’s Delivery Service) or the touching "One Summer’s Day (The Name of Life)" (from Spirited Away) enchant the images as they appear on the big screen with very special magic. With a total of 29 tracks from 10 films, Hisaishi presents A Symphonic Celebration, with the crème de la crème of his Studio Ghibli works in all their diversity - as composer, conductor and pianist - newly arranged for the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. In fact, this is the first time that the film music of Princess Mononoke and Porco Rosso has been recorded with a professional world orchestra. During an interview, Hisashi tells us himself:“We recorded the project last year in a church with a huge choir and orchestra, and that was really great. The orchestras in Europe somehow have a longer, fuller sound. Of course, the musicians in Japan are also highly professional, but in Vienna or London the feeling for the music is a bit different again.”Whether it’s in Japan, Europe or America - with A Symphonic Celebration we can now enjoy Hisaishi’s wonderful and unique film music all over the world, and immerse ourselves fully in the fabulous stories of Miyazaki’s anime characters. © Lena Germann/Qobuz

Arriving swiftly on the heels of Moving on Skiffle, Accentuate the Positive is certainly a kissing cousin to its 2023 companion: it's another spirited revival of a style that a young Van Morrison held dear. Despite being titled after the Johnny Mercer & Harold Arlen standard, Accentuate the Positive isn't an ode to the Great American Songbook. It's nominally a celebration of the early days of rock & roll, an era that did see various styles, attitudes, and demographics mingle, so Morrison's decision to punctuate classics by Chuck Berry, the Everly Brothers, Little Richard, and Chuck Willis with pop tunes, country hits, and jump blues isn't far afield: all this music was part of the early explosion of rock & roll. Besides, Van Morrison has never been a rockabilly cat, he's a blues shouter and he plays precisely to those strengths here, leading his band through lively and loving readings of rock & roll oldies, never apologizing for the unabashed nostalgia of the entire enterprise.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

With Iechyd Da - “good health” in Welsh as he comes from West Kirby, a small town nestled in the Wirral peninsula between Wales and Liverpool - Bill Ryder-Jones begins 2024 with grace. This fifth record follows the hazy shoegaze of Yawn, released 5 years earlier, and Yawny Yawn, his stripped-back piano version. The ex-guitarist of The Coral embarked on his solo journey in 2008 with a definitive departure from the rock quintet, whose glory had become as overwhelming as its stresses. These difficulties and his own melancholy have formed the basis, throughout his career, of the Englishman’s intimate music of languid, chamber-like folk ballads.They roll out here with an immensity that is more organic and luminous, releasing the pain of thwarted love with soaring strings. Opting for orchestral pop, sometimes reminiscent of the 60s, the gritty songwriter always writes of his struggles but is now fuelled by hope. Mirroring contortions of the heart and mind, the rhythms speed up and fade out, and the orchestration builds and diminishes, illustrating his emotions with melodic precision and luxury. In this optimistic production, the mixing once again entrusted to James Ellis Ford, we hear for the first time a village children’s choir (“We Don’t Need Them”, “It’s Today Again”), which brings an innocent warmth. The whole thing gently closes with the delicate notes of the instrumental song “Nos Da” (“good night” in Welsh). Astounding. © Charlotte Saintoin/Qobuz

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

It’s emancipation time for Romy Madley-Croft, guitarist of The xx, with the release of her first solo album, a “party album” that made her step a little outside her comfort zone. Penning for singers like Halsey and Dua Lipa, Romy began by working for others alongside Fred Again.., who has become one of England’s most in-demand producers over the past few years. Their collaboration began as a friendship, and one day, after having written “Loveher,” a story about loving a woman, Romy decided to take credit for it. And thus began the album, an homage to the queer club scene where Romy tells of having come into her own, and which now helps her come into her own as a solo artist. Fred Again.. produced eight tracks on the record, leaving behind his characteristic ethereal footprint, halfway between pop and dance music. On the album, we also find the single “Strong,” a true rave anthem produced by a man who knows how it’s done, Stuart Price, pioneer of the English electronic scene with his 90s project Les Rythmes Digitales. Between euphoria and melancholy, ecstasy and nostalgia, Romy delivers a particularly successful first album, 100% for the dance floor. © Smaël Bouaici/Qobuz

This umpteenth studio album from the legendary Genesis guitarist and multi-instrumentalist follows his 2021 double-header of Under a Mediterranean Sky and Surrender of Silence. A vaguely autobiographical rite-of-passage concept piece about a young character named Travla, it features a familiar cast of longtime Hackett collaborators and promises "ballads, blues, progressive rock, theatre, and fantasia."© TiVo

Sonny & Cher, Jane Birkin & Serge Gainsbourg, Nancy Sinatra & Lee Hazlewood, Gram Parsons & Emmylou Harris, Les Paul & Mary Ford, She & Him... The history of popular music is full of mythical mixed duos. And here, a new tandem makes an entry greeted by a Qobuzissime! On one side, a gold-plated rock icon who occasionally comes out of his lair: Paul Simonon, ex-bassist of the Clash (that's him on the cover of London Calling!) and more recently member of The Good, The Bad And The Queen with Damon Albarn and the late Tony Allen. On the other, the folkeuse Galen Ayers, daughter of Kevin Ayers, the eccentric British co-founder of Soft Machine.The album that these two have just recorded is however light years away from their history-laden resumes. From the very first notes of Can We Do Tomorrow Another Day?, Galen & Paul play the troubadour card, the simple—not simplistic—walk between styles, landscapes and territories. Viscerally cosmopolitan and even European (they sing in English and Spanish, and talk about Paris), these ten tracks play it nonchalant with a street singer side. Mariachi fragrances, reggae sounds, the carefree Italian and French variety of the '60s—the concept of Galen & Paul is retro without being old-fashioned, funny without being potache, poetic without being cliché.The duo is supported by impeccable musicians (guitarist Simon Tong—another one of Simonon's The Good… bandmates, jazz drummer Seb Rochford and Dan Donovan on keyboards), and by Tony Visconti, Bowie's producer who is more used to "big sound" records. And then there is Damon Albarn who comes to blow in his melodica on some tracks. In 38 minutes, Galen & Paul take us around the world, a warm, benevolent, nostalgic elsewhere that feels good. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

When Alice in Chains' debut album, Facelift, was released in 1990, about a year before Nirvana's Nevermind, the thriving Seattle scene barely registered on the national musical radar outside of underground circles (although Soundgarden's major-label debut, Louder Than Love, was also released that year and brought them a Grammy nomination). That started to change when MTV jumped all over the video for "Man in the Box," giving the group a crucial boost and helping to pave the way for grunge's popular explosion toward the end of 1991. Although their dominant influences -- Black Sabbath, the Stooges -- were hardly unique on the Seattle scene, Alice in Chains were arguably the most metallic of grunge bands, which gave them a definite appeal outside the underground; all the same, the group's sinister, brooding, suffocating sound resembled little else gaining wide exposure on the 1990 hard rock scene. Neither hedonistic nor especially technically accomplished, Alice in Chains' songs were mostly slow, oppressive dirges with a sense of melody that was undeniable, yet which crept along over the murky sludge of the band's instrumental attack in a way that hardly fit accepted notions of what made hard rock catchy and accessible. Although some parts of Facelift sink into turgid, ponderous bombast (particularly over the erratic second half), and the lyrics are sometimes immature, the overall effect is fresh, exciting, and powerful. While Alice in Chains would go on to do better and more consistent work, Facelift was one of the most important records in establishing an audience for grunge and alternative rock among hard rock and heavy metal listeners, and with its platinum sales certification, it also made Alice in Chains the first Seattle band to break through to a wider, less exclusively underground audience.© Steve Huey /TiVo

It is the Quebec director Denis Villeneuve who bears the heavy responsibility of tackling the sequel of Blade Runner, the science-fiction movie directed by Ridley Scott in 1982, with Harrison Ford in the role of Rick Deckard, a former cop hunting Replicants. For its music, it was first the Icelander Jóhann Jóhannsson, a regular of Villeneuve’s movies (Sicario, Arrival…), that had the just as heavy responsibility to take over from Vangelis, the composer of the soundtrack of the first movie. Finally, the director wanted to get closer in spirit to the Greek composer: he fired Jóhannsson and replaced him with Hans Zimmer, whose ability to musically dress science-fiction needs no further proof. Remember his soundtracks for Christopher Nolan (Inception and Interstellar). For this sequel, Zimmer (helped by Benjamin Wallfish) navigates the synthetic and freezing waters of the first Blade Runner soundtrack. You just have to listen to the introductory track (2049) or to Mesa to notice the striking resemblance with the layers both heavy and harrowing from Vangelis’ score. The rest of the soundtrack is stuffed with atmospheric tracks of the same ilk, designed with extreme care and great efficiency, as always with Zimmer. It’s worth noting the presence of two of Elvis Presley’s sweet songs (among which we find the hit Can’t Stop Falling In Love) and another from Frank Sinatra, which are completely at odds with the whole thing. Maybe we’ll someday have access to the movie’s rejected music, the one composed by Jóhannsson? In the meantime, it constitutes a Grail popular with collectors, as often happens in Hollywood movie score history (see the rejected soundtrack for Troy by Gabriel Yared or the one for Robin and Marian by Michel Legrand). © NM/Qobuz

By now, Chan Marshall (aka Cat Power) is an old hand at choosing songs to interpret. On this, her third album of catholic covers, she makes that clear right out of the gate. Her interpretation of Frank Ocean's "Bad Religion"—a spare heartbreaker and one of the most painfully intimate songs of the past decade—is a marvel in that it takes an already perfect song and makes it even more haunting by tapping into a different dimension. There's a lived-in depth, a beautiful reminder of how Marshall has grown into her voice, which used to be a tentative instrument and now is arrestingly yet comfortably assured. Adding more musical layers, including multiple vocal tracks, she underscores how the song is not just about the swelling ache of unrequited love but also the acceptance of what that means about you. Marshall makes Lana Del Rey's sleepy-eyed ballad "White Mustang" into more of a sexy slow roll that quickens its pace at the chorus—becoming a noir prowl, like from some spy thriller. "You're revvin' and revvin' and revvin' it up/ And the sound, it was frightening," Marshall sings like she means it, all the gauze of the original torn aside. Her own song "Hate," a bleak blues lament from 2006's The Greatest, evolves as "Unhate": bigger, bolder and with ghostly vocal effects. The pounding, relentless nightmare of Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds' "I Had a Dream, Joe" is transformed into a Lynchian fever dream. The effect sounds, truly, like an early Cat Power song—nervous, threatening, skittish, ready to bolt at any moment. Marshall lets slide the cynicism of the Replacements' bittersweet beauty "Here Comes a Regular," leaving the tender ache of hopelessness on full display. The Pogues' trad-folk chanty "A Pair of Brown Eyes" is stripped back to a holy-sounding hymn, organ humming and Marshall's voice a mesmerizing round-robin of harmony. "It Wasn't God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels" becomes mischievous and winking, slowed down to a lazy summer drawl with back-alley bass. Bob Seger's "Against the Wind," here almost witchy in its femininity, is completely unrecognizable. Marshall puts a swoony, smoky cabaret sheen on the jazz standard "I'll Be Seeing You." And a faithful cover of "These Days"—originally written by a 16-year-old Jackson Browne and made famous by Nico—is exactly what you want to hear from Marshall: husky and shadowy, excruciatingly beautiful, endlessly satisfying. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

After a strong run between 2010 and 2016, Idaho-bred musician Trevor Powers temporarily ceased making music as Youth Lagoon, the nostalgic and psychedelically tinged bedroom pop project with which he'd created three critically acclaimed albums. Heaven Is a Junkyard marks Powers' return to the Youth Lagoon moniker, continuing the clearer production he left off with on 2015's Savage Hills Ballroom, and leaning into gentler, almost Americana-styled instrumentals that seem to take root in grounded emotional states. Throughout the album, soft piano intermingles with found sounds, samples, laid-back drum grooves, and occasional unobtrusive electronic elements as Powers spins opaque lyrics about troubled families, open skies, and images that evoke the feeling of life in the heartland. This formula becomes its own kind of flyover pop on the album's best songs, with "Idaho Alien" and "Prizefighter" coming one after another and feeling like continuations of each other's affable hooks and softly melancholic melodic sensibilities. The stripped-down ballad "The Sling" consists mainly of piano and lonely vocals before a haunted chorus and stirring strings come in to push the song's wounded feel to its conclusion. There are still hints of the washed-out nostalgia of earlier Youth Lagoon material in the cloudy glow of ambient interlude "Lux Radio Theater" or the distant drum loops and wobbly lo-fi processing of "Mercury" but by and large, Heaven Is a Junkyard finds Powers in pastoral mode. Even in its most orchestrated moments, the album feels primarily reflective and still, like Powers is gazing out on a silent field of wheat and offering us a look into his brain as the thoughts, memories, and scattered hopes all float by.© TiVo Staff /TiVo