In January of 1983, Keith Jarrett returned to the trio format and his collaboration with bassist Gary Peacock and drummer Jack DeJohnette resulted in three albums. The first release finds the trio digging into five standards with "God Bless the Child" being dragged out (although not unmercifully) for 15 minutes. The performances, which usually do not swing in a conventional sense, do have a momentum of their own. Jarrett is generous in allocating solo space to Peacock and it is obvious that the three musicians were listening very closely to each other.© Scott Yanow /TiVo

This 1973 release was the very last collection that the Grateful Dead authorized during their tenure with Warner Bros. in the late '60s and early '70s. However, this live disc was a sort of melancholy affair, as it centered on material featuring Ron "Pigpen" McKernan (guitar/vocals/mouth harp), who had left the band due to illness in June of the previous year. History of the Grateful Dead, Vol. 1 (Bear's Choice) is somewhat misleading, as a follow-up never came to pass. Band historians, however, claim that this release was optimistically titled because the label had hoped to issue a series of live recordings (à la Dick's Picks) containing highlights from a variety of vintage Dead performances. Alas, with the formation of the group's own label it was not to be. The single disc includes performances from a highly touted series of shows held over two nights (February 13-14, 1970) at the Fillmore East in New York City. While most assuredly not the finest example of the Dead's formidable acoustic sets, the platter opens with a quartet of cover tunes -- many of which had been entries in Jerry Garcia (guitar/vocals) and McKernan's folky jug band repertoire prior to ultimately forming the electric, psychedelic Grateful Dead. McKernan's playful cover of Lightnin' Hopkins' "Katie Mae" is a somewhat lightweight affair. He counterbalances ad-libbed lyrics with his own very sparse solo guitar picking, which is in perfect keeping with the lonesome nature of this blues. Garcia and Bob Weir (guitar/vocals) join in on the remaining "unplugged" tracks. Both the affective and noir "Dark Hollow" and "I've Been All Around This World" reveal the command of this highly under-utilized sub-division of the Dead. Clocking in at seven-plus minutes, the album's sole original composition, "Black Peter," is masterfully executed. It ultimately bests the original Workingman's Dead (1969) version in sheer emotive realization. The two electric offerings -- a cover of Howlin' Wolf's "Smokestack Lightnin'" and Otis Redding's "Hard to Handle" -- are full-blown rave-ups allowing the entire band to weave their collective R&B-influenced psychedelia, unedited and in real time. Both tracks had become assertive vehicles for McKernan's no-nonsense R&B sensibilities. In 2001, History of the Grateful Dead, Vol. 1 (Bear's Choice) was included in the 12-disc Golden Road (1965-1973) box set. The remastered edition comes replete with a newly inked 16-page liner notes insert containing an essay from the "Bear" (aka Owsley Stanley) himself. The expanded track list yields four additional performances from the same cache of shows: the McKernan-led "Good Lovin'," "Big Boss Man," a second and equally scintillating version of "Smokestack Lightnin'," as well as an up-tempo "Sitting on Top of the World," the latter of which keeps the frenetic spirit of the reading from the Dead's self-titled debut firmly intact.© Lindsay Planer /TiVo

Designated as a mixtape rather than a full-length, 2 Ruff, Vol. 1 (the fifth Chase & Status release to hit the Top Ten in the U.K. album charts) is a brief but potent set of dancefloor heaters. While nearly every track sports guest producers and vocalists, it feels like it's meant to resemble a pack of raw dubplates rather than a more polished studio album. Stefflon Don leads the charge with her guest turn on the brassy, ragga-tinged opener "Selecta," then drill rapper ArrDee breathlessly recalls a debaucherous night out on "Liquor & Cigarettes." The release seems much less drill-influenced than the preceding Chase & Status album, however. "Baddadan," a Flowdan-featuring anthem that took over festivals and reached the Top Five in the U.K., appears in a slightly extended version, and it's one of the most commanding tracks here. Some of the other songs with guest vocalists don't leave as much of an impression, but "Say the Word" (with Clementine Douglas) is a sweet, levitating pop moment, and "20 Man Down" (featuring MIST and IRAH) strikes a balance between tense grittiness and social consciousness, though it could use an additional verse or two. "Massive & Crew" and "Get Got" are buzzy near-instrumentals that seem like stripped-down club tools on the surface, but are actually quite intricate and end up being two of the most exciting tracks on the mixtape. A mishmash of charting hit singles and other ideas that are likely to be explored further on future records, 2 Ruff, Vol. 1 isn't intended to be a definitive Chase & Status release, but for anyone in the mood for a half-hour dose of exhilarating dancefloor drum'n'bass, it does the job well.© Paul Simpson /TiVo

The music of Kenneth Fuchs has been championed by conductor JoAnn Falletta, who does it proud, but it is now being programmed by orchestras in various countries and earning attention from other conductors. The Sinfonia of London and conductor John Wilson have been better known for film scores, but Wilson seems to have a real affinity for Fuchs' well-crafted pieces, and the results here are excellent. Fuchs' music is rooted in the past and is tonal, but it couldn't be called neo-Romantic; the listener's attention is drawn toward the detailed orchestral shadings rather than to melody. He is influenced by Copland, Britten, and, in the flute concerto Solitary the Thrush, Vaughan Williams (the title is from Walt Whitman, whom Vaughan Williams also loved). That work has a different structure from that of The Lark Ascending, but it is attractive enough that it could become a modern substitute for audiences that have heard the Vaughan Williams work too often. It may be the most immediately appealing thing on the program, but the orchestral works are also absorbing. Consider Cloud Slant, whose three movements were inspired by paintings of Helen Frankenthaler (although they are emotional impressions rather than programmatic depictions). Classes exploring the relationship between music and art (or just enthusiasts interested in the same) might check these out. In general, Fuchs seems a composer likely to be heard more often on both sides of the Atlantic in the coming years, and this release made classical best-seller lists in the summer of 2023. © James Manheim /TiVo

It is indeed satisfying to see the music of Eric Coates on classical best-seller charts, where this one landed in the late spring of 2023. For so many decades, Coates was neglected, but championing by the conductor John Wilson, here with the BBC Philharmonic in fine form, has begun to change the situation. One thing that distinguishes Coates from most of his fellow composers of light music is that he undertook compositions in larger forms, and this album includes several splendid examples. Much of it is given over to Cinderella in 11 concise but hugely evocative sections illustrating episodes in the famous tale. Consider "The Clock Strikes Twelve," with not bells but timpani strokes. Coates' abilities as a musical portraitist are in evidence not once but twice, with the broad types of The Three Men ("The Man from the Country," "The Man About Town," and "The Man from the Sea," a riot of chantey-like music), and then at the end with The Three Elizabeths ("Queen Elizabeth I," "Elizabeth of Glamis," and, in 1944, "Princess Elizabeth"). There are also short pieces including, to raise the curtain, The Television March. There is not a dull moment on the album, and the next step for this delightful music would be its inclusion in a broad range of symphonic programs. © James Manheim /TiVo

Few musicians generated as much hate and love as Miles Davis. Every time this serial re-inventor changed musical directions, fans howled or grudgingly followed. If you loved his cool jazz, you hated his bop. Fans of his bop period despised his turn to fusion. And even the fusion lovers were baffled by his leap into funk. This set explores Davis' final studio recordings for Columbia Records—the label he signed with in the 1950s—when he was still searching for new sounds and unwilling to be anything less than a moving target despite his powers on the trumpet being much reduced.  It also provides clues to several still-controversial Miles mysteries: Did he have anything important left to say after 1975? Are the albums Davis made after his return to music in 1980 just a noodley, disappointing anti-climactic finale to a brilliant career?  And when in 1985, he covered a Michael Jackson hit on the You're Under Arrest album was it a travesty or a bold artistic risk? In 1975 after a run of increasingly raw and aggressive live albums, Davis dropped out of music altogether and holed up in his apartment on Manhattan's Upper West Side, going on something of a five-year binge. After several tentative steps that included The Man with the Horn (1981), the live Grammy-winning set We Want Miles (1982), Davis (now married to model-turned-actress Cicely Tyson, who helped pull him out of his half-decade bender) recorded Star People (1983) and Decoy (1984). On those records, Davis was again changing his music, this time leaning not only into Jackson, Cyndi Lauper, and other pop music of the time but also the emerging electronics and software revolution that continues to this day. According to an interview from that era quoted in the liner notes Davis said, "I like strong melodies, broken rhythm, and colors from the synthesizers." That sums up much of the content on these unreleased outtakes from his 1980s recording sessions. Captured during the Star People sessions, the mix of the previously unreleased tune "Santana" is the template for much later Miles: muscular funk rhythms over which he, saxophonist Bill Evans, and guitarist Mike Stern solo. The two-part "Minor Ninths" from the same sessions is an interesting duo combination of trombonist J.J. Johnson and Miles on keyboards. Another unreleased Star People track, "Remake of OBX Ballad," heard in two versions here, also features Davis playing only the Oberheim synthesizer. In the much-derided pop tunes from You're Under Arrest ("Time After Time" and "Human Nature"), which undoubtedly brought Davis to an entirely new audience, he mirrors the song's well-known vocal parts on trumpet. Taken at a leisurely tempo, the unreleased version of Tina Turner's "What's Love Got to Do with It" from those sessions with Bob Berg on soprano sax is a minor revelation. A particularly wonderful touch sprinkled in among the studio material are the snatches of Davis' inimitable whispery voice left in at the end of tracks. Also included is a 1983 performance recorded live in Montreal at the Théâtre St. Denis by Guy Charbonneau/Le Studio Mobile Montreal, much of which confirms Davis was still committed to his discovery of the late '70s, namely darting his trumpet in and out over rumbling funk grooves. Besides Evans, guitarist John Scofield, who first made a name for himself as a Davis' sideman, is featured on tracks like the upbeat, "What It Is." Davis' rendition of  "Star People" belies the oft-heard complaint that by the 1980s he no longer had the desire nor the chops to dig in and play. Equally adored and misunderstood, Davis' restless creativity always provoked questions. Asked in the 1980s why he changed his music so many times, he replied "You don't change music, music changes you.''  © Robert Baird/Qobuz

When faced with The Best of Nickelback, Vol. 1, the band's haters -- who are legion -- will be tempted to crack wise and say, "why did I expect this to be blank?", perhaps inadvertently updating J.D. Considine's old quip about The Best of Kansas ("why did I expect this album to be blank on both sides?", one of the few rock reviews that can be quoted in its entirety). Of course, The Best of Nickelback, Vol. 1 is not blank. It is a generous 19 tracks, not one of which is unreleased, and many of which are culled from their biggest album, 2005's All the Right Reasons, which went platinum eight times in the U.S., eclipsing even their 2001 breakthrough Silver Side Up, which topped out at six times platinum. Silver Side Up, with its single "How You Remind Me," is ground zero for The Best of Nickelback, Vol. 1. Their '90s albums, Curb and The State, are overlooked, but there are three tracks apiece from Silver Side Up and 2003's The Long Road, with the bulk of the record deriving from All the Right Reasons (six songs) and 2008's Dark Horse (five tunes), with 2011's Here and Now treated almost as an afterthought (only two songs, which accurately reflects its also-ran status). This means all the hits are here -- not just the crossover hits "Photograph," "How You Remind Me," "Someday," "Rockstar," "If Everyone Cared," "Far Away, and "When We Stand Together," but such rock radio hits as "Feelin' Way Too Damn Good," "Never Again," "Animals," and "Something in Your Mouth." In other words, this is the canon, the songs that kept the Canadian hard rockers on the top of the charts while earning the ire of those who considered themselves to have better taste. Collected, it won't convince a soul, but it certainly does represent the sound and attitude of active rock in the first decade of the new millennium -- and there's not a more listenable Nickelback album out there.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

What if some of the late 20th century's most recognizable voices came together for a freewheeling, no-egos goof? The debut by the Traveling Wilburys—George Harrison, Roy Orbison, Bob Dylan, Tom Petty and ELO's Jeff Lynne—is much more than novelty. Although the thematic glue is a love of 1950s rock 'n' roll and skiffle, layered with angelic harmonies and Jim Horn's bruising sax, each artist brings his distinct signature. The best songs (and hits) began with Harrison: perfect single "Handle With Care" and slice of sunshine that is "End of the Line." The Orbison-led "Not Alone Any More" is a pleasant lope that showcases his heartbreaking operatics. Petty's loose-limbed "Last Night" sounds like an outtake from his Full Moon Fever. Dylan's tracks, including the Springsteen-parodying "Tweeter and the Monkey Man" and rave-up "Dirty World," growl with an arched eyebrow. Also unmistakable is Lynne's more-is-more production, especially on Harrison's songs, including the spritely "Heading for the Light," and Petty's majestic-spooky "Margarita." Captured not long before Orbison's 1988 death, this album feels like a joyous gift. © Qobuz