Singing standards, trying to bring something different to or imprint your style on a tune made famous by Sinatra, Garland or Holiday, is a brave venture in the 21st century. The eclectic and unpredictable Rickie Lee Jones, has also always been a sneakily talented, genre-spanning songwriter who approaches covers with the same determination she brings to her own songs. Jones has carefully built a proud though underappreciated career that now gives her the gravitas to have a little fun on the aptly named Pieces of Treasure. As she did for a selection of rock and pop covers on 2019's Kicks, Jones leans into well-known (and well-worn) pop music standards like Jimmy McHugh's' bouncy "Sunny Side of the Street" or Kurt Weill's enchanting ode to age, "September Song." Rather than drowning these chestnuts in sentimentality, she works her nimble vocal way at leisurely tempos that encourage finely detailed renditions, the kind she's always been fabulous at finding. The opener "Just in Time" is an on- target success as is her easy, swinging run through of George and Ira Gershwin's "They Can' Take That Away From Me" where just a bit of scatting is added. While the late Jimmy Scott will always own the Jimmy Van Heusen/Sammy Cohen knockout "All The Way," Jones gives her all here. Set against just an acoustic guitar, she earnestly wends her way through a warm version of "On the Sunny Side of the Street" in which the last note is held for more than a beat. Working again with Russ Titelman who, along with Lenny Waronker, produced her 1979 debut album, Jones says this album made her feel young again and was like a reunion with herself.  Titelman has said of Pieces of Treasure's sessions, "I adore the young Rickie Lee, but I love even more the old dame I watched pour her heart out every time she got in front of a microphone." Recorded with the very spare accompaniment of mostly just pianist Rob Mounsey, with appearances by guitarist Russell Malone and vibraphonist Mike Mainieri, Pieces of Treasure was tracked in New York City at Bass Hit Studio, whose owner Dave Darlington was one of four engineers, and also mixed the album.) As befits the project, Jones is close-mic'd and the instrumentalists are tastefully kept in the background. Rickie Lee Jones sounds reinvigorated by this trip down Tin Pan Alley. © Robert Baird/Qobuz

For the general public as well as for many of his fans, Harvest is the pinnacle of his rich discography from the 70s. Against a melancholic backdrop of country-rock and folk, Young’s songwriting shines brightly throughout this fourth album released in February, 1972. A sort of bucolic, rural and hippie Grail, the album laid bare his tumultuous relationship with the actress Carrie Snodgress, the mother of his first son Zeke. It also explored darker themes such as on The Needle and the Damage Done, a ballad about his guitarist Danny Whitten’s heroin addiction. Whitten died of an overdose in November that same year, just after Young kicked him out the band. Behind its peace & love façade (a principle that Crosby, Stills & Nash, James Taylor and Linda Ronstadt still very much followed), Harvest is an incredibly rich, troubled and melodically perfect record. Within the flawless work we even find the string section of the London Symphony Orchestra (A Man Needs a Maid and There's a World), handled with care and good taste. This was a record that would go on to influence countless generations. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

Who's Next is not an album lacking for reissues. In addition to a deluxe edition from 2003, there have also been multiple audiophile editions and remasters of the album since its 1971 release. So what could a "super deluxe edition" possibly contain? Quite a bit, as it turns out. As even casual Who fans know, the genesis of Who's Next was as Lifehouse, a multimedia rock opera even more ambitious than Tommy. Pete Townshend had developed a bizarre, dystopian story that somehow merged his devotion to Indian guru Meher Baba, his recent fascination with synthesizers, and the idea that the only thing that could save humanity from a test-tube-bound future was "real rock 'n' roll." Yeah, the aftereffects of the '60s were wild. After some live shows at the Young Vic in London and a series of marathon recording sessions, a 16-song tracklist was finalized, but by this point, it was collectively decided—both creatively and commercially—that perhaps another concept-dense double album might not be the best studio follow-up to Tommy. So, eight Lifehouse songs were re-cut and one new song ("My Wife") was recorded and the leaner, meaner Who's Next was released in August 1971. The album was both an instant success and has become an undisputed part of the classic rock canon, thanks to the inclusion of absolutely iconic tracks like "Won't Get Fooled Again," "Baba O'Riley," and "Behind Blue Eyes."While one could make an argument that the taut and focused power of Who's Next inadvertently proved the point of the Lifehouse story (namely, that rock 'n' roll is most effective when it's at its most primal), it's important to remember that Who's Next was also a giant artistic leap forward for the Who, as it found them at the peak of their powers as a pummeling rock band and as a band willing to be experimental and artful in their approach to being a pummeling rock band. (If any evidence is needed of the group's unrivaled power, check out take 13 of "Won't Get Fooled Again" on this set, which is so immediate and electric that it could easily be mistaken for a concert performance.) While several Lifehouse tracks found their way to other Who and Townshend records, getting a sense of the contours of the project has been difficult. But this massive, 155-track set creates those lines thanks to the inclusion of multiple Townshend demos as well as recording sessions of Life House tracks that occurred both before and after the release of Who's Next, and, most notably, two freshly mixed live shows from 1971 (including one of the Young Vic shows) that provided both the energy and, in some cases the basic tracks, for the album versions. While nothing on this bursting-at-the-seams edition overrides the all-killer-no-filler approach of Who's Next, it does provide plenty of long-desired context and documentation for what made that record so powerful. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

Drop everything: it's here! For once, a reissue-plus-rarities set that's worth all the time you have. Revolver, the Beatles' seventh studio album originally issued on August 5,1966, is widely celebrated as the greatest single album of the rock era. It brought psychedelic invention paired with impeccable melodies to the entire world. That first, wildly inventive release remains beyond stunning, and this is not meant to supplant it in any way. The expanded reissue of Revolver shows us the most successful band in the world at the top of their powers, in love with possibility (each song is a different template for sonic possibilities, from blue-eyed soul to avant-garde pop to beautiful melancholic dream music), and still absolutely in love with being a band. The unabashed, youthful enthusiasm for using the studio as an instrument, which would be their path forward as they no longer toured after the release of Revolver, is on special display in all of the outtakes.You likely know the original inside and out, so be prepared. The new mixes by Giles Martin and Sam Okell are truly high fidelity. As you might have read, Martin (son to George) and Okell employ a "de-mixing" technology recently developed by Emile de la Rey and others for the Peter Jackson Get Back documentary project. New details emerge, and the voice separation is spectacular. We're not saying that it's like you are hearing it for the first time, but you will discern new elements in a way that enhances and never detracts. This is so difficult to not only accomplish, but to do well. We've all fallen for reissues that don't live up to the hype. Some grand sonic experiments with reissuing can take years to realize. Perhaps they didn't need to lop off half of the sonic information on the 1990s era Robert Johnson reissues in order to present the music without the crackles and pops of the original 78s. This new de-mix (get it?) is surely a new standard. Hundreds of hours of expert care went into this release. If you haven't listened in a while, the same questions remain, such as why begin their biggest leap forward with a song as lurching and "meh" as "Taxman?" Aside from that song being merely good and not mind-blowing, the only quibble is that the release's track listing presents different outtakes and demos of the same track end to end. One does see them flower and fracture by doing this, but after the first listens, it might be repetitive. This ahead-of-its-time full-length is so close to perfect.Beatlemaniacs and newborn fans alike must consider this the new reference, the new source. As the band infamously sing on "Tomorrow Never Knows" (which has the most revelatory demos of all on this set), invoking both Eastern thought and contemporary enthusiasts of the psychedelic revolution, "Lay down all thoughts, surrender to the void; it is shining, it is shining." © Mike McGonigal/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

A guitarist worshipped by Jimi Hendrix, an insanely good falsetto singer that even Prince looked up to, an author heavily involved in the American civil rights movement and a top-tier songwriter: Curtis Mayfield was a man of many talents. His groovy symphonies helped form solid links between funk, jazz, blues, soul and traditional gospel. After making his name with The Impressions in the 60s, he embarked on a solo career in 1970. This box set named Keep On Keeping On contains the singer’s first four studio albums, each remastered in Hi-Res 24-Bit quality: Curtis (1970), Roots (1971), Back to the World (1973) and Sweet Exorcist (1974). Here, the rhythm'n'blues enjoy a second life, supported by a wah-wah guitar, careful percussion and an always airy string section. Every topic concerned is a mini-tragedy, socially engaged, anchored in traditional gospel music. The masterful arranging of these albums (especially his masterpiece Curtis, and Roots) can be considered rivals to Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On. It is worth mentioning that this 1970-1974 box set does not include the soundtrack to Superfly, Gordon Parks Jr.’s 1972 film which contains the singles Pusherman and Freddie’s Dead. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

It is important to realize that Norah Jones is not just a famous persona waving from the cover of a glossy magazine, or simply “a pretty face". The truth is far deeper... Day Breaks is further evidence of her undeniable talent, but also of a tangible artistic evolution. Mixing beautiful original compositions with a sprinkling of great classics (Horace Silver, Neil Young and Duke Ellington), the sixth album from the New Yorker who grew up in Texas brings her many and diverse passions together in one place.  Always lying within the realms of jazz, soul, pop and folk, it is her sincere and visceral love for the former that inhabits this stylish album, which doesn't dwell in the past for a single second. Over the years, the piano (much like her vocals) have toggled between nonchalance and pugnacity. Saxophonist Wayne Shorter, bassist John Patitucci and drummer Brian Blade are among the accomplices invited to the party here, and the experience of those involved is truly telling. Somehow, Day Breaks manages to see eye to eye with Come Away With Me, her first disc released back in 2002, and one that propelled her to the top of the charts. This 2016 vintage is even more structured than previous efforts. Mastered to perfection, the latest effort serves to epitomize the grace and beauty of this timeless artist. © MZ / Qobuz

On her fifth R&B-inflected album, British singer-songwriter Emeli Sandé makes pop music for grown-ups. "I put my heart on my wrist, don't wanna bleed no more … You can put the blame on me, I swear/ Even though it hurts, I'll still be there for you," she sings on "There For You." It is about, she has said, continuing to feel love for exes after the relationships are over. "Even if I'm pissed off with them for a couple of years, I'll always care for them, I'll always want to know they're OK. Because once you've committed to that love with someone, it doesn't just go away." Big, sweeping R&B track "All This Love" focuses on being dumped way before you're ready: "Since you stopped calling me baby/ Things have been a little bit shady/ Been jumping out of aeroplanes/ Racing in the fastest lanes," she sings, wildly self-aware but unable to control herself. "What am I supposed to do with all this love?" Sandé implores, going from curious to desperately confused to ecstatic, her voice reaching a new high plane with seemingly no choice but to spread all that love around. The title track, a swelling breakup ballad, is equally powerful. Sandé's words suggest she's wounded and taking on blame—"We could've done better/ But sooner or later/ We stopped all love letters"—but it doesn't stop her from flying to the rafters while, beneath her, crisp, cool, giant drum beats fire off shocks to the system. That drum style also carries "End of Time," a bit of gospel soul that allows Sandé to get showy with her soprano. "My Boy LIkes to Party" is adult contemporary with a nervous edge, thanks to a skittering beat and iced, machinated effects on Sandé's vocals before she leans into the interesting rushed bridge. "Lighthouse," meanwhile, eases back with tropical dub rhythms and a slow-spinning shimmer that compliments the huskier shadow of her velvet-soft voice. It's a bit Alicia Keys-esque, as is soulful piano track "Love"—which highlights Sandé's remarkable control as she impressively alternates between dove coos and strongly delivered words. There are other familiar touchstones here, too. You can imagine Beyoncé from a different era—circa B'Day, perhaps—tackling songs like "True Colours" or "Nothing We Can't Handle."  © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

As much for the wider public as for his great many fans, Neil Young's Harvest represents the pinnacle of his rich discography from the seventies. Founded upon country-rock and melancholic folk, the so-called loner's art shines ever brightly throughout this fourth album, released back in February 1972. It is a gold mine full of bucolic, pastoral gems, recorded with a new group of brilliant musicians called the Stray Gators: Ben Keith on steel guitar, Kenny Buttrey on drums, Tim Drummond on bass, and the great Jack Nitzsche on piano and arrangement. Harvest, which frequently displays Young's tumultuous relationship with actress Carrie Snodgress (mother of his first son Zeke) also incorporates some impressive somber moments, such as in "The Needle and the Damage Done," a stunning ballad about his heroin-addicted guitarist Danny Whitten, who died of an overdose in November that same year, just after being kicked out of the band.But behind the "peace and love" bliss enhanced by contributions from David Crosby, Stephen Stills and Graham Nash, as well as James Taylor and Linda Ronstadt, Harvest remains a rich, tormented and melodically flawless work—one on which the violins of the London Symphony Orchestra ("A Man Needs a Maid" and "There's a World") are handled with care and taste. It is an album that will influence many future generations, and which celebrates its 50th birthday with this luxurious edition decked out with an additional 17 tracks. The solo concert at the BBC on February 23, 1971, will surely be a gem among collectors of Neil Young bootlegs. As a bonus, there are alternative versions of three tracks ("Bad Fog of Loneliness", "Journey Through the Past" and "Dance Dance Dance"). This 50th Anniversary Deluxe Edition is surely a must-have. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

On Be Yourself Tonight, Eurythmics' most commercially successful and hit-laden album, the duo meticulously blended the new wave electronic elements that dominated their previous sets with the harder straight-edged rock and soul that would dominate later sets to come up with a near-perfect pop album. This disc scored no less than four hit singles and kept them a mainstay on MTV's play lists during the channel's heyday. Fusing pop, soul, rock, electronic beats, and even gospel, this is arguably the duo's finest moment. The first hit, "Would I Lie to You," is a straight-forward rocker, complete with great guitar licks, a soulful horn section, and Annie Lennox sounding as vicious and vivacious as ever. The second single, which was a huge chart topper in Europe, "There Must Be an Angel," is nothing short of shimmering beauty, with Lennox providing truly angelic vocals and Stevie Wonder lending an enchanting harmonica solo. Aretha Franklin lends her powerhouse pipes for the duet "Sisters Are Doin' It for Themselves," which has gone on to become an immortal feminist anthem. From the soulful electronic beats (a rarity) in "It's Alright (Baby's Coming Back)" to the beauty of the Elvis Costello duet "Adrian" to the pain and longing of the sorrowful rocker "Better to Have Lost in Love (Than Never to Have Loved at All)," this album runs a wide array of musical styles, each song standing tall on its own two feet. This disc is, without a doubt, one of the best rock/pop albums from the 1980s and one of the grandest, most creative albums delivered by the ever-appealing and innovative duo of Annie Lennox and Dave Stewart. A true classic.© Jose Promis /TiVo

The best Beach Boys album, and one of the best of the 1960s. The group here reached a whole new level in terms of both composition and production, layering tracks upon tracks of vocals and instruments to create a richly symphonic sound. Conventional keyboards and guitars were combined with exotic touches of orchestrated strings, bicycle bells, buzzing organs, harpsichords, flutes, Theremin, Hawaiian-sounding string instruments, Coca-Cola cans, barking dogs, and more. It wouldn't have been a classic without great songs, and this has some of the group's most stunning melodies, as well as lyrical themes which evoke both the intensity of newly born love affairs and the disappointment of failed romance (add in some general statements about loss of innocence and modern-day confusion as well). The spiritual quality of the material is enhanced by some of the most gorgeous upper-register male vocals (especially by Brian and Carl Wilson) ever heard on a rock record. "Wouldn't It Be Nice," "God Only Knows," "Caroline No," and "Sloop John B" (the last of which wasn't originally intended to go on the album) are the well-known hits, but equally worthy are such cuts as "You Still Believe in Me," "Don't Talk," "I Know There's an Answer," and "I Just Wasn't Made for These Times." It's often said that this is more of a Brian Wilson album than a Beach Boys recording (session musicians played most of the parts), but it should be noted that the harmonies are pure Beach Boys (and some of their best). Massively influential upon its release (although it was a relatively low seller compared to their previous LPs), it immediately vaulted the band into the top level of rock innovators among the intelligentsia, especially in Britain, where it was a much bigger hit.© Richie Unterberger /TiVo

Helado Negro's music radiates softness and sensuality. The American singer and composer, who sings in both English and Spanish, depending on the mood and emotion, is on a journey toward sonoric fulfillment. His ninth album, Phasor, is deeply inspired by contemplating nature and the fascination that comes from that. This is largely due to one element, a constant presence at its core: the Sal-Mar synthesizer, created in 1969 by composer Salvatore Martirano and a team of engineers from the University of Illinois. From this instrument, he extracts a remarkable warmth, and above all ideas, often transforming them into loops, which he repeats, and, to an extent, modulates, evolving them by adding, taking away, changing or cutting, always with a desire to create music that begs to be cozied up to with its velvety smoothness. Warm, exaggerated bass, ghostlike electronic clinking, fully-embodied melodies…It's a fantastic album, skilfully simple, and capable of describing traffic jams like forests and observing human nature as much as nature itself. © Brice Miclet/Qobuz

Bon Jovi had perfected a formula for hard pop/rock by the time of New Jersey, concentrating on singalong choruses sung over and over again, frequently by a rough, extensively overdubbed chorus, producing an effect not unlike what these songs sounded like in the arenas and stadiums where they were most often heard. The lyrics had that typical pop twist -- although they nominally expressed romantic commitment, sentiments such as "Lay Your Hands on Me" and "I'll Be There for You" worked equally well as a means for the band and its audience to reaffirm their affection for each other. The only thing that marred the perfection of this communion was Jon Bon Jovi's continuing obsession with a certain predecessor from his home state; at times, he seemed to be trying to re-create Born to Run using cheaper materials.© William Ruhlmann /TiVo

For only the second time in her career, jazz pianist and vocalist Diana Krall deviates from her tried, true m.o. of covering easily identifiable jazz standards. On Glad Rag Doll she teams with producer T-Bone Burnett and his stable of studio aces. Here the two-time Grammy winner covers mostly vaudeville and jazz tunes written in the 1920s and '30s, some relatively obscure. Most of the music here is from her father's collection of 78-rpm records. Krall picked 35 tunes from that music library and gave sheet music to Burnett. He didn't reveal his final selections until they got into the studio. Given their origins, these songs remove the sheen of detached cool that is one of Krall's vocal trademarks. Check the speakeasy feel on opener "We Just Couldn't Say Goodbye," with Marc Ribot's airy chords, Jay Bellerose's loose shuffle, and Dennis Crouch's strolling upright bass. Krall's vocal actually seems to express delight in this loose and informal proceeding -- though her piano playing is, as usual, tight, top-notch. The shimmering sentimental nocturnal balladry there gives way to swing in "Just Like a Butterfly That's Caught in the Rain," which stands out because of the interplay between Ribot's ukulele, a pair of basses, and Bellerose's brushes. Krall's vocal hovers; she lets the melody guide her right through the middle. On the title cut, her only accompanist is Ribot on an acoustic guitar. Being the best-known tune in the bunch, it's easy to compare this reading with many others, but Krall's breathy vocal fully inhabits the lyric and melody and makes them her own. A few tracks stand apart from the album's theme. There's the modern take on Betty James' rockabilly single "I'm a Little Mixed Up," which allows Burnett to indulge himself a little and showcases a rarity: Krall playing rock & roll piano. The atmospheric reading of Doc Pomus' "Lonely Avenue" is somewhat radical, but is among the finest moments here. Burnett gets his obligatory reverb on here, but the weave of his and Ribot's guitars (and the latter's banjo) and the mandola by Howard Coward (Elvis Costello in one of several guest appearances) is arresting. The arrangement also contains an odd yet compelling reference to Miles Davis' "Right Off (Theme from Jack Johnson)"; Krall's piano solo is rife with elliptical, meandering lines and chord voicings. But vocally she gets inside the tune's blues and pulls them out with real authority. Glad Rag Doll is not the sound of Krall reinventing herself so much as it's the comfortable scratching of an old, persistent itch. The warmth, sophistication, humor, and immediacy present on this set make it a welcome addition to her catalog.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

When Blixa Bargeld left Nick Cave's Bad Seeds, who would have predicted his departure would result in one of the finest offerings in the band's catalog? Abbatoir Blues/The Lyre of Orpheus is a double CD or, rather, two completely different albums packaged in one very handsome box with a stylish lyric booklet and subtly colored pastel sleeves. They were recorded in a total of 16 days by producer Nick Launay (Kate Bush, Midnight Oil, Girls Against Boys, Silverchair, INXS, Virgin Prunes, et al.). Abbatoir Blues, the first disc in the set (packaged in pink, of course), is a rock & roll record. Yeah, the same guy who released the Boatman's Call, No More Shall We Part, and Nocturama albums has turned in a pathos-drenched, volume-cranked rocker, full of crunch, punishment -- and taste. Drummer Jim Sclavunos' aggressive, propulsive kit work is the bedrock of this set. It and Mick Harvey's storm-squall guitar playing shake things loose on "Get Ready for Love," which opens the album. As Cave goes right for God in the refrain -- "get ready for love" -- in the maelstrom, a gospel choir roaring "praise Him" responds. His tense, ambivalent obsession with theology is pervasive; he mocks the Western perception of God in the heavens yet seeks the mystery of His nature. That he does so while careening through a wall of noisy rock damage is simply stunning. It leaves the listener revved up and off-center for what comes next. The chorus -- members of the London Community Gospel Choir -- is prevalent on both records; the Bad Seeds' arrangement utilizes them wisely as counterpoint and mirror for Cave's own baritone. "Cannibal's Hymn" begins as a love song musically; it's chocked with Cave's dark wit and irony and ends far more aggressively while retaining its melody. The single, "Nature Boy," finds itself on Scalvunos' big beat. Cave and his piano use love's irony in contrast with cheap innuendo as underlined by the choir in their best soul croon. "Let Them Bells Ring" is a most dignified and emotionally honest tribute to Johnny Cash and the world he witnessed. The Western wrangle of "There She Goes, My Beautiful World" references Morricone's desert cowboy groove against a swirling cacophony of drums, bashing piano, and the chorus swelling on the refrain, while Cave name drops Johnny Thunders and poet Philip Larkin. The pace is fantastic; its drama and musical dynamics are pitched taut, with lulls in all the right places.The Lyre of Orpheus, by contrast, is a much quieter, more elegant affair. It is more consciously restrained, its attention to craft and theatrical flair more prevalent. But that doesn't make it any less satisfying. It is a bit of a shock after Abbatoir Blues, but it isn't meant for playing immediately afterward; it is a separate listening experience. The title track tells the myth's tale in Cave's ironical fashion, where God eventually throws a hammer at the subject and Eurydyce threatens to shove his lyre up his nether orifice. Warren Ellis' swampy bouzouki and Thomas Wydler's more stylized drumming move the band in the tense, skeletal swirl where chorus and Cave meet the music in a loopy dance. But in "Breathless," the bard of the love song emerges unfettered at the top of his poetic gift. On "Babe You Turn Me On," he wraps a bawdy yet tender love song in a country music waltz to great effect. But on this album, along with the gentleness, is experimentation with textures and wider dimensions. The sparser sound is freer, less structured; it lets time slip through the songs rather than govern them -- check the wall of Ellis' strings married to a loping acoustic guitar on the moving "Carry Me" as an example. Cave's nastiness and wit never remains absent for long, however, and on "O Children," the album's closer, it returns with this skin-crawlingly gorgeous ballad of murder and suicide. This set is an aesthetic watermark for Cave, a true high point in a long career that is ever looking forward.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

Everyone has their favorite Beatles record, but Revolver will always be a truly pivotal point, one of the most influential (THE most?) albums in the history of rock. This seventh studio recording, which was released in August 1966, waves goodbye to the friendly and playful image of the Fab Four from Liverpool in order for them to become the architects of a total pop revolution. With Revolver, backed by the indispensable production of George Martin, the group embarks on some of the wildest experiments in the service of creating their most fascinating material ever. They tinker with their sound and explore new territory once again, they thrive on prohibited substances (also evoked in their lyrics), introduce an impressive range of instruments (harpsichord, trumpet, sitar, organ...) and strengthen their writing, once so carefree in the infancy of their careers. Notably, the Fab Four then decided not to perform on stage again, preferring to use the recording studio as an instrument in itself, if not sometimes as an additional member. For the rest, the simple song titles written in procession is apt conclusion: Tomorrow Never Knows, Eleanor Rigby, I'm Only Sleeping, Got To Get You Into My Life, Taxman... ©MZ/Qobuz, Translation/BM