Teenage Dream did its job. With its five number one singles, the 2010 album turned Katy Perry into a genuine superstar, the kind of musician whose image rivaled her music in popularity, the kind who could topline her own 3-D theatrical documentary, the kind whose name became shorthand for a sugar-pop sensibility. This meant there was only one thing left for her to do on its 2013 sequel, Prism: to make a graceful pivot from teen dream to serious, mature artist. Prism hits these marks precisely yet isn't stuffy, not with its feints at trap-rap, but even with the preponderance of nightclub glitz, there isn't a shadow of a doubt that Katy Perry has toned down her cheesecake burlesque, opting for a hazy, dreamy, sun-kissed hippie Californian ideal that quietly replaces the happily vulgar pinup of her earliest years. All the lingering nastiness of One of the Boys -- the smiling Mean Girl backstabbing of "Ur So Gay," for instance -- and the pneumatic Playboy fantasy of Teenage Dream are unceremoniously abandoned in favor of Perry's candy construct of a chipper, cheerful grown-up prom princess, the popular girl who has left all her sneering dismissals in the past. Perry remains a terminal flirt but she channels her energies into long-term relationships -- the sexiest song, "Birthday," is a glorious retro-disco explosion delivered to a steady boyfriend, while elsewhere she testifies toward unconditional love -- and the overall effect transforms Prism into a relatively measured, savvy adult contemporary album, one that's aware of the latest fashions but is designed to fit into Katy's retirement plan. Ultimately, this makes Prism a tighter, cleaner record than its predecessors -- there are no extremes here, nothing that pushes the boundaries of either good taste or tackiness; even when she cheers on excess on "This Is How We Do" she's not a participant but rather a ringmaster, encouraging her fans to spend money they don't have just so they can have a good time. Ultimately, this sense of reserve reveals just how canny Katy Perry really is: she's determined to give her career a dramatic narrative arc, eager to leave behind the bawdy recklessness of her early years in favor of something that's age appropriate. That's why the lead single from Prism was "Roar," an homage to Sara Bareilles so transparent that the singer/songwriter may deserve co-credit: the inspirational adult contemporary single signaled how Perry no longer views herself as a fluffy confection but rather a showbiz staple who'll be here for years and years, and Prism fully lives up to that carefully constructed ideal.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

In the year of his 90th birthday (which he would have celebrated on the 23rd of September 2020 had he not died in 2004), Ray Charles is honoured with a new 90-track compilation box set. Just another compilation like all the rest? Yes and no. Ray Charles is undoubtedly one of the most-compiled artists in the history of music. Published by Tangerine, the label that the musician set up at the end of the 50s to keep the rights to his songs, this box set starts out like all the others: with the post-Atlantic hits, Georgia On My Mind, Hit The Road Jack, One Mint Julep, Busted... These are timeless treasures of proto-soul, but there doesn't seem to be much novelty here. The rest is much more interesting, and much rarer: tracks recorded between the second half of the 1960s and the 2000s, many of which were only released on vinyl, never reissued on CD and until now unavailable on digital. This is the first time that Ray Charles' lesser-known years have been given the compilation treatment in this way, and it is a revelation. In the 90s and 2000s, the production of his songs had a synthetic feel, and they did not age too well. These rarer songs are often hidden gems of southern soul, flavoured with country and wrapped in sumptuous symphonic orchestrations. Whether he is singing the Muppets (It's Ain't Easy Being Green) or Gershwin (Summertime, a duet with Cleo Laine), Ray Charles is always deeply moving. Now, the dream is to hear reissues of all these albums in their entirety. © Stéphane Deschamps/Qobuz

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No-one could accuse Kurt Elling of spinning his wheels or resting on his laurels. After Secrets Are the Best Stories (2020) which he wrote with pianist Danilo Pérez around themes of human rights, immigration and climate change, the Chicago singer has released an album of... pure funk! It's a torrent of lava put together with guitarist and producer Charlie Hunter. And to flesh out this SuperBlue, the double-act brought on board drummer Corey Fonville and bassist/keyboardist DJ Harrison, both members of Butcher Brown... Whether he was juggling bebop, pop or neo-soul, Elling always had a pretty funky rhythm. Here obviously, everything gets turned up a notch with original compositions but also covers of a Wayne Shorter theme (Where to Find It) or Freddie Hubbard (Super Blue), the radio-friendly The Seed Cody Chestnutt, and Circus by Tom Waits. The originality of the project lies in the muted approach. The funk is there, real, solid. But the warm, low, nonchalant voice of the American crooner gives it a rather original form. With SuperBlue, funk comes to Kurt Elling: not vice versa. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

Teenage Dream did its job. With its five number one singles, the 2010 album turned Katy Perry into a genuine superstar, the kind of musician whose image rivaled her music in popularity, the kind who could topline her own 3-D theatrical documentary, the kind whose name became shorthand for a sugar-pop sensibility. This meant there was only one thing left for her to do on its 2013 sequel, Prism: to make a graceful pivot from teen dream to serious, mature artist. Prism hits these marks precisely yet isn't stuffy, not with its feints at trap-rap, but even with the preponderance of nightclub glitz, there isn't a shadow of a doubt that Katy Perry has toned down her cheesecake burlesque, opting for a hazy, dreamy, sun-kissed hippie Californian ideal that quietly replaces the happily vulgar pinup of her earliest years. All the lingering nastiness of One of the Boys -- the smiling Mean Girl backstabbing of "Ur So Gay," for instance -- and the pneumatic Playboy fantasy of Teenage Dream are unceremoniously abandoned in favor of Perry's candy construct of a chipper, cheerful grown-up prom princess, the popular girl who has left all her sneering dismissals in the past. Perry remains a terminal flirt but she channels her energies into long-term relationships -- the sexiest song, "Birthday," is a glorious retro-disco explosion delivered to a steady boyfriend, while elsewhere she testifies toward unconditional love -- and the overall effect transforms Prism into a relatively measured, savvy adult contemporary album, one that's aware of the latest fashions but is designed to fit into Katy's retirement plan. Ultimately, this makes Prism a tighter, cleaner record than its predecessors -- there are no extremes here, nothing that pushes the boundaries of either good taste or tackiness; even when she cheers on excess on "This Is How We Do" she's not a participant but rather a ringmaster, encouraging her fans to spend money they don't have just so they can have a good time. Ultimately, this sense of reserve reveals just how canny Katy Perry really is: she's determined to give her career a dramatic narrative arc, eager to leave behind the bawdy recklessness of her early years in favor of something that's age appropriate. That's why the lead single from Prism was "Roar," an homage to Sara Bareilles so transparent that the singer/songwriter may deserve co-credit: the inspirational adult contemporary single signaled how Perry no longer views herself as a fluffy confection but rather a showbiz staple who'll be here for years and years, and Prism fully lives up to that carefully constructed ideal.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Montell Jordan was blessed with a strong set of producers for his debut album, This Is How We Do It. Working with material that is essentially sub-par, the production team turns in seamless performances, creating hooks and melodies from the deep bass and beats. Jordan's skills as a rapper are fine -- he does nothing particularly noteworthy, yet he certainly does not ruin the tracks. It was just the sort of competent R&B that hits the chart, and it did hit the charts, becoming a number one R&B album.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Deana Carter's debut album may have seemed like the arrival of an overnight sensation, but that was hardly the truth. Carter cracked it finally at 30, after trying since she was 17 as the daughter of kicking country guitar picker Fred Carter. With its ironic odd title and its mix of singer/songwriter folk, new traditionalist country, and pop, Carter came up with a winner. Produced by Chris Farren and Jimmy Bowen, Carter's album features six originals, including the title track, "Count Me In," the amazing opener, "I've Loved Enough to Know," with its hooky guitars, shimmering fiddles, and cascading pianos, the gorgeous "Love Ain't Worth Making" and "Before We Ever Heard Goodbye," and "How Do I Get There." These are the album's strongest tunes, full of passion and sincerity regarding love, its fulfillment and impossibility, as well as its mystery. And the woman can write a hook. There's a radio-friendly rock and pop feel to tracks such as Mac Wiseman's hard country tonkin' "If This Is Love" and Matraca Berg's pedal steel-ringing "Strawberry Wine." That she sold a few million copies of this record to country fans is not surprising at all; that she sold a few million more to AAA radio fans and to those whose musical tastes are dictated by NPR is. Most of these folks bitch like crazy about "young country," and Carter defined it with her very first record in all the best ways: using the country tradition to make fine, well-crafted music that appeals to a broad range of tastes.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

The jazz/hip-hop and acid-jazz schools continue to generate interesting, if erratic projects. The Solsonics' instrumentals and reworkings and incorporation of such jazz classics as Freddie Hubbard's "Red Clay" and Ahmad Jamal's "Superstition" are intriguing, featuring fine solos from saxophonist Jim Akimoto, trumpeter Elliot Caine, keyboardist Mike Boito and special guests like guitarist Norman Brown. When lyrics and vocalists are included, the quality dips, mainly because they didn't find a lyricist whose contributions matched their playing skills. But their spirit, intensity and interaction are so good that it's easy to overlook the trite lines and lightweight vocals.© Ron Wynn /TiVo

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The discovery of Artaxerxes by Thomas Arne was a nice surprise for Joseph Haydn, who was unaware that such operas existed in England. Performed practically without interruption in London from 1762 to 1830, it was probably also seen by the young Mozart. At any rate, this is a likelihood suggested by the conductor Ian Page, a great connoisseur of British musical life in the eighteenth century, who has released this album with his ensemble The Mozartists.Adapted into English from the libretto of Metastasio's Artaserse, which was probably written by the composer himself, this 'opera seria' premiered at Covent Garden in 1762 to great acclaim before falling into obscurity until it was revived two hundred years later at the St Pancras Festival. The work is bursting with virtuoso arias, some of which have remained in circulation among singers.This recording was made in 2009 following a series of performances to mark the three-hundredth anniversary of the birth of Thomas Arne, at the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden where Artaxerxes was created. It was selected as record of the year by Audiophile Audition and BBC Radio 3's CD review, and was named record of the month by the UK magazine Opera. Thomas Arne wrote around 30 operas, and is seen as a representative of the "gallant style" that extended throughout Europe. His fame was somewhat overshadowed by the ubiquitous output of the "bulldozer" Handel, whose genius reigned over English opera for more than fifty years. © François Hudry/Qobuz