If Dream of the Blue Turtles was an unabashedly pretentious affair, it looks positively lighthearted in comparison to Sting's sophomore effort, Nothing Like the Sun, one of the most doggedly serious pop albums ever recorded. This is an album where the only up-tempo track, the only trifle -- the cheerfully stiff white-funk "We'll Be Together" -- was added at the insistence of the label because they believed there wasn't a cut on the record that could be pulled as a single, one that would break down the doors to mainstream radio. And they were right, since everything else here is too measured, calm, and deliberately subtle to be immediate (including the intentional throwaway, "Rock Steady"). So, why is it a better album than its predecessor? Because Sting doesn't seem to be trying so hard. It flows naturally, largely because this isn't trying to explicitly be a jazz-rock record (thank the presence of a new rhythm section of Sting and drummer Manu Katche for that) and because the melodies are insinuating, slowly working their way into memory, while the entire record plays like a mood piece -- playing equally well as background music or as intensive, serious listening. Sting's words can still grate -- the stifling pompousness of "History Will Teach Us Nothing" the clearest example, yet calls of "Hey Mr. Pinochet" also strike an uneasy chord -- but his lyricism shines on "The Lazarus Heart," "Be Still My Beating Heart," "They Dance Alone," and "Fragile," a quartet of his very finest songs. If Nothing Like the Sun runs a little too long, with only his Gil Evans-assisted cover of "Little Wing" standing out in the final quarter, it still maintains its tone until the end and, since it's buoyed by those previously mentioned stunners, it's one of his better albums.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Gary Clark, Jr. pushes hard on the envelope in JPEG RAW.  He's grown far beyond the blues into a multi-faced presence steeped in a variety of genres, from blues to pop and prog rock to the frontiers of modern funk.  Rather than referring to a digital photo file, JPEG here stands for "Jealousy, Pride, Envy, Greed," while RAW is an acronym for "Rules, Alter Ego, Worlds." Given that kind of ambition, it's no surprise that Clark's lyrics have branched out into life's most pressing conflicts, including a plea for unity in the album opener "Maktub": "And if we don't get it ourselves/ Then we can't be mad when we don't receive the paper/ We've come too far for our seeds to continue to look back and say/ That's the way it went." Using a favorite vocal effect over big beats in "Don't Start (feat. Valerie June)," Clark rages when he finds his woman cheating: "Better run, better, run and hide/ Better call your God, cause oh lord I'm 'bout to kill that man." The vocal processing is an acquired taste that appears several times but does not diminish Clark's performance, his most impressive as a singer to date.  Accompanied only by his effects-free electric guitar, Clark croons the short love song "To The Ends of the Earth" in a beautiful clear voice. On the following track, "Alone Together," he switches to smooth funk mode and a falsetto that's unmistakably reminiscent of Curtis Mayfield.  "Hyperwave" gives off a refreshing vibe of Prince's rhythmic vitality.  His collaboration with Stevie Wonder, "What About the Children," is a huge success, brimming with genuine emotion and melodic joy to spare. Clark continues his mastery of a wide variety of instruments, handling guitar, drums, synths, mellotron and percussion on most cuts. Produced by Clark and Jacob Sciba, JPEG RAW was recorded at various studios including Arlyn Studios, where it was also mixed. Loaded with effects and plug-ins, the sound, while processed, does not overdo its enhancements. From a blues cocoon, Clark is an original artist spreading his wings. © Robert Baird/Qobuz

Since starting out ten years ago as a hip-hop and chill electro producer for Délicieuse Musique, Parisian electronic producer Viken Arman has established himself as one of the leading names on the melodic house scene, exporting his contemplative music to all four corners of the globe. But for his first album, he took refuge in the beating heart of the global electronic scene, in Berlin. The city of a thousand clubs has often been a springboard for the artists it has hosted over the last twenty years, and Arman is no exception. Though he may have dreamed of a first album filled with collaborations with jazz musicians and singers, on Alone Together (the title says it all) he stands proudly alone, without guests or vocals. "What's important is that it's aligned with the present moment. You don't always have to overthink it", he philosophises. Throughout the writing of the album the energy of dance music is ever-present, with tracks of varying formats at 2, 4 and 9 minutes in length, as well as twists such as the unstoppable “You Don’t Hurt Me” where he accelerates the beat right at the drop before going into electro swing mode, breathing an irresistible pulse into the second half of the track. He alternates between shamanic house à la Acid Pauli (with whom he released “Reading from a Secret” in 2022) and French Touch-style house (“Can't Do Without You”) before bringing this trippy journey to a close with “Alone Together”, launched by a cosmic synth which is joined by an endlessly stubborn keyboard loop. One for the club or the desert! © Smaël Bouaici/Qobuz

In 1954, Chet Baker was named trumpeter of the year by the American jazz press. Miles Davis wrote in his autobiography, “I think he knew he didn’t deserve it over Dizzy and a lot of other trumpet players. [...] Both him and me knew that he had copied a lot of sh*t from me”. Whatever Miles may have said or written, Chet Baker’s name was certainly on everyone’s lips in the 1950’s. Even when he played alongside some of the best musicians in the business like Charlie Parker, Gerry Mulligan and Russ Freeman, Baker still held his own. The angel-faced musician based in Los Angeles played a pivotal role in the development of cool/West Coast jazz and in 1958 he signed a four-album contract with Riverside Records, a New York label who was captivated by his music. The complete collection of The Legendary Riverside Albums, released in autumn 2019, is a compilation of essential tracks showcasing a musician far more versatile than he may at first appear, who glamorized California’s cool jazz but was also able to work alongside hard bop heavyweights from the East Coast. In addition to these four re-mastered albums in Hi-Res 24-Bit, he compiled a number of alternative takes from these sessions into a fifth album. The first of these four albums (Chet Baker Sings) It Could Happen to You, released in October 1958, shows his originality as he has a modern take on standards such as How Long Has This Been Going On? and Old Devil Moon. Unlike his business partner Bill Grauer, producer Orrin Keepnews was initially reluctant to welcome Chet Baker to his label and therefore didn’t produce this first album. But as it happens, after hearing Chet’s singing accompanied by Kenny Drew on piano, George Morrow and Sam Jones on double bass and Philly Joe Jones and Dannie Richmond on drums, Keepnews ended up being seriously impressed. Compared with the great singers of the time Chet Baker was just as innovative with his vocals as he was when playing his instrument. He stayed true to himself and his own style – which is a real testament to his character. One month later he was back in the studio working on Chet Baker in New York, which was released in 1959 featuring Johnny Griffin on saxophone, Al Haig on piano and Paul Chambers on double bass. This album really raised the bar as the musicians take on some exquisite solos in ballads such as Polka Dots and Moonbeams and much more up-tempo hits such as the lively Hotel 49. Perhaps the most impressive of the lot is the album Chet, recorded on December 30 th 1959 and 19 th January 1959, featuring pianist Bill Evans, guitarist Kenny Burrell, flutist Herbie Mann and saxophonist Pepper Adams. You can hear the languor of Chet’s playing more than ever as the music takes on an all-new impressionistic feel and Evans’ wonderful phrases on piano are completely in sync. From the first few seconds of the opening track of this masterpiece, Alone Together, with its stunning cover (Chet with model Rosemary “Wally” Coover, photographed by Melvin Sokolsky), the sensual and minimalist style give the album a more modern style. Later in July of that same year (1959), he recorded Chet Baker Plays the Best of Lerner & Loewe to round off his brief episode with Riverside Records. It covers Broadway hits from musicals such as My Fair Lady, Gigi, Brigadoon and Paint Your Wagon by lyricist Alan Jay Lerner and composer Frederick Loewe. Chet is once again joined by Bill Evans, Pepper Adams and Herbie Mann here, as well as saxophonist Zoot Sims. His repertoire is just as distinctive as ever as he makes an esthetic sleight of hand when covering these tracks by adding his melancholic phrasing. Great music. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

Conversations with Christian is an unusual release, as it features the veteran bassist playing duets with a number of good friends. The vocal meetings include Angélique Kidjo, Sting, and Dee Dee Bridgewater (the latter with a hilarious, funky cover of the Isley Brothers' signature song "It's Your Thing"). The pairings with musicians of McBride's generation (trumpeter Roy Hargrove, tenor saxophonist Ron Blake, and guitarist Russell Malone) all exceed expectations. There are several enjoyable duets with pianists, one featuring Latin jazz master Eddie Palmieri, a duo improvised tango by Chick Corea and the leader, plus an all too rare acoustic outing by the talented George Duke (who tears up the keyboard with his hard-charging "McDukey Blues"). But McBride's meetings with Dr. Billy Taylor (playing his beautiful "Spiritual" with some potent arco playing by the bassist) and the elegant, swinging meeting with the gifted jazz master Hank Jones ("Alone Together") remain moments to savor, as they are among the final recordings by the two jazz greats, both of whom died in 2010. The last track is a funky blues just for laughs, with actress Gina Gershon joining the bassist by playing a Jew's harp, and featuring lots of comic spoken exchanges between the two. Throughout it all, Christian McBride plays with the chameleon-like adaptability of a Milt Hinton or Ray Brown. In the two-plus decades since arriving on the jazz scene, Christian McBride has demonstrated that he is a jazz master in the making, and this is easily one of his most compelling sets. © Ken Dryden /TiVo

In the '50s, the party line among New York jazz critics was that hard bop was the "true faith" and that cool jazz was lightweight and unemotional. But Miles Davis knew better. The trumpeter (whose Birth of the Cool sessions of 1949-1950 proved to be incredibly influential) was smart enough to realize that cool jazz and hard bop were equally valid parts of the house that Charlie Parker built, and he had no problem working with cool jazzmen one minute and hard boppers the next. Recorded for Charles Mingus' Debut label in 1955, Blue Moods is an excellent example of cool jazz. However, not all of the musicians who join Davis on this album were full-time members of jazz's cool school. Although vibist Teddy Charles was cool-oriented, Mingus (upright bass) and Elvin Jones (drums) were never considered cool players -- and the lyrical trombonist Britt Woodman was, in the '50s, best known for his association with Duke Ellington. Nonetheless, the things that characterized cool jazz -- subtlety, restraint, and understatement -- characterize Blue Moods. Mingus and Jones were certainly capable of being forceful and aggressive, but you won't hear them being intense on this disc; a very laid-back, gently introspective approach prevails on interpretations of "Easy Living," "Alone Together," "Nature Boy," and "There's No You." Clocking in at 27 minutes, Blue Moods is quite skimpy by most standards -- unfortunately, Fantasy didn't have any alternate takes to add. But even so, Blue Moods offers considerable rewards to those who have a taste for '50s cool jazz.© Alex Henderson /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

As a trio, this edition of guitarist Grant Green's many ensembles has to rank with the best he had ever fronted. Recorded on April Fool's Day of 1961, the band and music are no joke, as bassist Ben Tucker and drummer Dave Bailey understand in the most innate sense how to support Green, lay back when needed, or strut their own stuff when called upon. Still emerging as an individualist, Green takes further steps ahead, without a pianist, saxophonist, or -- most importantly -- an organist. His willpower drives this music forward in a refined approach that definitely marks him as a distinctive, immediately recognizable player. It is also a session done in a period when Green was reeling in popular demand, as this remarkably is one of six recordings he cut for Blue Note as a leader in 1961, not to mention other projects as a sideman. To say his star was rising would be an understatement. The lean meatiness of this group allows all three musicians to play with little hesitation, no wasted notes, and plenty of soul. Another aspect of this studio date is the stereo separation of Green's guitar in one speaker, perhaps not prevalent in modern recordings, but very much in use then. Check out the atypical (for Green) ballad "'Round About Midnight," as the guitarist trims back embellishments to play this famous melody straight, with a slight vibrato, occasional trills, and a shuffled bridge. The trio cops an attitude similar to Dizzy Gillespie for the introduction to "Alone Together," with clipped melody notes and a bass filler from Tucker. Three of Green's originals stamp his personal mark on rising original soulful post-bop sounds, as "No. 1 Green Street" has basic B-flat, easy-grooving tenets similar to his previously recorded tune "Miss Ann's Tempo." Two interesting key changes and chord accents identify the outstanding "Grant's Dimensions" beyond its core bop bridge and jam configuration -- not the least of which contains a hefty bass solo from the criminally underrated Tucker and Bailey trading fours. "Green with Envy" should be familiar to fans of Horace Silver, as it is almost identically based on the changes of "Nica's Dream," a neat adaptation full of stop-starts and stretched-out improvising over ten minutes. (The alternate take of this one on the expanded CD reissue is a full two minutes shorter.) If this is not a definitive jazz guitar trio, they have not yet been born, and Green Street stands as one of Grant Green's best recordings of many he produced in the ten prolific years he was with the Blue Note label.© Michael G. Nastos /TiVo

Early on in Save Rock and Roll, Patrick Stump sings he'll change you like a remix then raise you like a phoenix, words written, as always, by Pete Wentz, and sentiments that place this 2013 Fall Out Boy comeback in some kind of perspective. After the absurdly ambitious 2008 LP Folie à Deux, the band expanded and imploded, winding up in a pseudo-retirement where Stump released an inspired but confused solo record while Wentz pursued Black Cards, a band that went nowhere. Failure has a way of reuniting wayward souls, and so Stump, Wentz, Joe Trohman, and Andy Hurley all settled their differences and cut Save Rock and Roll, an album that acts like Fall Out Boy never went away while simultaneously acknowledging every trend of the last five years. Alone among their peers, Fall Out Boy are always acutely conscious of what's on the charts, not limiting themselves to the brickwalled blast of modern rock but also dipping into the crystalline shimmer of R&B and even sending up the folk stomp of Mumford & Sons on "Young Volcanoes." One of great things about Fall Out Boy -- the thing that's infuriating and intoxicating in equal measure -- is that it's difficult to discern where their sincerity ends and their parody begins. That's particularly true of Save Rock and Roll, where the group is negotiating its rapidly approaching maturity along with the fashions of the time. They're not entirely successful, partially because they rely on their trusty emo onslaught of unmodulated chords and emotions, partially because there still is a lingering suspicion that they may not truly believe anything they sing. Nevertheless, they're ambitious, admirable, and sometimes thrilling, particularly because the group never fears to tread into treacherous waters, happy to blur the distinctions between pop and rock, mainstream and underground. They bring in Courtney Love to snarl like it's 1993, they have Elton John act like the grand dame he is, but neither overshadows the group's intoxicatingly smeary stance on what rock & roll is. They're not traditionalists -- they're not about three chords and the truth, they're about misdirection and hiding their emotions, then letting it all spill out in one headstrong rush. In 2013, when so many bands are donning tweed caps and pining for a past that never existed, it's kind of fun to have a band tackle the modern world in all its mess as Fall Out Boy do here.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

If Dream of the Blue Turtles was an unabashedly pretentious affair, it looks positively lighthearted in comparison to Sting's sophomore effort, Nothing Like the Sun, one of the most doggedly serious pop albums ever recorded. This is an album where the only up-tempo track, the only trifle -- the cheerfully stiff white-funk "We'll Be Together" -- was added at the insistence of the label because they believed there wasn't a cut on the record that could be pulled as a single, one that would break down the doors to mainstream radio. And they were right, since everything else here is too measured, calm, and deliberately subtle to be immediate (including the intentional throwaway, "Rock Steady"). So, why is it a better album than its predecessor? Because Sting doesn't seem to be trying so hard. It flows naturally, largely because this isn't trying to explicitly be a jazz-rock record (thank the presence of a new rhythm section of Sting and drummer Manu Katche for that) and because the melodies are insinuating, slowly working their way into memory, while the entire record plays like a mood piece -- playing equally well as background music or as intensive, serious listening. Sting's words can still grate -- the stifling pompousness of "History Will Teach Us Nothing" the clearest example, yet calls of "Hey Mr. Pinochet" also strike an uneasy chord -- but his lyricism shines on "The Lazarus Heart," "Be Still My Beating Heart," "They Dance Alone," and "Fragile," a quartet of his very finest songs. If Nothing Like the Sun runs a little too long, with only his Gil Evans-assisted cover of "Little Wing" standing out in the final quarter, it still maintains its tone until the end and, since it's buoyed by those previously mentioned stunners, it's one of his better albums.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Chet Baker's penultimate session for Riverside -- which was strictly instrumental -- produced an all-star lineup to support him, including jazz heavyweights Pepper Adams, Bill Evans, and Kenny Burrell. Each of them makes important contributions to the session. Adams' baritone sax solo on "Alone Together" is one of the album's high points, while Herbie Mann and Bill Evans make their presence known on several cuts. Baker possessed one of the most melodious trumpets in jazz, compelling in its simplicity. Rarely extending his range above a single octave, he nonetheless had few peers when it came to slow, romantic ballads, which make up the playlist here. His characteristically soft approach is heard to good effect on "It Never Entered My Mind," where he works with the guitar of Kenny Burrell. Burrell and Baker also collaborate on a moving rendition of "September Song." Chet is a good place to hear Baker's special way with the horn, and is made even more attractive with the presence and contributions of top jazz artists. © Dave Nathan /TiVo

In the liner notes of Quiet Kenny, former Downbeat magazine publisher Jack Maher states that trumpeter Kenny Dorham's music is not necessarily the demure, balladic, rapturous jazz one might associate as romantic or tranquil. Cool and understated might be better watchwords for what the ultra-melodic Dorham achieves on this undeniably well crafted set of standards and originals that is close to containing his best work overall during a far too brief career. Surrounded by an excellent rhythm team of the equally sensitive pianist Tommy Flanagan, emerging bassist Paul Chambers, and the always-beneficial drummer Art Taylor, Dorham and his mates are not prone to missteps or overt exaggerations. One of Dorham's all-time best tunes "Lotus Blossom" kicks off the set with its bop to Latin hummable melody, fluid dynamics, and Dorham's immaculate, unpretentious tone. "Old Folks," a classic ballad, is done mid-tempo, while the true "quiet" factor comes into play on interesting version of "My Ideal" where Dorham gingerly squeezes out the slippery wet notes, and on the sad ballad "Alone Together." The rest of the material is done in easygoing, unforced fashion, especially the originals "Blue Friday" and the simple swinger "Blue Spring Shuffle" which is not really a shuffle. Never known as a boisterous or brash player, but also not a troubadour of romanticism -- until he started singing -- Dorham's music is also far from complacent, and this recording established him as a Top Five performer in jazz on his instrument. It comes recommended to all.© Michael G. Nastos /TiVo

A misconception has sometimes been associate with Norah Jones: that the Texan is little more than a pleasant light-jazz singer whose albums serve as harmless background music for high-brow and proper evening dinners. Though her writing, playing and eclectic collaborations, she has clearly proved that she is far more interesting than this cliché. And this 2020 offering is a new illustration of her complexity. As is often the case with Norah Jones, Pick Me Up Off the Floor is not quite jazz, not quite blues, not quite country, etc… Her genre-defying music works primarily to suit the song being played. Here we find what has been left behind after sessions with Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy, Thomas Bartlett, Mavis Staples, Rodrigo Amarante and several others.But for all that the result is not simply a contrived mishmash of collaborations but a collection of songs that hold the same silky groove (present on six out of 11 tracks on the record in which Brian Blade’s drums work delicate miracles) and calm sound which increasingly suits the artist, somewhere between pure poetry and realism. “Every session I’ve done, there’ve been extra songs I didn’t release, and they’ve sort of been collecting for the last two years. I became really enamoured with them, having the rough mixes on my phone, listening while I walk the dog. The songs stayed stuck in my head and I realised that they had this surreal thread running through them. It feels like a fever dream taking place somewhere between God, the Devil, the heart, the Country, the planet, and me.” Rarely has Norah Jones sang with such strength, like on I’m Alive where she sings of women’s resilience, or on How I Weep in which she tackles love and exasperation with unequalled grace. This Deluxe Edition contains two bonus tracks and a collection of 17 songs culled from Norah’s Live From Home weekly livestream series. Thie Live From Home selections include a mix of career-spanning originals and such covers as Guns N’Roses’ Patience, John Prine’s That’s The Way The World Goes Round and Ravi Shankar’s I Am Missing You. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz