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

Moving from punk to symphonic music, even if it takes thirty years, isn’t something just anyone can do. Especially if, along the way, you zig-zag between techno, house, rock, ambient and even punk revival (with the album Animal Rights in 1997).  In 2021, Moby is still twisting and turning to avoid any and all labels that people might try to stick on him. The man who has become the image of the stereotypical "bedroom producer" is once again taking the world by storm with this collaborative album of covers featuring the likes of Gregory Porter, Jim James of My Morning Jacket, Mark Lanegan, Víkingur Ólafsson and the Budapest Art Orchestra. What's more, this album is being released with the most prestigious of classical music labels: Deutsche Grammophon.  It all started in 2018, when Venezuelan conductor Gustavo Dudamel took Moby to see the Los Angeles Philharmonic. This concert took him back to his childhood days, when he was raised on classical music. It reminded him of the ability that orchestras have of expressing nuance, depth, and emotions in much greater detail than a pop song can. And we have to pay tribute to the talent of the Budapest Art Orchestra, which successfully reframes Moby's radio hits. Natural Blues takes on an unsuspected breadth, thanks to the ensemble's backing vocals and Gregory Porter's soulful voice. Jim James' contribution renders Porcelain more poignant than ever.On Go, the Hungarian string section does most of the work, lending the song an even more epic quality. For the soaring, serene rendition of Heroes, a tribute to his personal hero David Bowie, Moby invites his favourite singing partner, Mindy Jones, with whom he has worked on Everything Was Beautiful, and Nothing Hurt and Innocent.  The Lonely Night also deserves special mention. The deep and comforting timbre of Kris Kristofferson’s voice makes this a perfect song for evenings by the fireside. It is just one more stylistic innovation in an album that's stuffed full of them. Despite the star-studded cast and the emotional richness of the material, this track sees Moby enjoying the simple things. © Smaël Bouaici/Qobuz

The War on Drugs' debut for Atlantic Records, A Deeper Understanding, is very much a follow-up to the group's critically acclaimed Top 30 breakthrough Lost in the Dream from three years prior. That album's notoriously meticulous blend of heartland rock influences, Bob Dylan, and a swirling dream rock constructed of Wurlitzers, tape effects, analog synths, and 12-string guitar, just to name a few components, is, if anything, even more expansive here. The Drugs recorded it as a six-piece with frontman/songwriter Adam Granduciel, bassist Dave Hartley, who's been in the picture since the band’s debut, keyboardist Robbie Bennett, drummer Charlie Hall, and multi-instrumentalists Jon Natchez and Anthony LaMarca, all but the latter of whom contributed to Lost in the Dream. There's no compromising to be found on their major-label debut, the first of a two-record deal that promises complete creative control to Granduciel. (To underscore that point, the first track released from A Deeper Understanding was the over-11-minute "Thinking of a Place.") The set's ten tracks drift unhurriedly over a course of more than an hour. Included along the way are a few additional timbres, such as the skittering electronic effects and stucco guitar textures of opener "Up All Night," the unexpected glint of glockenspiel on the bass-propelled tune "Holding On," and the saxophone on "Clean Living" with its sound distorted like a reflection. At first, these details hint at a possible redesign -- then just as quickly they don’t, as ears adjust to the broader palette. They weave their way into the hazy reverb, restrained pitch range, and shimmering, engulfing atmosphere that manages to never overpower Granduciel's gentle ruminations on relationships, overcoming, and just coping. Though there's nothing here to grab headlines, A Deeper Understanding reclaims and explores the distinctive soundscapes, vastness, and haunted psyche of Lost in the Dream, and that in itself is significant.© Marcy Donelson /TiVo

When the Wailers began recording their fifth album, they were in the middle of a contract dispute with CBS, the upshot being that Catch a Fire was their first record for Island under the auspices of Chris Blackwell. The band had recorded a batch of classic songs in Jamaica, then brought the tapes to London, where Blackwell proceeded to remix them, adding rock guitars and keyboards to a handful of tracks (with the band's ultimate approval). No matter how convoluted its creation might have been, Catch a Fire is a hands-down classic album that both defines and transcends the reggae genre while bringing it to a wider audience, and it started Bob Marley on his way to becoming a global star. As much as Marley became the hero over time, Fire is a group creation where the band, singers, and songwriters all worked together to create something greater than its individual elements. Yes, Marley wrote most of the songs and sang them with a pleasing blend of warmth and strength, but without the soothing, empowering harmonies of Bunny Wailer and Peter Tosh backing him, and the at once tight and elastic bounce and strut of the band driving him forward, the album wouldn't have been nearly as good. Tosh, too, takes lead on a couple of songs: the deeply soulful, Impressions-inspired "Stop That Train" and the fierce protest song "400 Years," which shovel coals onto the fire that blazes beneath much of the record's laid-back exterior. The album is a good mixture of songs like that -- as well as "Concrete Jungle" and "Slave Driver" -- that make the listener want to shout and fight, and those that are made for times when the lights get a little lower and thoughts turn to romance. "Stir It Up" is one of these, and its echoing guitars, bubbling organ, and shimmering synths pair with Marley's aching lead and the note-perfect backing vocals to create a wonderfully slinky baby-making jam. "Baby We've Got a Date (Rock It Baby)" is a little more insistent, featuring some almost strident female vocals, but the mood is similar. The only hitch is the wandering slide guitar, a slight misstep that could have been avoided if Blackwell had left well enough alone. Another tiny stumble comes on "No More Trouble," which is the kind of vague, sloganeering song Marley became more known for once he jettisoned the other two Wailers and took center stage. It's a pretty good attempt, though, and the funky clavinet gives the song some extra bite. Regardless of these faint faults, the album holds together incredibly well as a listening experience and features the original Wailers at their angriest, toughest, and most romantic peak. Anyone looking to check out reggae at its very best -- or Bob Marley before he became an omnipresent icon -- would do well to give Catch a Fire a spin.© Tim Sendra /TiVo

Although Eric Clapton has released a bevy of live albums, none of them have ever quite captured the guitarist's raw energy and dazzling virtuosity. The double live album Just One Night may have gotten closer to that elusive goal than most of its predecessors, but it is still lacking in many ways. The most notable difference between Just One Night and Clapton's other live albums is his backing band. Led by guitarist Albert Lee, the group is a collective of accomplished professionals who have managed to keep some grit in their playing. They help push Clapton along, forcing him to spit out crackling solos throughout the album. However, the performances aren't consistent on Just One Night -- there are plenty of dynamic moments like "Double Trouble" and "Rambling on My Mind," but they are weighed down by pedestrian renditions of songs like "All Our Past Times." Nevertheless, more than any other Clapton live album, Just One Night suggests the guitarist's in-concert potential. It's just too bad that the recording didn't occur on a night when he did fulfill all of that potential. © Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Does the cliché of the artist improving with time, just like good wine, apply to Van Morrison? For several years now, the old bard from Belfast has been unstoppable, publishing up to two albums a year. With Three Chords and the Truth (his sixth in four years!), he proves it is possible to have both quantity and quality. Composed of 14 previously unpublished songs (not covers, as was often the case on his previous records from the 2010’s), this 2019 vintage encapsulates all of Van The Man’s art. His unique style of jazz and blues tinged with gospel soul is supported by a refined, warm instrumentation. With his slick double bass, groovy vintage organ, raspy brass and inimitable voice, Van Morrison carries on carving his own path and the result often touches the sublime. His old guitarist Jay Berliner (found on Astral Weeks, his 1968 masterpiece) even brings a delicate touch to the record. And Bill Medley from The Righteous Brothers sings with him on Fame Will Eat the Soul. Ultimately, Van Morrison is never a parody of himself, and the pleasure that making music brings him at 74 years old is more than obvious. © Max Dembo/Qobuz

Every few years, it seems that the zeitgeist remembers the incredible and singular genius of Moondog. Although he died in 2005 and was composing and recording music into the 1990s, the "Viking of 6th Avenue" got his start on the streets of New York City in the mid-1950s, and was regarded as something of a beatnik oddity: a blind man with long hair and a beard (and, for a bit, a Viking helmet) who was a poet, composer, and philosopher willing to expound on any of those art forms from his post at the corner of 54th and Sixth. Early albums on jazz-affiliated labels cemented that reputation, but by the late 1960s, Moondog was being regarded less as a counterculture quirk and more as the thoughtful artist that he actually was. Two albums on Columbia Masterworks emphasized his modern compositional skills and his ability to fuse unique instrumentation and percussion with traditional orchestral arrangements. What Harry Partch was to rail-riding hobos, Moondog was to street musicians: a genius of modern music working literally outside of the great performance halls. Sporadic album releases (largely on European independent labels) followed throughout the '70s and '80s, and by the time his next (and final) major-label album was released (1994's stunning Sax Pax for a Sax), Moondog was in failing health; he died in 1999. Now, more than 20 years after his passing, the zeitgeist is again catching up with Moondog, with the pending release of Holly Elson's documentary film due imminently and, even more notably, this release, a long-overdue, multi-artist, high-profile tribute album. Appropriately bridging the worlds of contemporary classical music, jazz, and art-pop, Songs and Symphoniques was collaboratively spearheaded by Brooklyn jazz-folk ensemble Ghost Train Orchestra and Kronos Quartet. Those two groups' unique imprimatur makes this project so successful, as both are excellent at interpreting the spirit of works that have been obscured, misunderstood, or both; in the case of Kronos, it's often been daring new music compositions rendered more approachable in a string quartet setting, while Ghost Train has consistently breathed new vitality and muscularity into jazz pieces from the 78 rpm era. Here, their approaches converge on the unique percussive bounce that undergirded so many of Moondog's compositions, and all of the pieces are lively and swinging but still retain their original chromatic complexity. And, by bringing in a diverse group of vocal collaborators—ranging from Jarvis Cocker and Joan As Police Woman to Karen Mantler, Petra Haden, and a stunning duet with Aoife O'Donovan and Sam Amidon—his poetry is turned into some surprisingly effective lyrics. While the textures may shift from folk to jazz to chamber music, nothing seems to venture too far from the already disparate sonic approach of Moondog, making this tribute as endearing as it is daring. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

Early in March 1977, the Rolling Stones played a pair of surprise shows at the El Mocambo, a 300-seat club in Toronto. The purpose of the gigs, the only concerts they played in 1977, was to generate source material for a live album that turned out to be Love You Live. Only four tracks from the El Mocambo performances showed up on Love You Live, amounting to a side of blues covers on that double-LP. A full album's worth of El Mocambo recordings circulated as a bootleg for years, but the overdue 2022 official release contains the entirety of the second night's show along with three bonus tracks from the first night, amounting to a whopping 23 tracks. Such an exhaustive portrait is welcome as Live at the El Mocambo does represent a bit of an odd moment for the Stones: it captures them caught between the over-sized jam session Black and Blue and the audacious revitalization of Some Girls, a period where Ron Wood was just getting his sea legs. Wood encouraged the group to play a bunch of blues standards and they agreed, balancing these chestnuts with some of their own oldies ("Let's Spend the Night Together," "Brown Sugar," "Jumpin' Jack Flash," "Honky Tonk Women"), a good chunk of Black and Blue and It's Only Rock N Roll, plus "Worried About You," a ballad that sat on the shelf until Tattoo You. This means Live at the El Mocambo presents the Stones as something between a hard-working club band and conquering heroes hawking their latest ware; the set list is very much of its time, lacking such warhorses as "Satisfaction" and "Street Fighting Man," and it's better for it. The Stones often sound as if they're enjoying hunkering down on a smaller stage, giving enthusiastic performances that avoid sloppiness. It adds up to a gas, a record that belongs alongside Get Yer Ya-Ya's Out! and Brussels Affair as among the best official live Stones albums.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

In 2017, Gregory Porter released a tribute album - or rather a love letter, to the man he considers his ultimate hero: Nat King Cole. A remarkable musician who weaved his way between pure jazz and easy listening, an innovative and highly skilled pianist-virtuoso, and of course, a captivating singer/crooner with his deep, romantic and velvety voice that set him apart from everyone - this genius had never before been commemorated in so much style. In this live performance recorded on the prestigious stage of the Royal Albert Hall in London, Gregory Porter is supported by his trusty quartet (pianist Chip Crawford, bassist Jahmal Nichols, drummer Emanuel Harrold and saxophonist Tivon Pennicott) as well as by the 70 musicians of the London Studio Orchestra, conducted by Vince Mendoza. He features pieces that are closely associated with Nat King Cole (Mona Lisa, Nature Boy…) but also some of his own compositions ( Hey Laura, When Love Was King, Don’t Lose Your Steam…). Throughout One Night Only it is fascinating to see how Gregory Porter is just as comfortable when singing alongside the sophistication of the string section as he is in the rougher and groovier sequences. A vocal range that makes this show truly magical. © Clotilde Maréchal/Qobuz

Those following Beck Hansen since the dawn of the 90s know that he can play anything. Anything! From rural blues in Son House/Skip James fashion to Prince-like funk, slacker hip hop, Dylan-ian folk and lo-fi electro. If the tinkering ace from California first skyrocketed thanks to a convincing blend of folk and hip hop rhythms (the inevitable hymn Loser from 1993), he will over the years tend towards more classicism with Sea Changes (2002) and Morning Phase (2014). He’s done a complete 180° with Colors. This thirteenth album from Beck certainly isn’t lacking any hues. A vibrant mix of psychedelia à la Beatles, 80s pop, contemporary dancefloor, and funk crossed with hip hop, the stylistic kaleidoscope is complete! The wide variations are incidentally so far apart that they will probably rattle some newcomers. © CM/Qobuz

Symphony X's eighth studio opus (and first for Nuclear Blast), 2011's Iconoclast, sees the New Jersey progressive metal veterans exploring the potential dangers of technological overkill over the same prog-power-symphonic metal foundation that's served them well for two decades. Why mess with a winning formula, right? And so, the album's 11-minute title track pulls no major sonic surprises, yet still sets the album's sophisticated tone, thanks to the lush orchestrations and choirs draped across the band's traditionally metallic attack. Some might say it comes across like Queensrÿche's "Suite Sister Mary" on steroids, but it also represents the most overblown qualities to be found here, along with subsequent epics like the "Children of a Faceless God" and the disconsolate "When All Is Lost." A series of more compact tracks are included as well, but they obviously lack nothing in the way of instrumental complexities, nor do they drop the ball in terms of advancing the album's story line, as evidenced by the likes of "Dehumanized" and "Electric Messiah." Among these, power metal-infused numbers like "The End of Innocence" and "Bastards of the Machine" prove especially catchy, in spite of the consistent tornado of notes spun between guitarist Michael Romeo and keyboardist Michael Pinnella, not to mention the percussive barrage churned up by drummer Jason Rullo. Amid all this controlled mayhem, bassist Mike LePond acquits himself well for someone who basically has to hold down the low end while playing third fiddle in the band's own "Mike" hierarchy, but kudos must go as always to vocalist Russell Allen, whose tuneful gruffness and superior emoting always stands out from prog metal's commonly regimented, squeaky-clean, and often piercing singing stereotypes. This album finds Symphony X in top fighting form, adding another memorable chapter to their impressive and ever-expanding legacy.© Eduardo Rivadavia /TiVo

What better way of making a new record than surrounding yourself with new collaborators? That was the idea that Youn Sun Nah had for She Moves On. Four years after Lento, the Korean singer has taken on a close-knit group comprising John Zorn, Jamie Saft on the piano, the Hammond organ, the Fender Rhodes and the Wurlitzer (he also produced the record), and Brad Jones on the bass alongside drummer Dan Rieser, who worked with Norah Jones in Little Willies. But it is above all the presence of the guitarist Marc Ribot on five of these eleven tracks that draws attention. Surrounded by these four strong personalities, Youn Sun Nah explores a fairly varied repertoire that owes as much to rock as to folk, to rhythms as to lyrics, taking in covers of Joni Mitchell (The Dawntreader), Paul Simon (She Moves On), Lou Reed (Teach The Gifted Children), Jimi Hendrix (Drifting with a searing solo from Ribot) or the traditional Black Is The Color Of My True Love’s Hair. Three original compositions, Traveller, Evening Star and Too Late, complete this album which is resolutely inspired by American music and which presents her impressive voice in a context which rightly recalls Norah Jones, or Melody Gardot. But Youn Sun Nah's vocal personality is strong enough that she never seems to be stepping on her illustrious sisters’ toes, and she offers, from the outset, a record that is all her own. © MD/Qobuz