It was do or die for Toto on the group's fourth album, and they rose to the challenge. Largely dispensing with the anonymous studio rock that had characterized their first three releases, the band worked harder on its melodies, made sure its simple lyrics treated romantic subjects, augmented Bobby Kimball's vocals by having other group members sing, brought in ringers like Timothy B. Schmit, and slowed down the tempo to what came to be known as "power ballad" pace. Most of all, they wrote some hit songs: "Rosanna," the old story of a lovelorn lyric matched to a bouncy beat, was the gold, Top Ten comeback single accompanying the album release; "Make Believe" made the Top 30; and then, surprisingly, "Africa" hit number one ten months after the album's release. The members of Toto may have more relatives who are NARAS voters than any other group, but that still doesn't explain the sweep they achieved at the Grammys, winning six, including Album of the Year and Record of the Year (for "Rosanna"). Predictably, rock critics howled, but the Grammys helped set up the fourth single, "I Won't Hold You Back," another soft rock smash and Top Ten hit. As a result, Toto IV was both the group's comeback and its peak; it remains a definitive album of slick L.A. pop for the early '80s and Toto's best and most consistent record. Having made it, the members happily went back to sessions, where they helped write and record Michael Jackson's Thriller.© William Ruhlmann /TiVo

On 19 June 2006, someone called Taylor Swift released her first single, Tim McGraw, a straightforward homage to the country singer of the same name. She was only 17 and stood out as a potential future queen of country pop... A good decade later, queen she is: but of pop tout court! The Disney cowgirl getup is gone, replaced by the pop R&B icon who has conquered the heights of the charts, but who, above all, has been able to impose her style and her writing as a canonical part of the modern genre. With Reputation, her royal crown never threatens to fall from her head. On the contrary. With this sixth album, Taylor Swift certainly has not equalled 1989, her most accomplished record released in 2014, though she confirms that she is to her times what Madonna was to the 80s and 90s. Really, it should be enjoyed for what it is: great pop, with catchy choruses, pumped–up production (the Swedish pairing of Max Martin/Shellback as well as the American Jack Antonoff are in charge here) and her autobiographical lyrics which juggle with looove, liiife, fruuustration, saaadness, haaappiness, etc. Here, Taylor Swift unburdens her soul, in particular about how the limelight can burn, especially on Call It What You Want where she explains that she isn't what she's said to be… this saccharine orgy concludes with an even more melancholy piano ballad, New Year’s Day. We leave Reputation realising that the star has pulled clearly away ahead of Katy Perry, Lady Gaga and Miley Cyrus. © CM/Qobuz

Time has been good to Bonnie Raitt. At 72, she sounds great—and as strong as ever. The California roots-rock queen has said she wanted to try new styles on her 21st album, but there are no wild U-turns here. When she adopts a little Lyle Lovett jazziness on "Something's Got a Hold of My Heart"—accented by Glenn Patscha's seesaw piano and her own slow-hand guitar—she sounds like Nick of Time era Bonnie Raitt. Ditto the sexy, funky blues rock number "Waitin' for You to Blow," with its cocksure rhythm and a killer Hammond solo by Patscha. The whole thing sashays, and Raitt delivers the title line in a whispered growl that really belies her years. She plays around with R&B—heavy on the blues guitar—on the terrific "Made Up Mind," and tries on a little New Orleans street jazz sass for "Love So Strong." Her voice is so perfectly suited for the Dylan-esque ballad "Just Like That," about a man who died too young but donated his heart to save someone else's life. Told from the stricken perspective of his parents as they meet the man with their son's heart, she brings incredibly rich empathy to the story: "They say Jesus brings you peace and grace/ but he ain't found me yet," Raitt sings at first. Then, "I spent so long in darkness/ I thought the night would never end/ But somehow grace has found me/ and I had to let him in." There's a similar feel to "Down the Hall," a John Prine-like story song with the narrator finding redemption and hoping for good karma by caring for hospice patients—taking care of a dying stranger who has no one, washing his feet, shaving his bony head. Raitt, who has been making records for more than 50 years, is unafraid to face mortality on Just LIke That; it's a running theme, but matter-of-fact and in no way depressing. In fact, "Livin' for the Ones"—"Keep livin' for the ones who didn't make it/ Cut down through no fault of their own"—is absolutely alive with spitfire energy, a juke-joint blues rocker led by Raitt's ferocious guitar. "Just remember the ones who won't ever feel the sun on their faces again," she sings, and it feels like a jubilant rallying cry. She even makes amends on the Sunday-morning gospel blues of "Blame it On Me," drawing it out like taffy before she finally hits a high note of salvation and shifts the blame: "Ooooh, gonna blame it on you!" (After all, the clock's not stopped yet.) Raitt also sounds completely relaxed and like she's having a ball on "Here Comes Love"— a little bit of funk, a little jazz piano, a little street percussion. "Chicken 'n' dumplings that's all it's gonna take/ Just to make you stay for the ice cream cake" are the words of a woman who hasn't lost a beat. ©Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

As the double-disc The Fragile unfurls, all of Nine Inch Nails' trademarks -- gargantuan, processed guitars, ominous electro rhythms, near-ambient keyboards, Trent Reznor's shredded vocals and tortured words -- are unveiled, all sounding pretty much how they did on The Downward Spiral. Upon closer inspection, there are new frills, yet these aren't apparent without digging -- and what's on the surface isn't necessarily inviting, either. There is nothing as rhythmic or catchy as "Closer," nothing as jarring as the piano chorus of "March of the Pigs," no ballad as naked as "Hurt." When Reznor does try for something immediate and visceral, he sounds recycled. Fortunately, The Fragile lives up to its title once the first disc is over. There are some detours into noisy bluster (some, like the Marilyn Manson dis "Starfuckers, Inc.," work quite well) but they're surrounded by long, evocative instrumental sections that highlight Reznor's gifts for arrangement. Whenever Reznor crafts delicate, alternately haunting and pretty soundscapes or interesting sonic juxtapositions, The Fragile is compelling. Since they provide a change of pace, the bursts of industrial noise assist the flow of the album, which never feels indulgent, even though it runs over 100 minutes. Still, The Fragile is ultimately a letdown. There's no denying that it's often gripping, offering odd and interesting variations on NIN themes, but that's the problem -- they're just variations, not progressions. Considering that it arrives five years after Spiral, that is a disappointment. It's easy to tell where the time went -- Reznor's music is immaculately crafted and arranged, with every note and nuance gliding into the next -- but he spent more time constructing surfaces than songs. Those surfaces can be enticing but since it's just surface, The Fragile winds up being vaguely unsatisfying.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /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 a small acoustic group expands their numbers, it's usually with the intention of delivering a bigger and bolder sound, but Mandolin Orange are an act who continue to create a strikingly intimate record as they've expanded their instrumental range. Mandolin Orange started out as the duo of Andrew Marlin (vocals, guitar, mandolin) and Emily Frantz (vocals, fiddle, guitar), but they grew into a full band for 2016's Blindfaller, and they've continued with 2019's Tides of a Teardrop, where they're joined by Josh Oliver (guitars, keyboards, vocals), Clint Mullican (bass, baritone guitar), and Joe Westerlund (drums). However, the addition of a rhythm section and an occasional electric guitar has only reinforced the character of Mandolin Orange's music; their music evokes the sweet, quiet sorrow of late nights, long rides across the plains, and that moment when the snap of autumn begins to give way to the chill of winter. Marlin and Frantz are vocalists who have no trouble finding the emotional textures of a song, and their tales of love and ordinary life (penned by Marlin) are all the more powerful of the subtle details of their unforced delivery, and their harmonies are never showy but always add to the songs. Tides of a Teardrop may sound more flavorful than 2013's This Side of Jordan, but the extra ingredients haven't spoiled the soup, instead using their greater dynamics to deepen and emphasize their emotional peaks and valleys. The careful, nuanced interplay of the musicians is superb, and producer Marlin and engineer Julian Dreyer give the recordings a wide-open ambience that recalls the unobtrusive accuracy of a good bluegrass session with the telling atmosphere of slowcore classics like Low's Secret Name. Plenty of roots-oriented acts can do the high and lonesome thing, but Mandolin Orange make it cut like bourbon and soothe like honey on Tides of a Teardrop, and it's outstanding work from a group that grow more satisfying and accomplished with each release. [The initial edition of Tides of a Teardrop includes a bonus EP, Sing and Play Traditionals, featuring Frantz and Marlin offering spare interpretations of four folk standards. It's not quite as impressive as the material on the album, but the performances are spot-on and they approach the covers with the same emotional honesty as their originals.]© Mark Deming /TiVo

Following his early 2010s work on the first Captain America and Avengers films, composer Alan Silvestri returned to the Marvel universe for 2018's blockbuster Avengers: Infinity War. Landing in the Top 100 on the Billboard 200 upon release, the Avengers: Infinity War original motion picture soundtrack featured an epic, Thanos-sized score to pair with the non-stop intergalactic action of the film (with song titles that gave away nothing of the major plot twists).© Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo

The more things change in music, the more they stay the same. The alternative rockers of the 1990s may have caused so-called corporate rockers like Poison and Bon Jovi to become less visible, but at the same time, the worship of 1970s baby boomer culture was alive and well among post-baby boomers. In 1998, one of the most memorable examples of 1970s-flavored music came from the New Radicals. Although Radicals singer/leader Gregg Alexander was quick to espouse a left-wing point of view, Maybe You've Been Brainwashed Too doesn't beat listeners over the head with a sociopolitical agenda. Nor is the CD an exercise in angry 1990s angst rock. Rather, Alexander's band is a congenial and highly melodic throwback to the rock and blue-eyed soul of the early to mid-'70s. Alexander's vocals have a very Mick Jagger-ish quality, but while the Rolling Stones were a rock & roll band that occasionally dabbled in soul and funk, the Radicals favor pop/rock that is consistently mindful of classic Northern soul. Hook-happy offerings like "Jehovah Made This Whole Joint for You," "Flowers," and "Mother We Just Can't Get Enough" give the impression that Alexander holds the Stones and the artists of Motown Records in equally high regard. Without question, Brainwashed was among the more promising releases of late 1998.© Alex Henderson /TiVo

Paolo Fresu won't be stopped so easily! Not even at 60. In this, his birthday week, the Sardinian trumpeter with the XXL discography (his name appears on more than 300 records!) is releasing a triple album! The one who keeps slaloming between genres, inspirations and partners is offering up three sides of his art. This copious P60LO FR3SU opens with a remastered reissue of Heartland, a 2001 album featuring the voice of David Linx and arrangements for string quartet by Diederik Wissels. It closes with Heroes, a surprising vocal work, exclusively composed of David Bowie covers. These covers are often surprising and full of  freshness, performed by Petra Magoni and recorded at the end of 2020. Fresu has placed The Sun on the Sea, dead centre in this vocal romp. Also recorded in 2020, it was made with two faithful companions: his fellow bandoneonist Daniele Di Bonaventura and the Brazilian cellist Jaques Morelenbaum. A trio sailing on the currents of a Mediterranean jazz which is also pushed along by Latin American waves. More than two hours and forty-five minutes of protean and colourful music, made in the image of the trumpeter himself. © Clotilde Maréchal/Qobuz

Three years after her electronically robust sophomore outing, The Altar, and Banks has grown. On her aptly titled third set, III, she continues her upward trajectory with improved vocals and production value, presenting a wiser version of herself with more mature lyrics focused on longing, love, and loss, and fresh, expansive atmospherics that toy with her usual alt-R&B stylings. There's a refreshed spirit coursing through III that transforms her typically chilly and hypnotic aura into something grander. Whereas her first two releases maintained a fairly homogeneous, dark synth energy, III features a number of surprises that elevate the effort to new heights in her catalog. Key collaborators help buffer her vision, with frequent Kanye West sidemen Hudson Mohawke ("Gimme") and Francis and the Lights ("Look What You're Doing To Me"), R&B crooner Miguel ("The Fall"), and Adele/Rihanna producer Paul Epworth ("Hawaiian Mazes") contributing to a handful of highlights. In addition to the aforementioned "Gimme" and "Hawaiian Mazes," the throbbing "Stroke" features a late-song funk-bass injection that not only shifts the mood of the track, but also of the entire album. Later, the tribal "Alaska" and '80s synth pop gem "Propaganda" have the same effect, hinting at exciting new directions for future compositions. These creative bursts help Banks deliver her most accomplished statement to date, a collection brimming with emotion, attitude, and unexpected delights. © Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo