Rhiannon Giddens' latest is a surprise and a delight—a mix of the mountain music we've come to expect from the Grammy winner but also a slew of solid gold soul. That new persona suits her very, very well, as Giddens turns into a funk diva for sassy opener "Too Little, Too Late, Too Bad"—a kiss-off to an ex trying to get back in. Bolstered by big, bright horns, shoop-shoop backing vocals and a feisty beat, Giddens growls her warning at "just an old dog with old tricks." Stirring, bass-throbbing "Wrong Kind of Right" picks up where Amy Winehouse tragically left off. And "You're the One" is a fascinating combo: Blending strutting soul and solid beats from producer Jack Splash, with Giddens' delicate banjo. The song breaks wide open at the chorus, then turns folky. Giddens isn't the only one having fun. Duet partner Jason Isbell positively cuts loose on "Yet to Be," a rootsy, Janis Joplin-style blues number that finds the two super-strong voices and personalities trading verses and weaving a rollicking harmony. The beats and horns turn ominous on "Another Wasted Life," a chronicle of brutality within America's justice and prison systems. "Doesn't matter what the crime/ If indeed there was the time/ He's given solitary time ... It's a torture of the soul/ The narrow confines of control/ Thrown down the stinking hole/ With no hope of release," Giddens sings. But she finds release, if not relief, chanting the title line of the chorus—setting off for a different stratosphere where she drags out the vocalizations. The second half of the record is more traditional, but in no way average or predictable. Giddens gets into mountain mischief on "You Louisiana Man," with trembling accordion from Dirk Powell, and sweetly lays down the law on "If You Don't Know How Sweet It Is," kicking back against a partner whining about tough steak, loud kids and unfolded laundry: "You're good, but I'll find better/ And it'll be without your bitching/ If you don't know how sweet it is/ Get on outta my kitchen!" "Hen in the Foxhouse" is sultry and playful, with a wild rhythm. Jazzy "You Put the Sugar in My Bowl" is old-timey flirtatious, and Giddens goes full Ella on the dreamy "Who Are You Dreaming Off," with its cymbal brushwork like an audio time portal. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Perhaps Tom Waits' most cohesive album, Bone Machine is a morbid, sinister nightmare, one that applied the quirks of his experimental '80s classics to stunningly evocative -- and often harrowing -- effect. In keeping with the title's grotesque image of the human body, Bone Machine is obsessed with decay and mortality, the ease with which earthly existence can be destroyed. The arrangements are accordingly stripped of all excess flesh; the very few, often non-traditional instruments float in distinct separation over the clanking junkyard percussion that dominates the record. It's a chilling, primal sound made all the more otherworldly (or, perhaps, underworldly) by Waits' raspy falsetto and often-distorted roars and growls. Matching that evocative power is Waits' songwriting, which is arguably the most consistently focused it's ever been. Rich in strange and extraordinarily vivid imagery, many of Waits' tales and musings are spun against an imposing backdrop of apocalyptic natural fury, underlining the insignificance of his subjects and their universally impending doom. Death is seen as freedom for the spirit, an escape from the dread and suffering of life in this world -- which he paints as hellishly bleak, full of murder, suicide, and corruption. The chugging, oddly bouncy beats of the more uptempo numbers make them even more disturbing -- there's a detached nonchalance beneath the horrific visions. Even the narrator of the catchy, playful "I Don't Wanna Grow Up" seems hopeless in this context, but that song paves the way for the closer "That Feel," an ode to the endurance of the human soul (with ultimate survivor Keith Richards on harmony vocals). The more upbeat ending hardly dispels the cloud of doom hanging over the rest of Bone Machine, but it does give the listener a gentler escape from that terrifying sonic world. All of it adds up to Waits' most affecting and powerful recording, even if it isn't his most accessible.© Steve Huey /TiVo

"THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND is a record that redefines experimentation in modern metalcore."© TiVo

Musical director of The Late Show with Stephen Colbert on CBS, film score composer (Soul, 2020), and multi award-winning musician for his solo album WE ARE in 2021, Jon Batiste is an artist that we might call a jack of all trades.The American returns in 2023 with World Music Radio, a record that, in a way, reflects this aspect of his personality: assuming the role of a griot/DJ and erasing musical frontiers, he embraces as many popular musics of the world as possible in order to prove the universal dimension of his own.As indicated by its title, this conceptual, erudite album takes the form of a radio show in which the host Jon Batiste broadcasts this musical firework from Earth to the rest of the universe. Even if on certain tracks, the insanity of the project falls a bit flat and transforms into mainstream pop, Jon Batiste hits the mark with songs like “My Heart” (with the jazz trombonist Rita Payés), “Calling Your Name” (with a melodica solo played by Batiste himself), as well as the moving piano ballad “Butterfly”, written for his wife Suleika Jaouad, who is fighting cancer. Apart from the aforementioned artists, World Music Radio is brimming with featured artists that also speak to the album’s international ambitions, from the saxophone solo of the legendary Kenny G on the interlude “Clair de lune”, to the stunning intervention of Français Chassol (on a track named after him), not to mention Lana Del Rey on the suave “Life Lesson”. © Nicolas Magenham/Qobuz

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

Like everybody else, Lana Del Rey is playing hide-and-seek with quarantine. For her seventh album, the New Yorker based in Los Angeles has opted for hushed intimacy, bedroom melodies and confessional arrangements. With Chemtrails Over the Country Club, her pop is folkier than ever, although the echo and reverb in which her exquisite, sensual and hypnotic voice basks set her high above the clouds. This folk idiom fascinates her to the point that she closes out this record (with some help from Natalie Mering aka Weyes Blood and Zella Day) with a magnificent cover of Joni Mitchell's For Free, taken from her album Ladies of the Canyon (1970). There are also those guitars with an air of the Laurel Canyon 70's scene about them on Not All Who Wander Are Lost, and the equally pure guitar sounds that open Yosemite. As usual, Lana Del Rey takes out her pen to decry the torments of celebrity and the star system, starting with White Dress which opens the album, regretting the good old days when she was a barmaid, unknown and listening to Sun Ra, Kings Of Leon and the White Stripes "when they were white hot". Further on, she offers up more references to the music history as on Breaking Up Slowly (a duet with Nikki Lane) where she addresses the marital storms between those two legends of country music, Tammy Wynette and George Jones. On song after song, this solitary amazon soldiers on, not battling for any particular cause, just doing what is right by her own lights ("Well, I don't care what they think. Drag racing my little red sports car. I'm not unhinged or unhappy, I'm just wild"). Chemtrails Over the Country Club shows above all that she excels in the art of storytelling, wielding her tweezers to fine-tune every detail of her lyrics. At 35, Lana Del Rey has arguably released her freest and most accomplished album. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

The sixth studio long player from the Windy City-based outfit, Immortalized finds Disturbed bolting down the house they finished building on 2010's Asylum, offering up a 13-track slab of vintage mid- to late-2000s heavy rock piled high with bottom-heavy riffs, piston-like percussion, and big modern rock radio-ready choruses filled with randomly generated declarations of defiance. To say that the old "if it's broke don't fix it" idiom looms large over the proceedings is a bit of an understatement, but Disturbed's particular brand of 21st century hard rock has brought in enough platinum over the years to warrant a bit of metathesiophobia, and their myriad post-hiatus projects ultimately failed to yield the same dividends. With that noted, the listener's likelihood of deriving any kind of enjoyment from the album is directly related to their amore for previous outings, and Immortalized has more than its share of vintage Disturbed goodies, like the soaring first single "The Vengeful One," the stadium-ready "Who Taught You How to Hate," and the nervy Muse-lite title track. The band's shamelessly melodramatic reading of Simon & Garfunkel's "Sound of Silence," which effectively utilizes the pared-down piano and vocal treatment that helped Gary Jules resurrect Tears for Fears' "Mad World," and the anthemic and refreshingly upbeat mid-album gem "The Light," impress with their unabashed theatricality and strong vocal turns from David Draiman. And as per usual, Don Donegan's stellar guitar work is the glue that keeps the whole affair from disappearing into the populist ether. However, a five-year break between albums should lend itself to a bit of growth, even for a band as everyman as Disturbed, but there's just not much here to keep the group's detractors from bringing out their pitchforks, and over time, staying the course may leave fewer and fewer townsfolk to protect them.© James Christopher Monger /TiVo

If In Utero is a suicide note, MTV Unplugged in New York is a message from beyond the grave, a summation of Kurt Cobain's talents and pain so fascinating, it's hard to listen to repeatedly. Is it the choice of material or the spare surroundings that make it so effective? Well, it's certainly a combination of both, how the version of the Vaselines' "Jesus Doesn't Want Me for a Sunbeam" or the three covers of Meat Puppets II songs mean as much as "All Apologies" or "Something in the Way." This, in many senses, isn't just an abnormal Nirvana record, capturing them in their sincerest desire to be R.E.M. circa Automatic for the People, it's the Nirvana record that nobody, especially Kurt, wanted revealed. It's a nakedly emotional record, unintentionally so, as the subtext means more than the main themes of how Nirvana wanted to prove its worth and diversity, showcasing the depth of their songwriting. As it turns out, it accomplishes its goals rather too well; this is a band, and songwriter, on the verge of discovering a new sound and style. Then, there's the subtexts, as Kurt's hurt and suicidal impulses bubble to the surface even as he's trying to suppress them. Few records are as unblinkingly bare and naked as this, especially albums recorded by their peers. No other band could have offered covers of David Bowie's "The Man Who Sold the World" and the folk standard "Where Did You Sleep Last Night" on the same record, turning in chilling performances of both -- performances that reveal as much as their original songs.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Her mentor Prince said her voice could melt snow. A gift confirmed on The Women Who Raised Me, Kandace Springs' third album, which is quietly earning the artist a place at the heart of the vast family of contemporary jazz'n'soul singers. As the title of her 2020 release suggests, the Nashville native living in New York pays tribute to all those who influenced and inspired her, from Ella Fitzgerald to Roberta Flack, Astrud Gilberto, Lauryn Hill, Billie Holiday, Diana Krall, Carmen McRae, Bonnie Raitt, Sade, Nina Simone, Dusty Springfield and especially Norah Jones, one of her idols, who features on a track (Angel Eyes). Produced, like Soul Eyes, (her first album of 2016) by the expert in ultra-slick sound Larry Klein, The Women Who Raised Me also brings on board the saxophonists David Sanborn (I Put a Spell on You) and Chris Potter (Gentle Rain, Loneliness), trumpeter Avishai Cohen (I Can't Make You Love Me and Pearls), bassist Christian McBride (Devil May Care) and the flautist Elena Pinderhughes (Ex-Factor and Killing Me Softly With His Song). They bring virtuoso refinement to this album's collection of well-chosen covers. Special mention must go to Sade's Pearls, spurred on by a purring Avishai Cohen, and Lauryn Hill's Ex-Factor. This album also confirms the instrumental talents of Kandace Springs, who is just as comfortable at the piano as at the Fender Rhodes. A restrained virtuoso helped by the reserved trio of Steve Cardenas on guitar, Scott Colley on bass and Clarence Penn on drums. It is this ocean of subtlety and finely-measured power that makes these covers, sung with sensuality but above all conviction, very endearing. © Clotilde Maréchal / Qobuz

Pianist Ethan Iverson is an accomplished improviser who also respects tunes. And jazz purists be damned, he's gleefully unafraid of pop music. With his former trio, The Bad Plus, Iverson alternately shocked or delighted audiences with covers of Nirvana and the Pixies. On Technically Acceptable he wades into even deeper waters by contrasting a classical music structure with jazz standards, and with more pop songs done his way. Iverson recorded with two different rhythm sections.  Bassist Thomas Morgan and drummer Kush Abadey support Iverson's ambitious three-part "Piano Sonata," (reputedly the first ever sonata in the immense Blue Note catalog).  There’s a focused determination to prove a work called "Piano Sonata" need not sound stuffy and formal. He imbues the work with flashes of James P. Johnson barrelhouse piano, the romantic sweep of Aaron Copeland, lots of half-quotes from the pop songbook and a lively, overarching sense of fun. (The way Iverson crashes lines with pounded chords in the Rondo is hilarious.) With a second trio of bassist Simón Wilson and drummer Vinnie Sperrazza, Iverson also puts his personal stamp on popular music by lingering over a cover of Roberta Flack's "Killing Me Softly With His Song." He seems ripe to score a film as demonstrated in dramatic, often kinetic changes in the short and aptly named "Conundrum."  Opening with a march beat but containing a number of rhythm changes along the way, "It's Fine to Decline" (with Morgan and Abadey) is a broad canvas for Iverson to scamper across. And a remake of Thelonious Monk's "'Round Midnight"—with Rob Schwimmer's extraordinary theremin performance mimicking a female voice—demonstrates his creativity again in spectacular fashion.   © Robert Baird/Qobuz

An explosive debut, and the hardest mod pop recorded by anyone. At the time of its release, it also had the most ferociously powerful guitars and drums yet captured on a rock record. Pete Townshend's exhilarating chord crunches and guitar distortions threaten to leap off the grooves on "My Generation" and "Out in the Street"; Keith Moon attacks the drums with a lightning, ruthless finesse throughout. Some "Maximum R&B" influence lingered in the two James Brown covers, but much of Townshend's original material fused Beatlesque hooks and power chords with anthemic mod lyrics, with "The Good's Gone," "Much Too Much," "La La La Lies," and especially "The Kids Are Alright" being highlights. "A Legal Matter" hinted at more ambitious lyrical concerns, and "The Ox" was instrumental mayhem that pushed the envelope of 1965 amplification with its guitar feedback and nonstop crashing drum rolls. While the execution was sometimes crude, and the songwriting not as sophisticated as it would shortly become, the Who never surpassed the pure energy level of this record.© Richie Unterberger /TiVo

...Famous Last Words... was the last album that Roger Hodgson made with Supertramp before seeking a solo career, and he made sure that radio would take kindly to his last hurrah with the band. Sporting an airy and overly bright pop sheen, ...Famous Last Words... put two singles on the charts, with the poignant "My Kind of Lady" peaking at number 31 and the effervescent smile of "It's Raining Again" going to number 11. The album itself went Top Ten both in the U.S. and in the U.K., eventually going gold in America. The songs are purposely tailored for Top 40 radio, delicately textured and built around overly bland and urbane choruses. Hodgson's abundance of romantically inclined poetry and love song fluff replaces the lyrical keenness that Supertramp had produced in the past, and the instrumental proficiency that they once mastered has vanished. Hodgson's English appeal and fragile vocal manner works well in some places, but the album's glossy sound and breezy feel is too excessive. Hodgson gave his solo album, 1984's In the Eye of the Storm, a mildly progressive feel, quite unlike his last appearance with his former group.© Mike DeGagne /TiVo

The most distinctive thing about Double Fantasy, the last album John Lennon released during his lifetime, is the very thing that keeps it from being a graceful return to form from the singer/songwriter, returning to active duty after five years of self-imposed exile. As legend has it, Lennon spent those years in domestic bliss, being a husband, raising a baby, and, of course, baking bread. Double Fantasy was designed as a window into that bliss and, to that extent, he decided to make it a joint album with Yoko Ono, to illustrate how complete their union was. For her part, Ono decided to take a stab at pop and while these are relatively tuneful for her, they nevertheless disrupt the feel and flow of Lennon's material, which has a consistent tone and theme. He's surprisingly sentimental, not just when he's expressing love for his wife ("Dear Yoko," "Woman") and child ("Beautiful Boy [Darling Boy]"), but when he's coming to terms with his quiet years ("Watching the Wheels," "Cleanup Time") and his return to creative life. These are really nice tunes, and what's special about them is their niceness -- it's a sweet acceptance of middle age, which, of course, makes his assassination all the sadder. For that alone, Double Fantasy is noteworthy, yet it's hard not to think that it's a bit of a missed opportunity -- primarily because its themes would be stronger without the Ono songs, but also because the production is just a little bit too slick and constrained, sounding very much of its time. Ultimately, these complaints fall by the wayside because Lennon's best songs here cement the last part of his legend, capturing him at peace and in love. According to some reports, that perception was a bit of a fantasy, but sometimes the fantasy means more than the reality, and that's certainly the case here.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

The Who with Orchestra: Live at Wembley captures the group's return to Wembley on July 6, 2019. It was their first time playing the venue in 40 years and the only show the Who played in the U.K. during their Moving On tour, so it was designed as an event. Some of that spectacle does translate on The Who with Orchestra: Live at Wembley, which came to home media in a variety of formats, including triple-vinyl, double-CD, and audio Blu-ray. The Who integrate the orchestra quite seamlessly throughout the performances, especially during an extended segment focused on Quadrophenia material; the orchestra helps Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey summon a bit of the old Who's flair for bombast. Even so, the moments on the record that cut the deepest are when the band plays without the orchestra. "Substitute" and "The Seeker" sound vigorous delivered by a straight rock combo, while Townshend and Daltrey's acoustic renditions of "Won't Get Fooled Again" and "Behind Blue Eyes" help make these old warhorses sound relatively fresh.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo