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

Axelrod's reputation underwent an extraordinary reassessment in the late '90s, with his instrumental albums and work as an arranger coming to be considered innovative and au courant by some tastemakers. Even taking into account that this is just one of many records bearing the Axelrod imprint, one has to wonder if the rehabilitation is in fact unwarranted inflation. This is run-of-the-mill, largely instrumental soul-jazz-funk, split between Axelrod originals and covers of tunes by Stevie Wonder, Carly Simon, Vince Guaraldi, and Cannonball Adderley. It would be eminently suitable for background soundtrack music for 1970s films and made for TV movies, and while some such efforts can be good, in this context, that is not meant as praise. Do you really want to hear a watery fusion cover of "You're So Vain," with Stephanie Spruill's straining soul vocals? You're welcome to it. Although about a couple dozen musicians (including Adderley and Gene Ammons) take part in the string- and horn-drenched arrangements, really these aren't that creative. They sound more like quickly assembled, made-to-order filler music for video productions, the horns sometimes sounding rather like those of school marching bands, with touches of early-'70s-style electric keyboards and wah-wahing funk-rock guitars. There's an orgiastic wordless female vocal on "Mucho Chupar," if that's what you like. The entire album is contained on the Fantasy CD reissue The Axelrod Chronicles, which adds eight tracks from 1973-1974 that Axelrod produced and/or arranged on albums by Gene Ammons, Nat Adderley, Hampton Hawes, and Funk, Inc.© Richie Unterberger /TiVo

The biggest criticism of The Bootleg Series, Vol. 5: Bob Dylan Live 1975 -- the third installment in Columbia/Legacy's excavation of the exhaustive Bob Dylan vaults (the first was a box set, containing three volumes) -- is that it's a compilation of highlights from his Rolling Thunder Revue of 1975, one that doesn't set out to replicate a set list but instead offers two discs and 22 tracks from this fabled tour. Apart from that, there's very little to complain about on this superlative set, which offers the first official release of Rolling Thunder material. Yes, this had been heavily bootlegged over the decades, plus it was documented on Dylan's notoriously unwatchable film Renaldo & Clara and there was Hard Rain, a collection culled from the post-Thunder 1976 tour that was similar but sour and nowhere near as good the 1975 material, as this superb set illustrates. Hearing this is a revelation, even for serious Dylan watchers -- those so serious to own several bootlegs, even a full shelf of Dylan, but not as obsessive as those who track Bob's every move -- and those who aren't as dedicated, yet still harbor a serious interest, will find this equally absorbing, since this is simply tremendous. It has become legend that Dylan will change arrangements and switch lyrics at the drop of a hat, which was evident on his jaunt with the Band in 1974, preserved for posterity on Before the Flood. Even so, he's looser, wilder, and more alive in this careening, thrilling album, a record where "A Hard Rain's a-Gonna Fall" gallops along as if it were "Leopard Skin Pill-Box Hat." As that suggests, the wildest thing about this is the electric cuts, where an unwieldy band turns out an overpowering sound that sounds inevitable, as if it's the only way these songs could be played, even when you've heard these songs countless times before in other arrangements. The acoustic moments don't pack the same charge, nor do they contain many of his duets with Joan Baez, yet they're intimate, passionate versions of the songs. In fact, there's not a bad moment here, and if it doesn't replicate the Rolling Thunder tour list to the letter, it does indeed capture the essence of this legendary stint, which is why it's necessary for every serious fan.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Chock-full of new wave charisma and tamed by Bob Geldof's upfront wit, The Fine Art of Surfacing is novel in both its lyrical flair and modern pounce. Made famous by the colorful history of "I Don't Like Mondays," a true story about a 16-year-old girl who shot 11 people without showing any remorse, The Fine Art of Surfacing switches gears from this song's well-crafted harshness to the hectic pace of tracks such as "Nice N' Neat" and "Sleep," among others. "Diamond Smiles" jaunts along on a hiccup-like rhythm, while "Keep It Up" is downright frantic. "Someone's Looking at You" basks in a certain type of smug paranoia, and songs like "Having My Picture Taken" and "Nothing Happened Today" are beautifully lit up by Geldof's wide-eyed dramatics and explicit vocal swings. Sharing the same sort of stylishness as A Tonic for the Troops, The Fine Art of Surfacing bursts with florid pop genius, which in turn kept the Boomtown Rats from sounding like other new wave bands that existed at the time. © Mike DeGagne /TiVo

Kirsty Hawkshaw was more than an ethereal beauty behind the pop house outfit Opus III. She may have claimed to be from another galaxy, but that quirkiness benefited the sonic grooves composed by the U.K. four-piece. Their debut, Mind Fruit, (1992) was more than just another techno record in the face of the genre's underground taking shape during the early '90s. Hawkshaw's dove-like vocals transcended into freewheeling soundscapes; the remake of Barton & Jane's "It's a Fine Day" is melodically enchanting with loopy trance vibes and textured synth waves, but the crafty version of King Crimson's "I Talk to the Wind" composes a dreamy synthetic wave. Opus III was barely a step ahead of electronica's late '90s surge, yet it was just strong enough to join the ranks or move beyond the scene. This album, however, does define a healthy dose of what was yet to come. Hawkshaw would later contribute vocals on cuts for BT, Deep Dish, and Orbital.© MacKenzie Wilson /TiVo

The biggest criticism of The Bootleg Series, Vol. 5: Bob Dylan Live 1975 -- the third installment in Columbia/Legacy's excavation of the exhaustive Bob Dylan vaults (the first was a box set, containing three volumes) -- is that it's a compilation of highlights from his Rolling Thunder Revue of 1975, one that doesn't set out to replicate a set list but instead offers two discs and 22 tracks from this fabled tour. Apart from that, there's very little to complain about on this superlative set, which offers the first official release of Rolling Thunder material. Yes, this had been heavily bootlegged over the decades, plus it was documented on Dylan's notoriously unwatchable film Renaldo & Clara and there was Hard Rain, a collection culled from the post-Thunder 1976 tour that was similar but sour and nowhere near as good the 1975 material, as this superb set illustrates. Hearing this is a revelation, even for serious Dylan watchers -- those so serious to own several bootlegs, even a full shelf of Dylan, but not as obsessive as those who track Bob's every move -- and those who aren't as dedicated, yet still harbor a serious interest, will find this equally absorbing, since this is simply tremendous. It has become legend that Dylan will change arrangements and switch lyrics at the drop of a hat, which was evident on his jaunt with the Band in 1974, preserved for posterity on Before the Flood. Even so, he's looser, wilder, and more alive in this careening, thrilling album, a record where "A Hard Rain's a-Gonna Fall" gallops along as if it were "Leopard Skin Pill-Box Hat." As that suggests, the wildest thing about this is the electric cuts, where an unwieldy band turns out an overpowering sound that sounds inevitable, as if it's the only way these songs could be played, even when you've heard these songs countless times before in other arrangements. The acoustic moments don't pack the same charge, nor do they contain many of his duets with Joan Baez, yet they're intimate, passionate versions of the songs. In fact, there's not a bad moment here, and if it doesn't replicate the Rolling Thunder tour list to the letter, it does indeed capture the essence of this legendary stint, which is why it's necessary for every serious fan.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Filter survived the various slings and arrows slung at them during the new millennium, proving that they still had an audience by getting both 2008's Anthems for the Damned and 2010's The Trouble with Angels into the Top 100 of the Billboard 200. It was enough to get a major label interested, and 2013's The Sun Comes Out Tonight popped up on EMI, which explains some of the slickness of the album. Surely, there is still a bit of ballast -- the album opens up with a roar on "Burn It" and it occasionally circles back around to this processed, distorted rush (witness the self-lacerating "Self Inflicted," the closest this album gets to "Hey Man, Nice Shot," or the almost parodic "This Finger's for You") but generally, The Sun Comes Out Tonight skews toward the shimmering, melodic end of adult-alternative rock, a sound that fits Filter's age if not their reputation. That said, the smoothness that permeates The Sun Comes Out Tonight is not entirely out of character for the group: there is a modernity to their production and intent, especially in how the group never pushes, even letting their surges seem soothing ("This Finger's for You" bears a confrontational title, but it feels friendly, even with its jacked-up volume). Where Filter fall short is in how they retain the patina of Hot Topic, how they still seem to chaff against the inevitability of their maturity, but underneath that blustering, the group manage to ease back and act their age, and that detached cool exterior is why The Sun Comes Out Tonight is the most satisfying latter-day album this group has yet made.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Vocalist Cassandra Wilson has used her 15 years at Blue Note to explore the interpretive range of her voice, whether singing tunes by Van Morrison, Robert Johnson, Lewis Allan, Miles Davis, or Hoagy Carmichael. In many ways, Wilson has offered a new view of the standard by using classic rock and Delta blues tunes in her live and recorded repertoires. That said, Loverly is her first offering comprised almost completely of American songbook standards since Blue Skies 20 years ago. Wilson produced the recording in Jackson, MS, and surrounded herself with old friends: guitarist Marvin Sewell, bassists Reggie Veal and Lonnie Plaxico, drummer Herlin Riley, and labelmate and pianist Jason Moran. The material is beautifully chosen; it ranges from Oscar Hammerstein's "Lover Come Back to Me" and Luiz Bonfá's "A Day In The Life Of A Fool" (the English version of "Black Orpheus") to Juan Tizol's "Caravan," Irving Mills' "St. James Infirmary," and Ray Noble's "The Very Thought of You." Given Wilson's working methods, these standards are performed in iconic ways -- without losing the central integrity of their sources. A prime example would be "Caravan," where the basic rhythmic pulse has been doubled with a snare, hi-hat, and taut, edgy piano. Wilson offers the melody as written, but with her own stretched-line phrasing applied to the lyric. "Lover Come Back to Me" carries within it the gentle bounce of the original, and Wilson evokes both Nina Simone and Betty Carter in her rhythmic approach to the lyric and melody. The warm double-time guitar strut of Sewell paces the track; Moran's solo walks a line between show tune formalism and vanguard improv that is fresh and exciting. The reading of "Black Orpheus" here is unusual: Wilson is very conservative in her approach to the melody, so much so that the beautiful Portuguese "saudade" element is texturally amplified and bossa is stretched to the breaking point. The band's meld of subtle Afro-Latin rhythms evokes Cuban son, and conserves the root elements in the original. The duet between Sewell's truly unique acoustic guitar style and Wilson's vocal on "Spring Can Really Hang You Up the Most" is utterly tender. A pair of left-field cuts are here as well. First is a group improvisation called "Arere." Propelled by a hypnotic, nearly funky upright bassline, Sewell plays short choppy chords with Afro-Cuban percussion in the backdrop; Moran plays around and through the polyrhythms as Wilson sings and speaks -- she improvises with the band in a number of different languages. Strangely, it doesn't feel out of place here. The other ringer is a read on Elmore James' trademark blues "Dust My Broom." It is not offered as the raucous barroom wailer it classically is. Instead, it's snaky, sultry, and steamy. Sewell's edgy, razored slide guitar, hand percussion, and Wilson's finger snaps accompany her voice on the first verses, establishing a groove before the rest of the band enters. Her phrasing is pure sassy soul that gradually takes this blues firmly into the jazz camp. Wilson has done what many other singers -- many of them on Blue Note -- couldn't even envision: she has taken a substantial part of the American songbook, employed a crack, risk-taking jazz group, and added new depth, texture, and meaning to these songs, without sacrificing their elegance or appeal. Loverly is the only reason to avoid imposing a moratorium on the very tired standards genre that has become the bane of jazz in recent years. It cannot be recommended highly enough.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

Apparently disappointed with critical hatred of their previous work, Poison made a bid to be taken seriously after the massive success of Open Up and Say...Ahh! Even the title of Flesh & Blood indicates a desire for more substance and reality in their music, as do darker songs like "Valley of Lost Souls," "(Flesh & Blood) Sacrifice," "Life Loves a Tragedy," and a more reflective power ballad, "Life Goes On." There's still the adolescent sleaze of the Top Five hit "Unskinny Bop," but for the most part, Poison shies away from party anthems in favor of Bret Michaels' toughness-in-the-face-of-tribulation philosophizing. Sometimes it works surprisingly well, aided by the band's most consistent songwriting and a wider musical range that occasionally veers into swampy blues-rock. At other times, though, Michaels comes off as well intentioned but too self-consciously proud of his own ambition to recognize when he oversteps his bounds, as on parts of the hit ballad "Something to Believe In." Compared to their earlier output, Flesh & Blood is by no means a bad album (especially with the presence of one of their best songs, "Ride the Wind," an ode to motorcycles and their surrounding lifestyle). It's just not what Poison does best.© Steve Huey /TiVo

Funny, we can't remember this many singers turning up on the Crusaders' albums, but look a little closer at the liner. For this 1987 compilation -- designed, perhaps, to fill the gap between albums by a group that no longer was a full-time act -- MCA reached for records by B.B. King, Tina Turner, Joe Sample and Wilton Felder that various Crusaders played on, as well as the band's output from Street Life through The Good and Bad Times. B.B. takes the prize for his fabulous, humorously funky, live-in-London turn on "Better Not Look Down" -- he plays guitar so sparingly, and every note is right in the pocket -- but Joe Cocker comes close, riding on a classic bumpy Crusaders groove on "This Old World's Too Funky for Me." Of course, Randy Crawford's career-making "Street Life" leads off the set, and Tina Turner (in a lugubrious dissection of the Beatles' "Help"), Bobby Womack, Alltrinna Grayson, Bill Withers, Flora Purim and Josie James also contribute with various degrees of effectiveness. Despite a few weak moments, the album works amazingly well, partly as an alternative highlights collection and partly as a sober reminder to the remaining Crusaders and their fans as to how essential drummer Stix Hooper was to their sound.© Richard S. Ginell /TiVo

Wes Montgomery acceded to the whims of producer Creed Taylor for this, one of the very first CTI productions that would, over the next decade, popularize jazz with string backdrops or rhythm & blues beats. Much to either the delight or chagrin of urban or traditional jazz fans, the music changed, and Montgomery was in the middle, though his delightful playing was essentially unchanged. On the plus side, the legendary guitarist was allowed to collaborate with great musicians like bassist Ron Carter, pianist Herbie Hancock, flutist Hubert Laws, and percussionist Ray Barretto. While the small orchestral trappings never dominate this session, the seeds for a more grandiose style of music had been planted with the release of this date in 1968. The arrangements of Don Sebesky are for the most part pretty, unobtrusive, and pleasant but lack groove and soul in the main. "Wind Song" is exactly as its title suggests, a light funk loaded up with chords and woodwinds. The melody of "Georgia on My Mind" is barely stated although the strings are subtle; "I Say a Little Prayer" is a sappy tune made into Muzak; oboe and cello bring "When I Look Into Your Eyes" into an ultimately maudlin arena; and Lalo Schifrin's theme from "The Fox" has the same instrumental complement, more film noir, and parallel to Rahsaan Roland Kirk's "Theme to the Eulipions" if you compare them side by side. The best material is the light funk of Montgomery's original "Up & at It" in a small ensemble, nice enough, and the roots of so-called "smooth" jazz. The bright samba "Know It All" best showcases the guitarist and Hancock's luminous piano, reflecting the classic "No More Blues," while "Goin' on to Detroit" is a typical Montgomery-styled, cool road song featuring Laws. In may real and important ways, this is the beginning of the end for Montgomery as a jazz artist, and the inception of bachelor pad lounge/mood music that only lasted for a brief time. This recording, with no extra material, alternate takes, or bonus tracks, cannot compare to Charlie Parker with strings. It does fall in that category of recordings where the musicians chose to produce, rather than create their personal brand of jazz, and is at the very least an historical footnote.© Michael G. Nastos /TiVo