Since the late '70s, Jan Garbarek has been carving out a place within jazz for the folk and spiritual traditions of the indigenous peoples of Scandinavia, the Netherlands, and finally of those people all over the world. Rites, a double CD, is his attempt at forging a synthesis that takes improvisation into the heart of ritual music and creates a new form of spiritual from them both. Using a strategy for each of the discs, the first one digs deep into the spiritual and mystical side of his language. Garbarek plays soprano and tenor as well as synthesizers, drum machines, and samples -- always understated, always elegant -- and utilizes the talents of some of his running mates as well as new ones. Rainer Bruninghaus appears sporadically throughout, as does bassist Eberhard Weber, and drummer/percussion wizard Marilyn Mazur is ubiquitous. The music is slow, tenuous, and repetitive. It hardly matters -- on disc one, anyway -- which of the pieces are being played. All of them have spare, chant-like melodies that are lifted by myriad percussion instruments and keyboards, which provide a spacious ambience in which to enfold them both. Even Garbarek's trademark icy saxophone -- usually made more so by Manfred Eicher's production -- is warm, watery, and deeply entrenched in this warm mix that falls over listeners like a fine meditation blanket; like that blanket, it begins to stir emotions from deep within the heart of the listener. While these songs all segue into one another, it is worth noting that Garbarek recut "It's OK to Listen to the Grey Voice" for this collection, where it's performed with deeper conviction and fits better than it did on the album it was named for. Disc two of Rites is a bit of a different story. While the music is indeed intended for ritual, it comes from the celebratory side of the aisle rather than the contemplative one. Here are dances, Garbarek's versions of gospel shouts, processionals, festival waltzes, and all manner of joyful ceremonies completing the circle. On one collection, listeners get music for prayer, contemplation, and grief, as well as a funky European read of indigenous music for moving to and celebrating. Clearly this is what sets Rites above Garbarek's other recordings, him taking that balance he possessed so early in his career back again and putting it to work in a near-sacred setting. © Thom Jurek /TiVo

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

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Looking back on 30 years as one of America's most prominent electronic musicians, Moby made a surprise move to reimagine classics from his lengthy catalog as orchestral and acoustic reworkings. Inspired by a 2018 performance with the Los Angeles Philharmonic and Gustavo Dudamel, he delivered Reprise, a triumphant career retrospective that breathes new life into familiar hits and deep cuts. Reaching all the way back to his 1992 debut, Moby amplifies his percussion-heavy breakthrough single "Go" into a dramatic tribal raver, while Everything Is Wrong's cosmic "God Moving Over the Face of the Water" expands even further with the grandiose backing of Icelandic pianist Vikingur Ólafsson. The best of the instrumentals on Reprise, however, is the de facto overture "Everloving," whose cinematic sweep is absolutely breathtaking. In fact, this and the other tracks selected from his 1999 magnum opus Play are the most effective transformations here, allowing that album's soul- and gospel-heavy sampling to organically draw out the emotion and humanity on this project. The mournful "Natural Blues" is a showstopper, elevating the original's melancholy to stirring effect as Gregory Porter and Amythyst Kiah lament, "Oh Lordy, my trouble's so hard." The plaintive reflections on "Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad" benefit from the soulful vocals of Apollo Jane, Deitrick Haddon, and gospel choir the Samples, descending into pain before hope shines a light with the inspirational chorus. And while the ethereal "Porcelain" merges a wounded duet between Moby and My Morning Jacket's Jim James, the true heft is found in the expansive orchestral arrangement, which pulls aside the veil to reveal a grandeur at which the original only hinted. These varying degrees of pain and catharsis are at the heart of Reprise, manifesting in a vulnerable reworking of David Bowie's "Heroes," a version that Moby notes he played with his late friend in 2001, and 18's dirge-like "Extreme Ways." Emotional rock bottom is reached on the Innocents cut "The Lonely Night," wherein a worn-out Mark Lanegan and Kris Kristofferson face mortality in a way that echoes Johnny Cash's twilight take on Nine Inch Nails' "Hurt." Through the tears and heartache, Moby offers a few uplifting reworkings, namely the epic "We Are All Made of Stars" -- which he styled as a classic rock opera in scope and progression -- and "Lift Me Up," which transforms the transcendent original with a cacophonous chorus of voices, horn blasts, and galloping percussion. By toning down the euphoric dancefloor bliss of these often-repetitive techno anthems, the songs breathe and move in ways like never before. Reprise is a bold late-career gem that legitimizes Moby's brand of electronic music by extracting the existing emotions that always dwelled beneath the digital soundscapes, revealing a heart that was always there but is now on full glorious display.© Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo

Who's Next is not an album lacking for reissues. In addition to a deluxe edition from 2003, there have also been multiple audiophile editions and remasters of the album since its 1971 release. So what could a "super deluxe edition" possibly contain? Quite a bit, as it turns out. As even casual Who fans know, the genesis of Who's Next was as Lifehouse, a multimedia rock opera even more ambitious than Tommy. Pete Townshend had developed a bizarre, dystopian story that somehow merged his devotion to Indian guru Meher Baba, his recent fascination with synthesizers, and the idea that the only thing that could save humanity from a test-tube-bound future was "real rock 'n' roll." Yeah, the aftereffects of the '60s were wild. After some live shows at the Young Vic in London and a series of marathon recording sessions, a 16-song tracklist was finalized, but by this point, it was collectively decided—both creatively and commercially—that perhaps another concept-dense double album might not be the best studio follow-up to Tommy. So, eight Lifehouse songs were re-cut and one new song ("My Wife") was recorded and the leaner, meaner Who's Next was released in August 1971. The album was both an instant success and has become an undisputed part of the classic rock canon, thanks to the inclusion of absolutely iconic tracks like "Won't Get Fooled Again," "Baba O'Riley," and "Behind Blue Eyes."While one could make an argument that the taut and focused power of Who's Next inadvertently proved the point of the Lifehouse story (namely, that rock 'n' roll is most effective when it's at its most primal), it's important to remember that Who's Next was also a giant artistic leap forward for the Who, as it found them at the peak of their powers as a pummeling rock band and as a band willing to be experimental and artful in their approach to being a pummeling rock band. (If any evidence is needed of the group's unrivaled power, check out take 13 of "Won't Get Fooled Again" on this set, which is so immediate and electric that it could easily be mistaken for a concert performance.) While several Lifehouse tracks found their way to other Who and Townshend records, getting a sense of the contours of the project has been difficult. But this massive, 155-track set creates those lines thanks to the inclusion of multiple Townshend demos as well as recording sessions of Life House tracks that occurred both before and after the release of Who's Next, and, most notably, two freshly mixed live shows from 1971 (including one of the Young Vic shows) that provided both the energy and, in some cases the basic tracks, for the album versions. While nothing on this bursting-at-the-seams edition overrides the all-killer-no-filler approach of Who's Next, it does provide plenty of long-desired context and documentation for what made that record so powerful. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

Roughly a year after Avril Lavigne released her eponymous fifth album in 2013, she was diagnosed with Lyme disease. Her illness informs Head Above Water, which arrives six long years after Avril Lavigne -- the longest time separating Lavigne albums by far. Considering that half-decade gap and all the personal turmoil the singer endured, it scans that Head Above Water unveils a different Avril Lavigne, one who proudly bears her scars and is eager to share her journey. Head Above Water has its moments of darkness, but they're not sad, they're stirring. The album is designed to offer solace while also being a rallying call. Inspirational music, in other words, so it's not entirely surprising that its title track was serviced to Christian radio in advance of its release -- a gambit that proved successful, since "Head Above Water" went to number five on the Christian radio chart. Despite this, Head Above Water can't be called Christian music by any measure -- no album with "Dumb Blonde," a cherry bomb stomp of defiance featuring a Nicki Minaj verse could -- but its quieter, contemplative moments, of which there are many, do veer toward the aspirational pop of Rachel Platten, a sign Lavigne is no longer the mall punk of lore. Although the album is weighed heavily by ballads suited for adult contemporary radio, Lavigne fortunately peppers it with moments of levity: "Tell Me It's Over" sways with echoes of a '50s slow dance, "Crush" is so light it floats into the stratosphere, and "Bigger Wow" swells with strings reminiscent of vintage Vanessa Carlton. Such moments provide a needed contrast to the motivational ones while also connecting to Lavigne's bubblegum roots, a move that makes the overall maturation of the album feel earned.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Elvis Presley’s legendary 1970 marathon sessions in Nashville are among the King’s last shining moments. The sessions would notably lead to albums like Elvis: That’s the Way It is, Elvis Country (I’m 10,000 Years Old) and Love Letters from Elvis but would also mark the advent of a pop-sounding country rock which influenced numerous wannabe-cowboys (a style which would nevertheless fizzle out before the end of the 70s). For the session’s 50th anniversary, the songs are all reunited in a never-before-heard unaltered version that omits layers of overdubbing and supplementary orchestrations. Matt Ross-Spring (who has worked with John Prine, Jason Isbell and Margo Price) provides a radiant mixing here. Some rarities and previously unreleased material like the covers of Willie Nelson’s Funny How Time Slips Away and Simon & Garfunkel’s Bridge over Troubled Water are including as an additional bonus. Here is an Elvis on the rise once again after his marvellous 1968 Comeback Special and the masterpiece From Elvis in Memphis released the year later… In the famous studio B of Nashville’s RCA studios (which was all-familiar to Presley) for five days in June  (an additional session took place on the 22nd of September), the King is surrounded by multi-instrumentalist Charlie McCoy, bassist Norbert Putnam, pianist David Briggs, and his legendary stage guitarist James Burton (and his demonic solo on I Washed My Hands In Muddy Water !) and former Muscle Shoals member Eddie Hinton. In short, the band are loyal virtuosos and five-star session men who bring a great sense of confidence to the record as they magnify the King’s great voice. These marathon sessions mix country songs with rock and a dash of soul. All compositions are chosen by Elvis himself. Live in the studio, his singing is godlike, and Ross-Spring’s flawless mixing brings a sense of modernity to the general sound of these seances. There’s no need to be an expert on the King to appreciate the value of these 4 and a half hours of lively and pure music. An essential. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

Since From Nashville to Memphis: The Essential 60's Masters gave up the ghost of being a complete overview of Elvis Presley's '60s recordings, the compilers of the companion five-disc box set Walk a Mile in My Shoes: The Essential 70's Masters -- the third and final installment in RCA's justifiably acclaimed Elvis box set reissue series -- decided to throw even the illusion of comprehensiveness out the window and just serve up five discs and 120 tracks of highlights. Instead of adhering to a strict chronological sequencing, which the two previous boxes did, this is divided into two discs of singles, two discs of studio highlights, then one disc that attempts to present the ultimate Elvis Presley live show by culling peaks from several gigs throughout of the decade. This is a sharp move, since there is simply too much recorded material from the '70s to be presented either completely or chronologically, and his high points are easier to digest broken down in this fashion. Truth be told, he didn't have too many outright classics during this time -- just "Burning Love," "Always on My Mind," "Raised on Rock," "Promised Land," and "Moody Blue," along with 1971's excellent album Elvis Country (I'm 10,000 Years Old) -- but it was a far more consistent era than the '60s, and it was more adventurous in terms of material and production, never sounding like pandering, which the early '60s could on occasion. This is more evident on the studio highlights than on the singles discs, particularly because those two discs delve into records like Elvis Country, but the end result is a set that is far more consistent and entertaining than From Nashville to Memphis, even if it doesn't sustain the delirious heights of his late-'60s comeback. If the fifth, final live disc is the kind of thing that you listen to only once or twice, it still crackles with energy, and the two studio highlights discs prove that Presley was still a sensitive, inventive interpreter of strong material, and the productions have a rich, robust diversity that keeps this interesting and enjoyable. To say that the '70s recordings are more consistent than the '60s is true, but it does give the impression that Elvis was as consistently brilliant as he was a decade earlier. That's simply not the case -- the best of the '60s recordings overshadows the best cuts here without effort -- but this does have a diversity of material and sound (even if it sometimes borders on the splashy excess of Vegas) that not only keeps it interesting, it proves that, when pressed, Elvis was still restless and inventive. Maybe the music here isn't as outright classic as those on the previous box sets, but it captures its era just as well, and provides the final piece of musical narrative while serving up some terrific music. And if the final chapter of the most iconic figure in American popular music is not essential to a library, then you don't truly care for American popular music.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo