He may be in his seventies now, but there’s still no stopping Bruce Springsteen. In 2019, without the E Street Band, the Boss released Western Stars, an astonishing album which would see him transformed into the Glen Campbell of the third millennium, detaching himself from the present day by choosing an attitude of innocence and nonchalance over resistance or defiance. Letter to You came along a year later, where he gathered his favorite band—or rather, what was left of it after the passing of Danny Federici (2008) and Clarence Clemons (2011)— in his home studio in New Jersey to record 12 songs live in just 5 days. It was a reunion among old friends, rooted firmly in the '70s.With Only the Strong Survive, released in autumn 2022, Bruce Springsteen goes 100% soul. There is no doubting the quality of the goods on this 21st studio album. Comprised exclusively of covers, the album seeks to "do justice" to the Great American Songbook of the sixties and seventies. It’s a tasty tracklist, taken from the five-star catalogs of Motown, Stax, Kenneth Gamble and Leon Huff’s Philadelphia International, alongside a few other soul and R&B labels. The Boss has always had good sense in this department, mixing such gold-plated legends as Jerry Butler, Arethra Franklin, the Temptations, Diana Ross with her Supremes, and forgotten geniuses like Tyrone Davis. Not everything is totally vintage, indeed, there’s the aptly named "Soul Days"—a nostalgic song by Jonnie Barnett recorded by Dobie Gray in 2000—and "When She Was My Girl," first recorded by the Four Tops in 1981. To strengthen his case, Springsteen even invited the great Sam Moore (of the legendary duo Sam & Dave). Overall, Only the Strong Survive radiates a sincere and infectious joy. This feeling dominates throughout, underpinned by a gang of powerful backing singers (Soozie Tyrell, Lisa Lowell, Michelle Moore, Curtis King Jr., Dennis Collins and Fonzi Thornton). It's definitely a celebration. Whenever the Boss does add a personal touch—putting the spotlight on his own voice, for example—he never tries to transform these gems of the past into Born to Run-style stadium anthems. His approach is perhaps even a little educational, given that many of his younger fans will be discovering some of these songs for the first time. After all, he was a young fan himself once upon a time: a teenager glued to his AM radio, sputtering out wondrous "made in Motown"singles all night long. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

Bruno Mars’ debut album Doo-Wops & Hooligans made the talented singer/writer/producer into a star, he racked up hit singles, hosted Saturday Night Live, and became something of a romantic icon thanks to loverman anthems like “Just the Way You Are” and “Grenade.” On the way to writing and recording his second album, Unorthodox Jukebox, something seems to have gone sour for Mars. Where on his debut he sang about falling on a grenade for his girl, on this record he’s more likely to throw her on top of a grenade. Between the songs about how he can’t help but succumb to the dubious charms of young girls (“Young Girls”), the “B” who stole his money and left him broke (“Natalie”), and the type of charmer who can only be made happy by fat stacks of money (“Money Make Her Smile”), Mars’ opinion of the opposite sex seems to have taken a nosedive. Add in the song about taking cocaine and having a romantic evening so violent the cops are called (“Gorilla”) and it’s clear that the heart of the album is a cold, dark one. That the rest of the songs have some of the easy-going charm of Doo-Wops, like the lilting reggae come-on “Show Me” or the MJ-inspired disco jam "Treasure,” isn’t quite enough to overcome the queasy feeling that comes with even a cursory listen to the lyrics. It’s too bad, because at his best, like on the single “Locked Out of Heaven,” which sounds like a breezy mashup of “Beat It,” the Police, and Dire Straits, or on the Sam Cooke-inspired album-closing ballad "If I Knew," Mars’ light vocal delivery and way with a hook is quite appealing. The record sounds good, too, with able production help from heavy hitters like Mark Ronson, Diplo, Emile Haynie, and his own crew, the Smeezingtons. Too bad it’s a step back from Doo-Wops in so many ways, leaving people who saw promise in his debut shaking their heads in disappointment and hoping Mars can sort out his feelings about women and get back to being a sweet romancer, instead of an icky hater.© Tim Sendra /TiVo

Since Alicia Keys' 2001 debut album, Songs in A Minor, was ever so slightly overpraised, expectations for her second album, 2003's The Diary of Alicia Keys, were ever so slightly too high. Songs in A Minor not only kicked off a wave of ambitious new neo-soul songsters, it fit neatly into the movement of ambitious yet classicist new female singer/songwriters that ranged from the worldbeat-inflected pop of Nelly Furtado to the jazzy Norah Jones, whose success may not have been possible if Keys hadn't laid the groundwork with such soulful work as her hit "Fallin'." Such success at such a young age, even if deserved, can be too much too soon, since young songwriters showered with praise and riches may find it hard to see the world outside of their own cocoon. The very title of The Diary of Alicia Keys -- at once disarmingly simple and self-important -- suggests that Keys, like Furtado, took her stardom a little too seriously and felt compelled to present her worldview unfiltered, dispensing with artistic ambiguities and leaving each song as a portrait of Alicia Keys, the woman as a young artist. As she somewhat bafflingly says in her liner notes, "these songs are like my daily entrees," which likely means that these were indeed intended to play like unedited entries in a journal, a goal that she's fulfilled quite successfully, even if it does mean that the album often plays as a diary, leaving listeners in the role of observers instead of seeing themselves in the songs. This was a problem on Furtado's nearly simultaneously released Folklore, but Keys trumps her peer in one key way -- musically, this is a seamless piece of work, a sultry slow groove that emphasizes her breathy, seductive voice and lush soulfulness. Tonally, this is ideal late-night romantic music, even when the tempos are kicked up a notch as on the blaxploitation-fueled "Heartburn," yet beneath that sensuous surface there is some crafty, complex musicality, particularly in how Keys blurs lines between classic soul, modern rhythms, jazz, pop melodies, and singer/songwriter sensibility. It's an exceptionally well-constructed production, and as a sustained piece of sonic craft, it's not just seductive, it's a good testament to Keys' musical strengths (which can even withstand Andre Harris and Vidal Davis' irritating squeaky voice production signature on "So Simple"). What the album lacks are songs as immediate as "Fallin'" or as compelling as "A Woman's Worth," and that, combined with her insular outlook, is where Diary comes up short and reveals that it is indeed merely a second album. Such is the problem of arriving with a debut as fully formed as Songs in A Minor at such a young age -- listeners tend to expect more from the sequel, forgetting that this an artist still in her formative stages. So, those expecting another album where Keys sounds wise beyond her years will bound to be disappointed by The Diary of Alicia Keys, since her writing reveals her age in a way it never did on the debut. Yet that is a typical problem with sophomore efforts, and while this is a problem, it's one that is outweighed by her continually impressive musical achievements; they're enough to make The Diary worth repeated listens, and they're enough to suggest that Keys will continue to grow on her third album.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Since Alicia Keys' 2001 debut album, Songs in A Minor, was ever so slightly overpraised, expectations for her second album, 2003's The Diary of Alicia Keys, were ever so slightly too high. Songs in A Minor not only kicked off a wave of ambitious new neo-soul songsters, it fit neatly into the movement of ambitious yet classicist new female singer/songwriters that ranged from the worldbeat-inflected pop of Nelly Furtado to the jazzy Norah Jones, whose success may not have been possible if Keys hadn't laid the groundwork with such soulful work as her hit "Fallin'." Such success at such a young age, even if deserved, can be too much too soon, since young songwriters showered with praise and riches may find it hard to see the world outside of their own cocoon. The very title of The Diary of Alicia Keys -- at once disarmingly simple and self-important -- suggests that Keys, like Furtado, took her stardom a little too seriously and felt compelled to present her worldview unfiltered, dispensing with artistic ambiguities and leaving each song as a portrait of Alicia Keys, the woman as a young artist. As she somewhat bafflingly says in her liner notes, "these songs are like my daily entrees," which likely means that these were indeed intended to play like unedited entries in a journal, a goal that she's fulfilled quite successfully, even if it does mean that the album often plays as a diary, leaving listeners in the role of observers instead of seeing themselves in the songs. This was a problem on Furtado's nearly simultaneously released Folklore, but Keys trumps her peer in one key way -- musically, this is a seamless piece of work, a sultry slow groove that emphasizes her breathy, seductive voice and lush soulfulness. Tonally, this is ideal late-night romantic music, even when the tempos are kicked up a notch as on the blaxploitation-fueled "Heartburn," yet beneath that sensuous surface there is some crafty, complex musicality, particularly in how Keys blurs lines between classic soul, modern rhythms, jazz, pop melodies, and singer/songwriter sensibility. It's an exceptionally well-constructed production, and as a sustained piece of sonic craft, it's not just seductive, it's a good testament to Keys' musical strengths (which can even withstand Andre Harris and Vidal Davis' irritating squeaky voice production signature on "So Simple"). What the album lacks are songs as immediate as "Fallin'" or as compelling as "A Woman's Worth," and that, combined with her insular outlook, is where Diary comes up short and reveals that it is indeed merely a second album. Such is the problem of arriving with a debut as fully formed as Songs in A Minor at such a young age -- listeners tend to expect more from the sequel, forgetting that this an artist still in her formative stages. So, those expecting another album where Keys sounds wise beyond her years will bound to be disappointed by The Diary of Alicia Keys, since her writing reveals her age in a way it never did on the debut. Yet that is a typical problem with sophomore efforts, and while this is a problem, it's one that is outweighed by her continually impressive musical achievements; they're enough to make The Diary worth repeated listens, and they're enough to suggest that Keys will continue to grow on her third album.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

The seventh volume of Bob Dylan's Bootleg Series doubles as the soundtrack to No Direction Home, Martin Scorsese's feature-length documentary covering Dylan's career from its beginnings to 1966 (it was aired in two parts on PBS in September 2005 and released in expanded form on DVD that same month). Unlike the previous three installments of The Bootleg Series, which focused exclusively on live concerts, No Direction Home is assembled from a variety of sources, including home recordings, publishing demos, alternate studio takes, and live recordings, with the first disc devoted to early acoustic recordings and the second to electric music. In fact, No Direction Home proceeds chronologically, filling in gaps between the proper albums or, more often, providing a parallel history of the most productive era of Dylan's career. All of this material -- with the exception of "Song to Woody," taken from his debut, and a cataclysmic version of "Like a Rolling Stone" taken from the Royal Albert Hall show that was released as The Bootleg Series, Vol. 4 -- is previously unreleased, and much of it has not been widely bootlegged (and the cuts that have been bootlegged, such as "Dink's Song," have never been heard in such crystal-clear fidelity). Where the inaugural edition of The Bootleg Series had many previously unreleased Dylan originals, there is only one here, the tentative opener, "When I Got Troubles," a sweet, simple 1959 song that finds Dylan in his formative stage. In place of unheard songs are a slew of alternate versions of familiar tunes. On the first disc, these are largely live versions of such warhorses as "Blowin' in the Wind," "Masters of War," and "A Hard Rain's a-Gonna Fall," recorded when the songs were still fresh. These live performances have an immediacy and intimacy that not only illustrate what a powerful folksinger Dylan was, but also suggest how the songs might have sounded when they were new tunes. Toward the end of the first disc, alternate versions that are significantly different from the final versions begin to surface with an early take on "Mr. Tambourine Man" recorded at the Another Side of Bob Dylan sessions with Ramblin' Jack Elliott on second guitar and backing vocals. The second disc has several alternates that are similarly notably different, highlighted by a lively, careening "It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry" with a different final verse, a "Desolation Row" with electric guitar, "Highway 61 Revisited" without the siren whistle, a slower, heavier, blusier take on "Leopard-Skin Pill Box Hat," a relaxed version of "Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again" that lacks the carnivalesque swirl of sound from the Blonde on Blonde version, and a lean, insistent "Visions of Johanna." As different as some of these versions are, there are no great revelations here, apart from the realization that the best takes really did make the finished records. But looking for revelations on this seventh edition of The Bootleg Series may be setting the bar too high, particularly because even if few things here are earth-shaking (a rampaging "Maggie's Farm" from Dylan's legendary electric set at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965 could qualify, thanks in great deal to an incendiary Mike Bloomfield), everything here is uniformly excellent and worth hearing well more than once. That alone, of course, would make this yet another worthwhile addition to any serious Dylan collection, but what makes No Direction Home noteworthy as an album is that it is the first Dylan record to offer an aural biography of Dylan. This does a superb job of tracing the development of Dylan as a musician, taking him from a young folkie singing standards, through the rush of his early standards, and to the visionary music he made once he went electric. Put in this context, the electric music on disc two sounds as bracing and brilliant and surprising as it did in the '60s, while the acoustic folk on disc one sounds vibrant, pure, and alive. After all these years, that's a hard accomplishment to pull off, and to the credit of everybody involved in this terrific release, they've been able to make even the most familiar Dylan tunes feel new again.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

If you've never heard Blind Willie Johnson, you are in for one of the great, bone-chilling treats in music. Johnson played slide guitar and sang in a rasping, false bass that could freeze the blood. But no bluesman was he; this was gospel music of the highest order, full of emotion and heartfelt commitment. Of all the guitar-playing evangelists, Blind Willie Johnson may have been the very best. Though not related by bloodlines to Robert Johnson, comparisons in the emotional commitment of both men cannot be helped. This two-CD anthology collects everything known to exist, and that's a lot of stark, harrowing, emotional commitment no matter how you slice it. Not for the faint of heart, but hey, the good stuff never is.© Cub Koda /TiVo

Bruno Mars’ debut album Doo-Wops & Hooligans made the talented singer/writer/producer into a star, he racked up hit singles, hosted Saturday Night Live, and became something of a romantic icon thanks to loverman anthems like “Just the Way You Are” and “Grenade.” On the way to writing and recording his second album, Unorthodox Jukebox, something seems to have gone sour for Mars. Where on his debut he sang about falling on a grenade for his girl, on this record he’s more likely to throw her on top of a grenade. Between the songs about how he can’t help but succumb to the dubious charms of young girls (“Young Girls”), the “B” who stole his money and left him broke (“Natalie”), and the type of charmer who can only be made happy by fat stacks of money (“Money Make Her Smile”), Mars’ opinion of the opposite sex seems to have taken a nosedive. Add in the song about taking cocaine and having a romantic evening so violent the cops are called (“Gorilla”) and it’s clear that the heart of the album is a cold, dark one. That the rest of the songs have some of the easy-going charm of Doo-Wops, like the lilting reggae come-on “Show Me” or the MJ-inspired disco jam "Treasure,” isn’t quite enough to overcome the queasy feeling that comes with even a cursory listen to the lyrics. It’s too bad, because at his best, like on the single “Locked Out of Heaven,” which sounds like a breezy mashup of “Beat It,” the Police, and Dire Straits, or on the Sam Cooke-inspired album-closing ballad "If I Knew," Mars’ light vocal delivery and way with a hook is quite appealing. The record sounds good, too, with able production help from heavy hitters like Mark Ronson, Diplo, Emile Haynie, and his own crew, the Smeezingtons. Too bad it’s a step back from Doo-Wops in so many ways, leaving people who saw promise in his debut shaking their heads in disappointment and hoping Mars can sort out his feelings about women and get back to being a sweet romancer, instead of an icky hater.© Tim Sendra /TiVo

This long-awaited debut solo album from the British soul-pop singer/songwriter comes after a long string of singles that have earned him an adoring fan base. Most of those singles are included here, including "What If," "When Was the Last Time?", and "Be Your Man," which set his sweet, supple, slightly raspy tenor to a smooth, often sparse backing which reinvents classic soul tropes in a modern electronic-influenced style.© John D. Buchanan /TiVo

On their first studio album in eight years, the Temptations revert to covers, as they did with multiple full-lengths earlier in the 2000s. This time, the group, still led by lone original member Otis Williams, selects mostly contemporary material. They do so with mixed results, excelling with imaginative takes on Maxwell's "Pretty Wings," Sam Smith's "Stay with Me," and John Mayer's "When I Was Your Man," pouncing on the opportunity to accentuate the latter's allusion to the work of Motown peer Marvin Gaye. A busy version of Michael Jackson's "Remember the Time" involves ill-fitting elements like "Papa Was a Rolling Stone"-evoking handclaps and gleaming synthesizers, while the Weeknd's "Earned It" is a creative risk not worth taking. "Waitin' on You" is the best of the few originals, easily mistakable for a (cleaned-up) take on a Jaheim hit. With each cover choice popularized by a solo artist, the set is a subtle reminder that vocal groups are nearly extinct. © Andy Kellman /TiVo

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