Walter Becker and Donald Fagen were remarkable craftsmen from the start, as Steely Dan's debut, Can't Buy a Thrill, illustrates. Each song is tightly constructed, with interlocking chords and gracefully interwoven melodies, buoyed by clever, cryptic lyrics. All of these are hallmarks of Steely Dan's signature sound, but what is most remarkable about the record is the way it differs from their later albums. Of course, one of the most notable differences is the presence of vocalist David Palmer, a professional blue-eyed soul vocalist who oversings the handful of tracks where he takes the lead. Palmer's very presence signals the one major flaw with the album -- in an attempt to appeal to a wide audience, Becker and Fagen tempered their wildest impulses with mainstream pop techniques. Consequently, there are very few of the jazz flourishes that came to distinguish their albums -- the breakthrough single, "Do It Again," does work an impressively tight Latin jazz beat, and "Reelin' in the Years" has jazzy guitar solos and harmonies -- and the production is overly polished, conforming to all the conventions of early-'70s radio. Of course, that gives these decidedly twisted songs a subversive edge, but compositionally, these aren't as innovative as their later work. Even so, the best moments ("Dirty Work," "Kings," "Midnight Cruiser," "Turn That Heartbeat Over Again") are wonderful pop songs that subvert traditional conventions and more than foreshadow the paths Steely Dan would later take.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

When is a Radiohead record not a Radiohead record? That's a fair question when listening to the debut from The Smile—which includes most prominent Radiohead members Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood and is produced by Nigel Godrich, who has worked on every Radiohead album since OK Computer. They're even recycling bits and bobs of old songs that never made the permanent Radiohead roster, like "Skrting on the Surface" which has roots going back to that band's In Rainbows era as well as Yorke's Atoms for Peace side project. Here, it's served as an ambient moment—as much a mood as a song. Greenwood's jazz guitar arpeggios dress things up while soft brass fades in and out and Yorke vocalizes like flotsam drifting through the ether. In other words, the song plays it cool: a good simmer that doesn't need to overdo it as a full-on boil. "Open the Floodgates" started as a Radiohead track back in 2006, when it was known as "Porous," and also got revived for live gigs with Atoms for Peace. It sure sounds like a frustrated commentary on concert fans: "Don't bore us/ Get to the chorus/ And open the floodgates/ We want the good bits/ Without your bullshit." (Pretty perfect for a band named after the Ted Hughes poem "The Smile," with its ominous warning about hungry fakers consuming purity.) Joining the band is jazz drummer Tom Skinner, also of Sons of Kemet, who lays down a busy, jittery rhythm that matches the oddly charming funk-to-post-punk-siren path of "The Opposite." The drums pace like a caged tiger on the big, festival-ready "You Will Never Work in Television Again," and it's a wow moment to hear Yorke singing like he's in the Wipers or Mission of Burma. He hits his famed upper register on "Pana-vision," a moody, fog-at-the-seaside piano track with strings conducted by Hugh Brunt, who has worked with both Radiohead and Greenwood on his film scores. "Thin Thing" thrives on math-rock tension. "Speech Bubbles" is a graceful, if morose crawl. "The Same" delivers great washes of uneasy noise. "Waving a White Flag" brainwashes with sterile, spacey synth followed by drawling strings, like a spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down. And "Free in the Knowledge," with its catchy vocal melody, could be Radiohead circa The Bends. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

"The chemistry between that group was intense -- even their longest, most meandering jams are worth savoring for one reason or another."© TiVo

The 1977 release of Star Wars: Episode IV - A New Hope exponentially changed the face of pop culture. Not since the mainland arrival of the Beatles had such an intense level of fanaticism possessed the American people. The film's rousing title sequence is as recognizable -- if not more so -- than the national anthem, and composer John Williams' Oscar-winning score is a marvel of pulp tension, Holst grandeur, and Wagner-inspired motifs. Never before had the general public been given such memorable, accessible, and instantly identifiable character themes. Williams develops these ideas masterfully at the soundtrack's beginning, allowing the lonely horn-driven "Jedi" theme, like Luke Skywalker himself, the time to grow, waiting patiently before unleashing it in full with the bombastic and ceremonial end piece "The Throne Room." Shadows of the composer's finest contribution, "Imperial March," can be heard brewing beneath the ominous cello section during "Imperial Attack." This is perhaps the most important thread on A New Hope, and charting its growth through to its full-blown Empire Strikes Back glory is fascinating. Williams is a true student of cinema, and his love for the works of Henry Mancini -- "Cantina Band," anyone? -- Miklos Rosa, and Bernard Herrmann are in full effect, but like George Lucas, who based his entire concept on old radio and television serials, the results are reverent without having been recycled. A New Hope was the beginning of a grand love affair with science fiction and mythology, and the world embraced every aspect of its astronomical rise to legend, but without Williams' exceptional contributions that affair may have been very short-lived. [In 2004 Sony Classical released double-disc collector's editions of episodes four through six in anticipation of the films' release on DVD. Remastered and sporting 3-D covers, each soundtrack includes the score in its entirety, a poster foldout, and screen savers depicting rare Japanese book covers. In some cases, alternate tracks and extended versions are included. For Star Wars: Episode IV - A New Hope, the archival bonus track "Binary Sunset" is featured.]© TiVo

The Police never really broke up, they just stopped working together -- largely because they just couldn't stand playing together anymore and partially because Sting was itching to establish himself as a serious musician/songwriter on his own terms. Anxious to shed the mantle of pop star, he camped out at Eddy Grant's studio, picked up the guitar, and raided Wynton Marsalis' band for his new combo -- thereby instantly consigning his solo debut, The Dream of the Blue Turtles, to the critical shorthand of Sting's jazz record. Which is partially true (that's probably the best name for the meandering instrumental title track), but that gives the impression that this is really risky music, when he did, after all, rely on musicians who, at that stage, were revivalists just developing their own style, and then had them jam on mock-jazz grooves -- or, in the case of Branford Marsalis, layer soprano sax lines on top of pop songs. This, however, is just the beginning of the pretensions layered throughout The Dream of the Blue Turtles. Only twice does he delve into straightforward love songs -- the lovely measured "Consider Me Gone" and the mournful closer, "Fortress Around Your Heart" -- preferring to consider love in the abstract ("If You Love Somebody Set Them Free," one of his greatest solo singles, and the childish, faux-reggae singalong "Love Is the Seventh Wave"), write about children in war and in coal mines, revive a Police tune about heroin, ponder whether "Russians love their children too," and wander the streets of New Orleans as the vampire Lestat. This is a serious-minded album, but it's undercut by its very approach -- the glossy fusion that coats the entire album, the occasional grabs at worldbeat, and studious lyrics seem less pretentious largely because they're overshadowed by such bewilderingly showy moves as adapting Prokofiev for "Russians" and calling upon Anne Rice for inspiration. And that's the problem with the record: with every measure, every verse, Sting cries out for the respect of a composer, not a pop star, and it gets to be a little overwhelming when taken as a whole. As a handful of individual cuts -- "Fortress," "Consider Me Gone," "If You Love Somebody," "Children's Crusade" -- he proves that he's subtler and craftier than his peers, but only when he reins in his desire to show the class how much he's learned.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Perhaps a bit more conscious of contemporary soul trends than her previous Philips albums, this is still very characteristic of her mid-'60s work in its eclectic mix of jazz, pop, soul, and some blues and gospel. Hal Mooney directs some large band arrangements for the material on this LP without submerging Simone's essential strengths. The more serious and introspective material is more memorable than the good-natured pop selections here. The highlights are her energetic vocal rendition of the Oscar Brown/Nat Adderley composition "Work Song" and her spiritual composition "Come Ye," on which Simone's inspirational vocals are backed by nothing other than minimal percussion.© Richie Unterberger /TiVo

Two generations. Two styles. Two voices. And an album in common… For about twenty years, crooner Tony Bennett and singer and pianist Diana Krall had produced a few duos here and there, but never an entire album. With this Love Is Here To Stay, they jumped right in and involved another five-star tandem in their enchanted parenthesis of refined vocal jazz: George and Ira Gershwin. They went digging through the vast repertoire of the most famous brothers of 20th American popular music to create this album that seems from another time, produced with the trio of impeccable pianist Bill Charlap, Peter Washington on the double bass and Kenny Washington on drums… Tackling the Great American Songbook is always a redeeming and almost necessary baptism of fire for any worthy jazz singer. And these two didn’t wait for 2018 to do it. Here, each one excels in what they do best, even if, at 92 years of age, Tony Bennett obviously doesn’t have the same organ as he did when he sung I Left My Heart In San Francisco, which made him popular in 1962. Sinatra’s favourite singer knows it, and manages to find a range in line with his vocal condition. The result is particularly touching. A great professional, Diana Krall adapted her singing to the New Yorker, turning their exchanges into endearing, slightly retro flirting. The 38 years between them become the main asset of an old-fashioned yet delightful album. © Clotilde Maréchal/Qobuz

An enchanting songstress, Kate Bush reflects the most heavenly views of love on the aptly titled The Sensual World. The follow-up to Hounds of Love features Bush unafraid to be a temptress, vocally and lyrically. She's a romantic, frolicking over lust and love, but also a lover of life and its spirituality. The album's title track exudes the most sensually abrasive side of Bush, but she is also one to remain emotionally intact with her heart and head. The majority of The Sensual World beams with a carefree spirit of strength and independence. "Love and Anger," which features blistering riffs by Bush's mentor and cohort David Gilmour, thrives on self-analysis -- typically cathartic of Bush. Michael Nyman's delicate string arrangements allow the melodic "Reaching Out" to simply arrive, freely floating with Bush's lush declaration ("reaching out for the star/reaching out for the star that explodes") for she's always searching for a common peace, a commonality to make comfort. What makes this artist so intriguing is her look toward the future -- she appears to look beyond what's present and find a peculiar celestial atmosphere in which human beings do exist. She's conscious of technology on "Deeper Understanding" and of a greater life on the glam rock experimental "Rocket's Tail (For Rocket)," yet she's still intrinsic to the reality of an individual's heart. "Between a Man and a Woman" depicts pressure and heartbreak, but it's the beauty of "This Woman's Work" that makes The Sensual World the outstanding piece of work that it is. She possesses maternal warmth that's surely inviting, and it's something that's made her one of the most prolific female singer/songwriters to emerge during the 1980s. She's never belonged to a core scene. Bush's intelligence, both as an artist and as a woman, undoubtedly casts her in a league of her own.© MacKenzie Wilson /TiVo

Released in 1973, three years after the separation of The Beatles, this compilation from 1962-1966 (more commonly known as the The Red Album) brings together 26 songs recorded, as indicated by the title, between 1962 and 1966. From Love Me Do (opening track) to Yellow Submarine (closing track), how far the four boys from Liverpool came in that period is quite awe-inspiring. It is especially fascinating to realize, in retrospect, that all of these masterpieces were recorded in just five short years! The artistic evolution that is taking shape here is also stunning: the mischievous and restless debut, the birth of the writing of Lennon/McCartney, the evolution of work in the studio... this double compilation allows you to hear and understand this rather unique period in the history of rock'n'roll and pop. Its blue twin, The Beatles 1967 - 1970, was released simultaneously and is obviously an indispensable companion. ©MZ/Qobuz, Translation/BM

Joe's Garage was originally released in 1979 in two separate parts; Act I came first, followed by a two-record set containing Acts II & III. Joe's Garage is generally regarded as one of Zappa's finest post-'60s conceptual works, a sprawling, satirical rock opera about a totalitarian future in which music is outlawed to control the population. The narrative is long, winding, and occasionally loses focus; it was improvised in a weekend, some of it around previously existing songs, but Zappa manages to make most of it hang together. Acts II & III give off much the same feel, as Zappa relies heavily on what he termed "xenochrony" -- previously recorded guitar solos transferred onto new, rhythmically different backing tracks to produce random musical coincidences. Such an approach is guaranteed to produce some slow moments as well, but critics latched onto the work more for its conceptual substance. Joe's Garage satirizes social control mechanisms, consumerism, corporate abuses, gender politics, religion, and the rock & roll lifestyle; all these forces conspire against the title protagonist, an average young man who simply wants to play guitar and enjoy himself. Even though Zappa himself hated punk rock and even says so on the album, his ideas seemed to support punk's do-it-yourself challenge to the record industry and to social norms in general. Since this is 1979-era Zappa, there are liberal applications of his trademark scatological humor (the titles of "Catholic Girls," "Crew Slut," "Why Does It Hurt When I Pee?," and "Keep It Greasey" are self-explanatory). Still, in spite of its flaws, Joe's Garage has enough substance to make it one of Zappa's most important '70s works and overall political statements, even if it's not focused enough to rank with his earliest Mothers of Invention masterpieces.© Steve Huey /TiVo

In 2013, Chick Corea teamed up with a couple of gold-standard rhythmists - Christian McBride on the double bass and Brian Blade on drums - with whom he recorded Trilogy, a brilliant live album which saw him blend his own repertoire with classic standards by Thelonious Monk, Jerome Kern, Oscar Hammerstein, Kurt Weil, Irving Berlin & co. Just as the title indicates, Trilogy 2 repeats the exercise: same cast, same idea, same great result. Of course, the relationship between the three of them has been consolidated over the years. And while Corea’s piano remains one of the best of his generation, it’s the McBride/Blade tandem that really shines as a creative stroke of genius. The accuracy of their interventions and punctuations are staggering, never off-kilter and never over the top. Finally, the repertoire is a touch more original than on the previous Trilogy, with Steve Swallow’s Eiderdown, Monk’s Crepuscule with Nellie, 500 Miles High by Return to Forever, Lotus Blossom by Billy Strayhorn as well as Pastime Paradise by Stevie Wonder. © Max Dembo/Qobuz

The fourth release in Tom Waits' series of skid row travelogues, Small Change proves to be the archetypal album of his '70s work. A jazz trio comprising tenor sax player Lew Tabackin, bassist Jim Hughart, and drummer Shelly Manne, plus an occasional string section, back Waits and his piano on songs steeped in whiskey and atmosphere in which he alternately sings in his broken-beaned drunk's voice (now deeper and overtly influenced by Louis Armstrong) and recites jazzy poetry. It's as if Waits were determined to combine the Humphrey Bogart and Dooley Wilson characters from Casablanca with a dash of On the Road's Dean Moriarty to illuminate a dark world of bars and all-night diners. Of course, he'd been in that world before, but in songs like "The Piano Has Been Drinking" and "Bad Liver and a Broken Heart," Waits gives it its clearest expression. Small Change isn't his best album. Like most of the albums Waits made in the '70s, it's uneven, probably because he was putting out one a year and didn't have time to come up with enough first-rate material. But it is the most obvious and characteristic of his albums for Asylum Records. If you like it, you also will like the ones before and after; otherwise, you're not Tom Waits' kind of listener.© William Ruhlmann /TiVo

Walter Becker and Donald Fagen were remarkable craftsmen from the start, as Steely Dan's debut, Can't Buy a Thrill, illustrates. Each song is tightly constructed, with interlocking chords and gracefully interwoven melodies, buoyed by clever, cryptic lyrics. All of these are hallmarks of Steely Dan's signature sound, but what is most remarkable about the record is the way it differs from their later albums. Of course, one of the most notable differences is the presence of vocalist David Palmer, a professional blue-eyed soul vocalist who oversings the handful of tracks where he takes the lead. Palmer's very presence signals the one major flaw with the album -- in an attempt to appeal to a wide audience, Becker and Fagen tempered their wildest impulses with mainstream pop techniques. Consequently, there are very few of the jazz flourishes that came to distinguish their albums -- the breakthrough single, "Do It Again," does work an impressively tight Latin jazz beat, and "Reelin' in the Years" has jazzy guitar solos and harmonies -- and the production is overly polished, conforming to all the conventions of early-'70s radio. Of course, that gives these decidedly twisted songs a subversive edge, but compositionally, these aren't as innovative as their later work. Even so, the best moments ("Dirty Work," "Kings," "Midnight Cruiser," "Turn That Heartbeat Over Again") are wonderful pop songs that subvert traditional conventions and more than foreshadow the paths Steely Dan would later take.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo