Louise de Penancoët de Keroualle (Lady Louise), a spy in the pay of Louis XIV, was the mistress of Charles II. Charged with keeping England under the influence of the Sun King, she forged close links between musicians on either side of the Channel. These political intentions generated a repertory as rich and brilliant as it was expressive. It is a genuine rediscovery that we owe to Ensemble Leviathan and Lucile Tessier. © harmonia mundi

Part of the Jazz in Paris series by the Gitanes label, this compilation draws from Django Reinhardt's last pair of recording sessions in 1953 (the first eight tracks make up the original Nuages album and served as a precursor for a Norman Granz Jazz at the Philharmonic world tour), which were two of his strongest ever. Gone was the shimmering but funky acoustic guitar of his gypsy swing youth, and in its place was a spanking new electric Gibson that, with its extended quick action, allowed him further flights of fancy not only on the fretboard but also sonically. Along with bassist Pierre Michelot, pianist Maurice Vander, and drummer Jean-Louis Viale (the rhythm section was considered to be avant-garde at the time), Reinhardt was off and running, carrying his new depth and breadth of intonation and electric harmonics to funky extremes -- check the end of "Night and Day," with its razor-wire chords and inverted arpeggios. Reinhardt's form was reckless and wild -- and impeccable -- on these sessions. He had thrown away his own songbook and turned to his restlessness to guide him to a new place musically -- and it did. Here, "Blues for Ike," "September Song," the title cut, "Brazil," and "Confessin'" are reinvented harmonically. Reinhardt stretched intervals to make one or two notes, or perhaps a chord, fall on the seam, splitting the rhythm section in two between passages. Much like a singer improvising, he took the plectrum style to a new extreme, playing runs so extended one wondered where melody ended and improvisation began -- particularly when he'd enter into an Eastern scale to branch out of the color palette. And all the while, his trademark high swinging style never once collapsed under the weight of his preeminent sophistication. The last four cuts feature a new band save for Michelot. The pianist was a very young Martial Solal, and Reinhardt engaged Solal's own gift for odd textures, phrasing, and tonalities on tunes such as "I Cover the Waterfront" and "Chez Moi," along with "Deccaphonie," where the band turns in a full-on loose-rail performance where rhythm is dictated by Reinhardt's falling fingers, hammering with both quickness and uncanny weight against a rhythm section that included vibist Fats Lallemand -- check the end of the first minute where Reinhardt cuts into his solo with feedback! The sound on this CD is remarkably good considering that the last four tunes were recorded in a makeshift studio -- the rest is excellent. The liner notes are sketchy but offer basic information, and the purchase price is fair. This may not be the place to start with Reinhardt, but it is a hell of a place to end up.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

This is the Django Reinhardt who might have been, recorded only two months before his death from a stroke. With a French bop rhythm section in tow, he thoroughly adapts himself to the prevailing idiom while allowing himself plenty of gypsy-flavored runs and those unique harmonic turns of phrase. Reinhardt's sharp attacks, fast runs, vibrato, and bright tone on electric guitar delineate the links to Les Paul much more clearly than his acoustic guitar recordings do (explicitly so in one of Paul's famous vehicles, "Brazil"), and runs like those on "Confessin'" must have had an effect upon Chet Atkins. Clearly, Reinhardt would have been a leading, distinctive light of mainstream bop-grounded jazz had he lived and toured outside France. He could also play the blues convincingly on the cool, swinging, and droll "Blues for Ike" (for the newly inaugurated President Eisenhower?). Nevertheless, there is a strain of melancholy that runs through most of this collection, nowhere more so than in his heart-stopping closing rendition of his tune "Manoir de Mese Reves" (also known as "Django's Castle"); one could read a portent of impending mortality into this. Issued on 10" LPs in the 1950s, first on Mercury, then on Clef, mutilated in the '70s with overdubs by a group called Guitars Unlimited, and not issued on CD until the early '90s, these sessions have not been given their due among historians. But they are indispensable for a total understanding of his music.© Richard S. Ginell /TiVo

Another typically wonderful LP of Ella Fitzgerald in her prime, Fitzgerald is joined by pianist Lou Levy, guitarist Herb Ellis, bassist Joe Mondragon, and drummer Stan Levey. Fitzgerald is in fine form on such numbers as "A Night in Tunisia," an emotional "You're My Thrill," "Jersey Bounce," and "Clap Hands! Here Comes Charlie." Although not reaching the heights of her live performances, this is an excellent (and somewhat underrated) set. © Scott Yanow /TiVo

With Paranoïa, Angels, True Love, Christine And The Queens embarks on a long spiritual journey, with Madonna as their guiding high priestess. The two artists met in 2015 during a concert by the American, when Madonna had invited him to go on stage to choreograph a few dance steps. For this album, Christine And the Queens called on her to speak instead of sing. Seduced by the sheer madness of the project, Madonna agreed to take part in three songs (Angels Crying in My Bed, I Met an Angel and Lick the Light Out). Christine And The Queens wanted to salute this iconic voice "which speaks with all the facets inscribed in our consciousness, taking on multiple forms and roles, from the maternal figure to the dominatrix". As for the second feature of the album, the American singer and rapper 070 Shake, who can be heard on True Love and Let Me Touch You Once, makes an appearance. The spiritual form of Paranoïa, Angels, True Love owes a lot to the music produced by Mike Dean (who works with Jay-Z and Beyoncé). Often coated with a trip hop colour that reflects the multiple influences of Christine And The Queens, the tracks cede the place of honour to spectrally high strings and ecstatic electric guitar solos. We also hear a mystical cover of Canon de Pachelbel (Full of Life). Finally, this album is a way for Christine and the Queens to showcase the full range of their voice, which has never been so mixed and reverberated, for it to have maximum effect (A Day in the Water). Paranoia, Angels, True Love can be perceived as the singer's tribute to a highly determined English-speaking pop, but the air of strange musical comedy shows that this resolutely atypical object belongs only to them. © Nicolas Magenham/Qobuz

"For Lilies I just wanted to retreat to a cave with my Pro-Tools, my computer, and my cheap, 100Euro Shure SM-58 microphone. I could have gone to a big studio, made a big production – but I wanted none of that. I wanted to go back to the seed of creativity, the simplest materials. I was in this room where there was no light, no night or day at all, no heat. Very uncomfortable. But I felt free. I was happy to have this feeling – ‘I don’t need more, I have everything I need here.’” The spirit and the context in which Melanie De Biasio created Lilies are certainly in keeping with this unique artist's life and work... A singer-musician who is always ready to question and challenge herself anew and push the boundary markers which are so often set down between musical genres. Released in 2013, her album No Deal excelled as an atmospheric meeting of jazz, electro and rock. The Belgian who worships Nina Simone and Abbey Lincoln took another departure from the beaten track with what is commonly called vocal jazz, and wandered towards soul, trip hop, blues: into the most impalpable of ethers. In these weightless sequences, Lilies is firmly stamped with the De Biasio hallmark. This is a way of doing away with labels and playing with light and dark, day and night. © MD/Qobuz

A “roadhouse” is a kind of roadside bar located in the middle of nowhere for drinking and listening to music. Thanks in part to David Lynch’s Twin Peaks, roadhouses have acquired a unique reputation and irremediably generate an image that is at once strange, comforting, and melancholic. For the conception of their sixth album, the members of the Australian group The Paper Kites have certainly had a Lynchian ambiance in mind, as the record’s sleeve proves. The photo taken by Dara Munnis represents an actual roadhouse where the group played every night for a month. All of the album’s songs are taken from the concerts performed during this unique residency in the small town of Campbells Creek. Sam Bentley, the leader of the group, explains that Roadhouse is the fruit of a “collective dream”. “We wanted it to be a combination of all the greatest dive bars you’ve ever been to, late-night watering holes, smoky taverns, biker bars”, he adds. The overall color of the album is country and folk, found in the ballads dominated by the banjo, the harmonica, or even the steel guitar (“Rolling On Easy”, “The Sweet Sound of You” and “Hurts So Good”). Others, like “Marietta”, “Mercy” and “I Don’t Want to Go That Way” can instead be put away in the syrupy romanticism aisle, which is emphasized by the singer’s beautifully mournful voice. As for the tracks “Black & Thunder” and “June’s Stolen Car”, they stray a bit from the original folk trajectory and swing toward a more bluesy rock flavor. It’s an atmospheric album that feels like a comforting pause in the middle of a long trip on the desert roads of Australia. ©Nicolas Magenham/Qobuz

One year after winning a Qobuzissime for his first Sibelius monograph, Klaus Mäkelä is back with the Orchestre de Paris for a programme devoted to Stravinsky's two stage masterpieces: The Rite of Spring and The Firebird. The Rite of Spring is perhaps best remembered for its chaotic premiere in May 1913, Paris, where it famously provoked a riot amongst the audience. Over time, this event has left its mark on history as one of the most notorious artistic scandals of the 20th century. It’s impossible to overlook this vital work today, and yet its canonisation has arguably caused its monstrous and archaic character to fade out of our collective memory.Somehow, Mäkelä manages to completely restore the cathartic dimension of the piece. From the meticulous choice of tempos to the contrasts between the different orchestral sections, every measure of the score is rich and invigorating. This young Finn is a true master, revealing himself as a conductor of rare sensitivity and incisive vision that commands with confidence. On the flipside, The Firebird is inspired by a Russian folk tale in which Ivan Tsarevich battles the demigod Kashchei. Under Mäkelä, it becomes a grandiose festival of light and sound; a ballet imbued with a visceral sense of urgency that keeps the listener captivated throughout. © Pierre Lamy/Qobuz