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Supertramp came into their own on their third album, 1974's Crime of the Century, as their lineup gelled but, more importantly, so did their sound. The group still betrayed a heavy Pink Floyd influence, particularly in its expansive art rock arrangements graced by saxophones, but Supertramp isn't nearly as spooky as Floyd -- they're snarky collegiate elitists, an art rock variation on Steely Dan or perhaps a less difficult 10cc, filled with cutting jokes and allusions, best heard on "Bloody Well Right." This streak would later flourish on Breakfast in America, but it's present enough to give them their own character. Also present is a slight sentimental streak and a heavy fondness for pop, heard on "Dreamer," a soaring piece of art pop that became their first big hit. That and "Bloody Well Right" are the concise pop moments on the record; the rest of Crime of the Century is atmospheric like Dark Side of the Moon, but with a lighter feel and a Beatles bent. At times the album floats off into its own world, with an effect more tedious than hypnotic, but it's still a huge leap forward for the group and their most consistent album outside of that 1979 masterwork, Breakfast in America.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

While both Liam Gallagher and Noel Gallagher have had some pretty good moments in their hit-or-miss solo careers, neither has been able to match what they had together as brothers in Oasis: the one-upmanship competition that pushed both to be better, yes, but also the us-against-the-world sibling camaraderie. Both need a foil to play off. Liam has been winning the race recently, though. For one thing, he's found the right producer in Greg Kurstin (Adele, Foo Fighters), who pushed him to great heights with 2022's C'mon You Know. But now he's teamed up with one of his hometown heroes: John Squire, legendary guitarist for Manchester's beloved Stone Roses, the band that Liam has said made him want to get behind a microphone. And damn if it's not an absolutely delightful, inspired pairing. (And if it makes Noel jealous, bonus points—right?) He's also brought Kurstin along for the ride, which was a wise decision. The set-up works as Oasis used to: Squire writes the songs, à la Noel, and Liam is just Liam. He sounds terrific here, and unmistakable. So does Squire, who absolutely wails on the excellent, Stone Roses-esque "Just Another Rainbow" and struts his stuff for groovy "Mars to Liverpool"; it's easy to imagine Oasis having gone in that direction had they not split in 2009. But the two don't just nod at their own past bands. Irresistible "One Day At a Time," which practically casts Squire's showy guitar as a duet partner for Liam, lifts a bit of the Rolling Stones' "Paint It, Black." Muscular "I'm So Bored" cribs from the Beatles' "Paperback Writer" (which also means it feels especially Oasis-esque). And "Love You Forever," which puts a psychedelic Madchester effect on Liam's sneer, owes a big debt to Hendrix and "Purple Haze." It's also boosted by monster fills from Joey Waronker—because if you're going to bring two Mancunian legends to Los Angeles to make a record, why not get that town's best studio drummer? Waronker adds a real kick to "You're Not the Only One," which also features great boogie-woogie piano and Squire's snarling runs. Single "Raise Your Hands" is a bit paint-by-numbers, but "I'm a Wheel" is unexpected: Squire and Kurstin, on bass, letting loose on 12-bar blues while an energized Liam delivers goofy lines like "Lock all the doors/ These aren't the droids/ You're looking for." It seems weird on paper—but wow, it works. (Thanks to Squire, too, for giving him lyrics like "Thank you for your thoughts and prayers/ And fuck you too" to gleefully nail.) "Mother Nature's Song" feels the most like a real Oasis-Roses crossover: Mersey paradise meets Beatlemania. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

In covering the Beatles, jazz pianist Brad Mehldau chose to focus on the "strangeness" of the band's music. But as he explains in the liner notes, it's also the "universality," present in parallel to strangeness, that makes it so inviting and influential; the combination of the two—which may also be the secret to the band's artistic immortality—is, according to Mehldau, what underpins his approach to this beautifully realized project. Filmed and recorded live in front of an audience at the Philharmonie de Paris, this session benefits from intelligently placed microphones and minimal applause. It was edited by Camille Grateau, mixed by Nicolas Poitrenaud, and mastered in the U.S. by Greg Calbi at Sterling Sound. Though cries of "sellout" from jazz purists are sure-to-come, listeners will find many insights into Mehldau's playing and the band's utterly original creative universe. Opening with an unbroken suite of three tunes in their entirety ("I Am The Walrus," "Your Mother Should Know and "I Saw Her Standing There"—the last of which he plays in barrelhouse piano style), it's very clear that Mehldau brought immense thought, passion and especially respect for the band's prismatic genius to this project. He genuinely feels this music, most of which was composed on piano. Sticking relatively close to the familiar melodies, Mehldau embroiders them with a flow of ideas and chordal tangents. His improvisations never venture too far out, however, nor are they ever disconnected from any song's basic emotional underpinning. As is to be expected, some interpretations are more successful than others. "Here, There and Everywhere," played mostly in the piano's highest registers, stretches and crystallizes but abruptly stops, apparently out of discovery. In other cases, Mehldau uncovers rich new veins of inspiration: He makes a high energy mini concerto out of the usually triumphant "Maxwell's Silver Hammer," improvising high notes, adding moody journeys of improvisation, and at times snapping back into choruses where he flashes ornate New Orleans piano professor bravado. Best of all, at least for sentimentalists, is the pianist—who's often accused of a certain detachment and coldness in his playing—lingering over lush Paul McCartney songs like "Golden Slumbers" and "For No One," raising their melodic purity to new heights of poignancy. A rambunctious, joyous success on every level. © Robert Baird/Qobuz

After performing his second-to-last selection, "White Light/White Heat," a tune by Lou Reed, the songwriter who most influenced Ziggy Stardust, David Bowie's enduring and indelible persona, Bowie dropped this little nugget on his fans (and bandmates): "Not only is it the last show of the tour, but it's the last show that we'll ever do. Thank you." He then went into a magnificent version of "Rock & Roll Suicide," a song that gives a glimpse of where Bowie could have gone, not to suicide, but to the style of rock & roll that a long-term band can provide. Had Bowie kept the Spiders from Mars together, unique flashes like the version of "Let's Spend the Night Together" or the striking "All the Young Dudes" would have continued, a tight little rock & roll band providing a balance that dissipated when the artist branched out on his own. The other unnerving thing about this double-LP soundtrack of a concert taped in 1973 and finally released in 1982 is that there are bootlegs which have more to offer sonically. The thin recording is shameful: don't expect Pink Floyd's Delicate Sound of Thunder or even the Rolling Stones' wonderfully sludgy "Get Your Ya Ya's Out." The remix of this only official live album from the Ziggy Stardust shows is dreadful. Ziggy Stardust: The Motion Picture doesn't have the electric excitement of the Live in Santa Monica '72 boot, and that's the fault of the remix by Mike Moran, Bruce Tergeson, Tony Visconti, and Bowie. Another bootleg, David Bowie with the Spiders from Mars, London, July 3, 1973, is the exact same Ziggy performance, but it comes across better, much better. According to Pimm Jal de la Parra's book David Bowie: The Concert Tapes, the bootleg was issued from the ABC TV 1974 broadcast. The bootleg also has "Jean Genie and "Love Me Do," which feature Jeff Beck on guitar, Beck's performances being absent from the official RCA soundtrack release. The shame of it all is that this double disc was released after David Live and Stage, and while the upside is it makes for a rare, three double-live sets from one performer, the downside is that the best of those three albums has the worst mix on official record. Also, had RCA released the October 1, 1972 Boston Music Hall show -- which was brilliant, despite Bowie having a cold that night -- or this July 3, 1973 London Hammersmith Odeon program back in the day, it could have had an enormous effect on Bowie's career. At that point in time, the fans wanted more Ziggy, and the timing of this release only shows how important it is to get the material out while it's hot. Just ask Peter Frampton, Bob Seger, and the J. Geils Band, who solidified their audiences with double-live sets at crucial points in their careers. Nonetheless, everything here is essential David Bowie; it is a great performance, and you definitely need it for your Bowie collection. The only thing better would be Lou Reed himself finally releasing the September 1973 first gig of his Rock 'n' Roll Animal Band, which was, as they say, the real thing.© Joe Viglione /TiVo

Borrowing heavily from Marc Bolan's glam rock and the future shock of A Clockwork Orange, David Bowie reached back to the heavy rock of The Man Who Sold the World for The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. Constructed as a loose concept album about an androgynous alien rock star named Ziggy Stardust, the story falls apart quickly, yet Bowie's fractured, paranoid lyrics are evocative of a decadent, decaying future, and the music echoes an apocalyptic, nuclear dread. Fleshing out the off-kilter metallic mix with fatter guitars, genuine pop songs, string sections, keyboards, and a cinematic flourish, Ziggy Stardust is a glitzy array of riffs, hooks, melodrama, and style and the logical culmination of glam. Mick Ronson plays with a maverick flair that invigorates rockers like "Suffragette City," "Moonage Daydream," and "Hang Onto Yourself," while "Lady Stardust," "Five Years," and "Rock 'n' Roll Suicide" have a grand sense of staged drama previously unheard of in rock & roll. And that self-conscious sense of theater is part of the reason why Ziggy Stardust sounds so foreign. Bowie succeeds not in spite of his pretensions but because of them, and Ziggy Stardust -- familiar in structure, but alien in performance -- is the first time his vision and execution met in such a grand, sweeping fashion.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Borrowing heavily from Marc Bolan's glam rock and the future shock of A Clockwork Orange, David Bowie reached back to the heavy rock of The Man Who Sold the World for The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. Constructed as a loose concept album about an androgynous alien rock star named Ziggy Stardust, the story falls apart quickly, yet Bowie's fractured, paranoid lyrics are evocative of a decadent, decaying future, and the music echoes an apocalyptic, nuclear dread. Fleshing out the off-kilter metallic mix with fatter guitars, genuine pop songs, string sections, keyboards, and a cinematic flourish, Ziggy Stardust is a glitzy array of riffs, hooks, melodrama, and style and the logical culmination of glam. Mick Ronson plays with a maverick flair that invigorates rockers like "Suffragette City," "Moonage Daydream," and "Hang Onto Yourself," while "Lady Stardust," "Five Years," and "Rock 'n' Roll Suicide" have a grand sense of staged drama previously unheard of in rock & roll. And that self-conscious sense of theater is part of the reason why Ziggy Stardust sounds so foreign. Bowie succeeds not in spite of his pretensions but because of them, and Ziggy Stardust -- familiar in structure, but alien in performance -- is the first time his vision and execution met in such a grand, sweeping fashion.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

After the freakish hard rock of The Man Who Sold the World, David Bowie returned to singer/songwriter territory on Hunky Dory. Not only did the album boast more folky songs ("Song for Bob Dylan," "The Bewlay Brothers"), but he again flirted with Anthony Newley-esque dancehall music ("Kooks," "Fill Your Heart"), seemingly leaving heavy metal behind. As a result, Hunky Dory is a kaleidoscopic array of pop styles, tied together only by Bowie's sense of vision: a sweeping, cinematic mélange of high and low art, ambiguous sexuality, kitsch, and class. Mick Ronson's guitar is pushed to the back, leaving Rick Wakeman's cabaret piano to dominate the sound of the album. The subdued support accentuates the depth of Bowie's material, whether it's the revamped Tin Pan Alley of "Changes," the Neil Young homage "Quicksand," the soaring "Life on Mars?," the rolling, vaguely homosexual anthem "Oh! You Pretty Things," or the dark acoustic rocker "Andy Warhol." On the surface, such a wide range of styles and sounds would make an album incoherent, but Bowie's improved songwriting and determined sense of style instead made Hunky Dory a touchstone for reinterpreting pop's traditions into fresh, postmodern pop music.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

There were comedic hip-hop records before De La Soul's first album. There were beats that pushed the limits not just of what sampling technology could do, but where those samples came from and how they riffed off each other. There were lyricists who broke so far out of the ABAB rhyme schemes of basic rap that it blew the potential for new flows and structures wide open. And there were eccentrics—artists who didn't appear to adhere to any previously existing formula for hip-hop in style, perspective, or attitude because they couldn't be anybody but themselves. But 3 Feet High and Rising did all those things to such a surprising extent for a debut album that its barrage of audaciously new and unique ideas planted a flag nobody's been able to fully uproot. Rappers Posdnuos and Trugoy, DJ/co-producer Maseo, and beatmaker Prince Paul pulled off a work that might've left more people scratching their heads in bafflement if it hadn't also solidified the appeal of hip-hop's emerging bohemian strain. Maybe it's because there's as much reliance on familiar if transformative referential pop-music hijackings (Steely Dan on "Eye Know"; Hall & Oates on "Say No Go") as on the kind of sublime crate digger silliness that lends cartoonish joy to cuts like the head-swimming shaky-kneed "Plug Tunin' (Last Chance to Comprehend)" or the mellow soul-jazz melange of early Native Tongues teamup "Buddy." Even the interstitial stuff fits, weird as it is—goofy skits about body odor ("A Little Bit of Soap") and passé fashion ("Take It Off") adds to their just-rap-about-whatever approach that acts as both a met artistic challenge and a casual bit of messing around. De La Soul would take great pains to control and define their own multifaceted image—peaking with hit single "Me Myself and I," which declares their defensiveness over being perceived as contrived hippie-fashion poseurs while also nodding to a clear silly-yet-deep musical precedent in Funkadelic. But it only takes a couple close listens of 3 Feet High and Rising—and the lyrical intricacy and storytelling in deep cuts like the empathetic social-struggle analysis "Ghetto Thang" and the stay-posi fable-spinning "Tread Water"—to realize they'd be impossible to pin down for the rest of their careers. © Nate Patrin/Qobuz

Anderson .Paak and Bruno Mars discovered a rapport in 2017 when the former, fresh off the release of Malibu, supported the latter on the 24K Magic tour. Mutual admiration and shared affinity for classic R&B predating their births, such as Motown and Philly soul -- and anything else with churning rhythm guitars, electric sitar, and flashy strings -- grew into Silk Sonic. The project was named by another favorite, funk legend Bootsy Collins, who hosts An Evening with Silk Sonic in expected cordial fashion on a handful of intros and featured appearances. The set would have to be left on repeat for at least six rotations to truly fill an evening -- it's only half an hour in length -- but none of the time is wasted. Paak and Mars might have had Teddy Pendergass' women-only concerts in mind as they made some of the ballads. "Leave the Door Open," an unlikely number one pop hit six months before the LP was released, is the number that best meshes the smooth and tender style of Mars with Paak's nephew-of-Bobby Womack rasp and comparatively Lothario-like (sometimes pushy) demeanor. The funkier slow jam "After Last Night" might invite comparisons to "Dick in a Box" but has a bit of Bootsy-style fantasy sleaze with a lyrical theme similar to "The Hunter Gets Captured By the Game." "Put On a Smile" provides more than mere entertainment with one of Mars' finest performances, while "Blast Off" coasts and sways like a 1979 Earth, Wind & Fire derivative. The energy in the uptempo material is all feel-good, too. The strutting "Fly as Me" lets loose a hook that recalls late-'60s/early '70s George Clinton ("[I Wanna] Testify," "I Wanna Know If It's Good to You"). "777," the most arrogant and ballerific cut, is shrewdly followed by the dashing roller disco jam "Skate," a Top 20 hit that preceded the album. The duo's playfulness here verges on hammy at times -- more often than on their solo recordings. The trade-off is that they push each other into new levels of showmanship without pandering to the audience. Besides, there's some genuinely witty stuff here. It's a wonder how Mars was able to keep his face straight while grousing, "Musta spent 35-45 thousand up in Tiffany's/Got her bad-ass kids runnin' round my whole crib like it's Chuck E. Cheese."© Andy Kellman /TiVo

Since his appearance on the French jazz scene in the early 2000s, Baptiste Trotignon has imposed himself as one of the most brilliant pianists of his generation. He has multiplied the prestigious collaborations (Aldo Romano, Stefano Di Battista, Brad Mehldau…) and personal projects of various formats and registers, from pure solo work (Solo, Body And Soul) to quintets (Share). Alongside this, is the neo-classical piano concerto Different Spaces with Nicholas Angelich as a soloist, as well as an album of “songs” (Song, Song, Song). However, it is without a doubt in the intimate and egalitarian setting of a trio, which he revisits regularly as if to recharge his batteries, that he displays the most spontaneous part of his talent. His inaugural album Fluide, recorded in 2000 with Clovis Nicolas on bass and Tony Rabeson on drums, was followed by Hit in 2014 with Thomas Bramerie and Jeff Ballard. This time it’s accompanied by Matt Penman and Greg Hutchinson that he creates this particularly joyous new album, made up entirely of covers of great English pop classics. Merrily going from The Beatles to Radiohead, from Pink Floyd to The Rolling Stones, from The Police and Led Zeppelin to Elvis Costello and even Robert Wyatt, Baptiste Trotignon highlights his dazzling style that mixes velocity with rigour. He fully plays the lyricism and virtuosity card in intense, energetic sequences, full of fluttering arabesques, always articulated with great legibility and constant attention to the melody. Far from a slightly haughty exercise in style that would overcomplicate simplistic thematic material with clever reharmonizations, the trio pays complete homage to the melodic energy and sumptuousness of these songs that already belong to our collective imaginary, in doing so creating a record that is as lovingly audacious as it is perpetually inventive. © Stéphane Ollivier/Qobuz

The return to form that began on 2016's Dystopia continues with The Sick, the Dying...and the Dead!, the 16th studio album from metal institution Megadeth. As with Dystopia, Megadeth ringleader Dave Mustaine and his bandmates focus on precision thrash, this time around turning in a tighter, cleaner batch of songs that feel both intently focused and streamlined for maximum intensity. The time leading up to the album wasn't an easy one for the band, however, and the six years that passed between the last record and this one stand as the longest time between new material in the band's nearly 40-year history. The turbulent time spent working on The Sick included not just Mustaine being diagnosed with and aggressively treated for throat cancer but also Megadeth co-founder and bassist David Ellefson leaving the band due to his involvement in a sex scandal. The hard-fought nature of this particular chapter in the band's development can be heard in the songs, which are, for the most part, no-nonsense ragers marked by the kind of technical perfection the band made their name on in the '80s and '90s. After the title track opens the album with a somewhat conceptual, meandering arrangement, Megadeth gets right down to business with the speedy and powerful "Life in Hell," a song that matches the snarling menace of anything in the band's catalog. New drummer Dirk Verbeuren makes his debut on The Sick, and his economical but relentless playing is a huge factor in the direct force that defines the album. Six-and-a-half-minute mini-epic "Night Stalkers" is a swarm of riffs and Mustaine's well-established war imagery, with an unexpected voiceover cameo from Ice-T. The band stays primarily in full-on mode, with sinister blasters like "We'll Be Back" and "Celebutante" giving way to only slightly less brutal workouts like the creeping "Killing Time," which includes one of the album's most masterfully constructed breakdowns. Mustaine has sounded angry and irritated on almost every song he's ever recorded, but the bile is a little thicker on The Sick. It's a tense and impatient record, even by Megadeth's standards, and re-affirms the band's status as completely essential metal deities who are still operating on a level of excellence most of their peers fell from decades ago. © Fred Thomas /TiVo

The sixth full-length effort from the veteran alt-rockers, It's the End of the World, But It's a Beautiful Day sees the Jared and Shannon Leto-led ensemble deliver an assured set of prog-, pop-, and electronic-leaning songs that play to all the band's strengths. Inspired by the sounds of '70s and '80s electronic music, the album is the group's first effort, apart from their debut, to not feature guitarist Tomo Miličević, who left the fold in 2018. The 11-song set includes the streaming hits "Stuck," "Life Is Beautiful," and "Get Up Kid."© TiVo

Gaspare's Spontini's French-language La Vestale is probably the most often heard of his operas, but that is not saying much; the work was sung by Maria Callas in the 1950s, but performances are sparse. Here, it is revived in period style by Les Talens Lyriques and conductor Christophe Rousset, and a very good case is made for further attention. The story is action-packed; Julia, in the absence of her lover, General Licinius, becomes una Vestale, a Vestal Virgin and guards a sacred flame. When Licinius returns to town, the flame goes out, and Julia is sentenced to be buried alive. Licinius rallies his troops, vowing to kidnap Julia, and the flame is reignited later by a lightning strike. Spontini's orchestration of this tale is Beethovenian in its dimensions, and despite the difficulties of natural horns, it is exciting to hear this opera as Napoleon (thought to be the model for Licinius) and Josephine (who backed the opera) heard it. The singers are not Callas-level, but throughout, and especially in the choruses, there is a commitment to the text and its meaning that is rare in any kind of recording. Marina Rebeka, in the role of Julia, is fully involved in the character's plight, and the smoky-voiced Aude Extrémo as La Grande Vestale is worth the price of admission on her own. The singers are aided by clear, spacious studio sound engineering from the early opera specialist label Palazzetto Bru Zane, whose high standards are perhaps even exceeded here. © James Manheim /TiVo

After nearly a decade out of the game as a band, Yeah Yeah Yeahs return showing signs of growth and armed with real surprises. Ballad "Lovebomb," with its spoken-word verses and spacey landscape, is pure chill-out music—a seeming oxymoron to classic songs like "Zero," "Heads Will Roll," "Bang" and even their high-octane hit "Maps." And while they have long made raw dance-rock, "Wolf" is slick with heavily baroque synth and flashy '80s rhythm. Frontwoman Karen O sets the tone immediately from the first line: "I'm hungry like a wolf," she sings, though the track has more in common with Duran Duran's atmospheric self-titled debut than the sheen of Rio. There are also references to the good old bad days of downtown NYC—the ones that previously influenced the YYYs' 2000s era. The album takes its name from a 1970 Velvet Underground deep cut, and the super-sinuous "Fleez" combines Blondie's "Rapture" rap-speak with hard-edged melodies and flashpoint drums. O has said that first single "Spitting Off the Edge of the World," meanwhile, is her attempt to evoke David Bowie. It's a good one: a big, grand, elegant synth-heavy power ballad and duet with Perfume Genius' Mike Hadreas. The song also, in a way, references the YYYs' own past. When the band started around 20 years ago, O was known for her wild stage presence and especially her signature move of spitting beer onto the crowd in a glorious arc. (In fact, the lyrics are about trying to explain the horrors of climate change to her young son, and—surprise again—coming away with a sense of hope.) "Burning" is a piano drama about a night in the late '90s when O left a candle burning and accidentally set a fire in her apartment; it demolished much of her stuff but, she has said, "mysteriously" left some of her most beloved belongings unharmed: "I had photos of my parents in their youth where the fire burnt around the two of them as if there was some intangible force field protecting them." She added, "If the world is on fire I hope the most beloved stay protected and that we do all we can to protect what we cherish most in this life." The band encourages that with scuzzed-out guitar, showy '70s R&B strings and a nod to Frankie Valli's "Beggin'" (the same song that made Måneskin famous). Sunny and upbeat, "Different Today" shows Nick Zinner's unmistakable guitar is now more punchy and less spiked. And "Mars" is yet another spoken-word interlude, finding O in a reflectiive mood about her life and the world. With just 8 songs, Cool It Down clocks in at barely over 30 minutes; as always, the band knows how to leave fans wanting more. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz