Universal Music Group International

Rien n’est anodin chez lui, même pas sa mort. Un couteau planté dans la poitrine, c’est ainsi que Steven Paul Smith alias Elliott Smith s’en va à 34 ans. L’affaire conclut à un suicide, sans grande conviction. Ce qui met tout le monde d’accord, c’est sa fulgurante carrière, fermement adoubée par la planète rock toujours en quête de génie fauché, creusée hors du sillage du grunge qui vampirise le début des années 90. Après les explosions post-punk de son groupe Heatmiser, l’icône encore inconnue de Portland épanche très vite sa dépression en solo avec le confidentiel Roman Candle (1993) et écume déjà ses thèmes de prédilections, abandon et désillusions. C’est avec cet éponyme Elliott Smith que le succès commence à s’enclencher, doucement. Le label Kill Rock Stars – ironie du sort – en fera une belle promotion, placardant le visage d’Elliott à la vitrine sur les disquaires. Smith enregistre une nouvelle fois maison et l’empreinte sonore laissée est si intime qu’on croirait voir, sur le canapé de son ami Tony Lash, ses doigts glisser, ses lèvres souffler à mi-voix sa panoplie de ballades folk. De l’ouverture Needle In The Hay à la clôture The Biggest Lie en passant par Satellite, il déploie ses talents de songwriter avec trois bouts de ficelle et la lenteur de sa mélancolie. Il y a de rares touches de batterie et d’harmonica mais le tout reste dépouillé de tout efforts démonstratifs. “Je ne peux personnellement pas faire plus sombre que ça”, dira t-il plus tard, lui qui voulait édulcorer le propos. Mais on se refait pas. “Je pense que je suis juste aussi heureux tous ceux que je connais. Occasionnellement, donc”. Suivra ensuite la reconnaissance mondiale avec le nommé aux Oscars Miss Misery présent sur Will Hunting de Gus Van Sant, puis l’excellent Either/Or. Pour les 25 ans d’Elliott Smith, Kill Rock Stars en publie cette version remasterisée qui bénéficie des trouvailles du producteur et ingénieur du son Larry Crane qui, en fouillant dans les archives de l’époque, a déniché les meilleures sources de mixages de l’album. Mais le sel de cette édition anniversaire, c’est ce premier live solo, enregistré au Umbra Penumbra, un café de Portland, le 17 septembre 1994, où l’on entend Smith alpaguer l’auditeur entre deux morceaux. Une pépite. © Charlotte Saintoin/Qobuz

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This 1996 disc compiles music from the beginning of Andrea Bocelli's career, with tracks going back as far as 1992. At this point the blind Italian tenor, although trained in opera, was unabashedly a pop singer, just like the many other pop singers who have benefited from classical vocal training at one time or another. There is no controversy about whether Bocelli was a competent opera singer here, for there are no operatic arias, and not even any of the Neapolitan songs that he later essayed in American appearances -- all the music is contemporary, heavily string-enveloped (mostly) Italian pop. It was only later that Bocelli began to move into operatic territory -- a decision that brought down the wrath of much of the operatic community but also raised his international profile considerably. (The story of his reception would be worth some student's time to explore in depth.) It's worth remembering that Luciano Pavarotti's oft-cited endorsement of Bocelli referred to this stage of his career, not to his operatic ventures. Part of what appealed to Pavarotti may have been the consistent craftsmanship of the songs here; Pavarotti himself later recorded the evocative Caruso. These songs defined the Bocelli sound. He steered clear of his top register, using it only for occasional climactic effect, and mostly what he does here is all about the microphone -- he's a romantic crooner, and in that role he can stand with anybody else on the market today. There are a few clinkers. The concluding duet with Sarah Brightman -- Time to Say Goodbye (Con Ti Partirò) -- is forced. These two have some vocal traits in common and should blend well, but here Brightman has a tendency to sing the English lines with an affected Italian accent. Still, this is as good a place as any to start with the Italian tenor who has since become a worldwide phenomenon, and a sure-fire gift for someone who has experienced Bocelli's undoubted ability to snare listeners who get a taste of his voice in a chance encounter (as on a commercial for the Bellagio resort in Las Vegas). All Italian songs are translated into English in the booklet. © TiVo

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Frankie Miller is one of the great unsung rockers of the '70s, a blue-eyed soul singer on par with Rod Stewart and Joe Cocker who could also rock as hard as Bob Seger. All three of these artists recognized a kindred spirit in Miller, with all three covering his songs in the '70s and '80s. Like all hard-working rockers, Miller kept working right into the '90s, when he tragically suffered a brain hemorrhage while woodshedding a new band with Joe Walsh. After five months, he emerged from a coma but was paralyzed and lost his speech. His friends did their best to keep his legacy alive, a mission that peaks with 2016's Frankie Miller's Double Take. Instigated by the curiosity of Rod Stewart, producer David Mackay asked Miller's wife if there were any unreleased songs, and she sent him a bunch of tapes, which he then polished and refurbished into Double Take. Figuring that the best way to garner attention for the album was to get his friends and fans aboard, he constructed the album as set of duets, adding some additional instrumentation along the way. He got a bunch of heavy hitters: Stewart, Walsh, Elton John, Huey Lewis, Paul Carrack, Willie Nelson, and Kid Rock are all here, along with Bonnie Tyler and Kim Carnes -- two raspy-voiced soul singers who are natural foils for Miller -- Delbert McClinton, Steve Cropper, and John Parr. All these superstars do attract headlines, but they don't quite attract attention on Double Take, as each of the performers chooses to keep the focus on Miller's songs and, to a lesser extent, his singing. While the production is just a tad too polished to feel as gritty as Miller's best '70s works, the music is nevertheless in that vein and many of the songs are quite good, particularly the gospel-drenched Elton John number "Where Do the Guilty Go?" and the swaggering "Way Past Midnight" (performed with Lewis). "Kiss Her for Me" (with Stewart) is a pretty ballad and "Jezebel Jones" (with Kid Rock) is a prime slice of soulful rock. While it's tempting for the Miller faithful to wish he was singing lead on every song, it's clear this is a labor of love and we're fortunate to have these fine songs resurrected in whatever fashion we can get. © Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Frankie Miller is one of the great unsung rockers of the '70s, a blue-eyed soul singer on par with Rod Stewart and Joe Cocker who could also rock as hard as Bob Seger. All three of these artists recognized a kindred spirit in Miller, with all three covering his songs in the '70s and '80s. Like all hard-working rockers, Miller kept working right into the '90s, when he tragically suffered a brain hemorrhage while woodshedding a new band with Joe Walsh. After five months, he emerged from a coma but was paralyzed and lost his speech. His friends did their best to keep his legacy alive, a mission that peaks with 2016's Frankie Miller's Double Take. Instigated by the curiosity of Rod Stewart, producer David Mackay asked Miller's wife if there were any unreleased songs, and she sent him a bunch of tapes, which he then polished and refurbished into Double Take. Figuring that the best way to garner attention for the album was to get his friends and fans aboard, he constructed the album as set of duets, adding some additional instrumentation along the way. He got a bunch of heavy hitters: Stewart, Walsh, Elton John, Huey Lewis, Paul Carrack, Willie Nelson, and Kid Rock are all here, along with Bonnie Tyler and Kim Carnes -- two raspy-voiced soul singers who are natural foils for Miller -- Delbert McClinton, Steve Cropper, and John Parr. All these superstars do attract headlines, but they don't quite attract attention on Double Take, as each of the performers chooses to keep the focus on Miller's songs and, to a lesser extent, his singing. While the production is just a tad too polished to feel as gritty as Miller's best '70s works, the music is nevertheless in that vein and many of the songs are quite good, particularly the gospel-drenched Elton John number "Where Do the Guilty Go?" and the swaggering "Way Past Midnight" (performed with Lewis). "Kiss Her for Me" (with Stewart) is a pretty ballad and "Jezebel Jones" (with Kid Rock) is a prime slice of soulful rock. While it's tempting for the Miller faithful to wish he was singing lead on every song, it's clear this is a labor of love and we're fortunate to have these fine songs resurrected in whatever fashion we can get. © Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

« [...] Du Chicago Symphony (DG, 1972-1981) à la Staatskapelle, en passant par les Berliner Philharmoniker (Teldec/Warner, 1990-1997), le chemin brucknérien de Barenboim est celui de l’approfondissement et de l’intériorisation, tant au regard de la conception que de sa réalisation sonore et expressive. Il laisse être et respirer la musique avec une authentique simplicité – écoutez la très lyrique 7e. Il est désormais libre, émancipé de l’influence furtwänglérienne. Là où Chicago montrait sa puissance, la Staatskapelle expose son savoir-faire artisanal. Cette "modestie" sied à Bruckner. [...] On entend partout la sensibilité si musicale que Barenboim a développée avec la Staatskapelle dans cet univers. [...] cette intégrale est la plus poétique et touchante laissée par Barenboim. [...] fascinante (parfois désarmante) sensitivité dans les sections lyriques, les moments pianissimo, les passages quasi immobiles, bref, tous ces instants de pure respiration, nombreux chez Bruckner – la section centrale du finale de la 2e, avec ses ponctuations de cor, de trompette, son solo de flûte, est inoubliable. Et la conduite merveilleusement organique des phrases de cordes du Majestoso initial puis de l’Adagio de la 6e – ce sont les trésors de cette intégrale, la 4e suivant de peu. [...] » (Diapason, mars 2017 / Rémy Louis)