1st Press Japan Yngwie Malmsteen Pocp Trilogy

The Cars' disbandment wasn’t necessarily fractious but their afterlife sure was, with the band itching to reunite while their lead voice and face, Ric Ocasek, opted out. Bassist Benjamin Orr died of pancreatic cancer in 2000, but that didn’t slow the desire for a reunion. Guitarist Elliot Easton and keyboardist Greg Hawkes took matters into their own hands in 2005, joining forces with Todd Rundgren and associates for the not-bad-at-all New Cars, and that seemed to be the end of the story until 2010, when all surviving members – Ocasek, Easton, Hawkes, and drummer David Robinson – headed into the studio with producer Jacknife Lee, who also pinch-hit on bass, to cut Move Like This, an album that defies all odds by sounding exactly like a classic Cars album.

In contrast to the earthy, rootsy qualities of Bella Donna, Stevie Nicks took a slicker, more high-tech approach on her third solo album, Rock a Little. But for all its glossiness, this pop/rock CD comes across as sincere and heartfelt rather than formulaic or contrived. From the catchy "I Can't Wait" to the intense "No Spoken Word" to the dark "The Nightmare," everything on Rock a Little is as honest as it is memorable. Assisting Jimmy Iovine and Rick Nowels with the production, Nicks wisely sees to it that technology adds to her songs instead of smothering or overpowering them.

Though Chris Rea has been around for nearly 25 years now, it's good to go back to his beginnings as a songwriter and guitarist who carved out a niche for himself with a late-night brand of very British formalist rock & roll that owes as much to J.J. Cale as it does to Dire Straits. But it's the late-night sound that is his trademark and it was in evidence on this, his very first outing. He has help from drummer Dave Mattacks, keyboardist Pete Wingfield, percussionist Ray Cooper, bassist Dave Paton, and a host of other dignitaries. What separates Rea, and did from the very beginning, is his belief in having his songs finished by the time they were pressed and out the door.

When Jeff Lynne was growing up, he listened to music on longwave radio, soaking up all the sounds coming through the big radio in the living room. His 2012 tribute to these days, appropriately called Long Wave, is a far-reaching salute to the glory days of pop in the years before the Beatles. It's too easy to peg this as a standards album, a designation that isn't quite accurate. Lynne may cover many show tunes along with '50s favorites of big-band vocalists but he spends nearly as much time with rock & roll, and not just the operatic pop of his fellow Traveling Wilbury Roy Orbison, either. He cranks through Chuck Berry's "Let It Rock," slides into the silken harmonies of the Everly Brothers on "So Sad," and grooves through Don Covay's "Mercy, Mercy."

Shadowland are a British progressive rock band formed in the 1990s. The band's music tends towards the pop side of progressive rock, while retaining its melodic and emotional intensity. Shadowland took a lengthy break from recording and performing between 1996 and 2009. During this time Nolan was writing and performing in Arena, which has a heavier musical style. Nolan has also been Pendragon's regular keyboardist since 1986 and, more recently, has written and toured a rock opera entitled She in a partnership with Agnieszka Swita under the band name Caamora.

Although it's not on the same level as the best progressive bands – the drums and keyboards are not really up to the challenge presented by the guitars – this album has been rather unfairly written off by some music critics. Their debut begins with their strongest composition: "Voices," whose multiple movements, chorus lyrics of "a million voices singing," broad washes of mellotron, and alternating guitar tones make it sound like an outtake from Yes's "The Ancient." The instrumental "Theme" has some fine jazz-prog sax soloing over a lush backing, and "Dawn of Evening" has a wonderfully taut bassline march pushed to the front of the mix.

It's remarkable that Alanis Morissette's Jagged Little Pill struck a sympathetic chord with millions of listeners, because it's so doggedly, determinedly insular. This, after all, plays like an emotional purging, prompted by a bitter relationship – and, according to all the lyrical hints, that's likely a record executive who took advantage of a young Alanis. She never disguises her outright rage and disgust, whether it's the vengeful wrath of "You Oughta Know" or asking him "you scan the credits for your name and wonder why it's not there." This is such insider information that it's hard to believe that millions of listeners not just bought it, but embraced it, turning Alanis Morisette into a mid-'90s phenomenon.

Madeleine Peyroux took significantly less time than the eight years between her debut and its follow-up to release her third album, Half the Perfect World, which finds a more mature – or at least less vulnerable – singer, one who chooses to express herself with nuance rather than overtness. Often, like in the opening "I'm All Right" – one of four original songs – this aversion to unconcealed emotion works well, playing off the swelling Hammond, the swinging rhythm of the acoustic guitar (contrasting nicely with the hook of "It's all right, I've been lonely before"), and the simple drums. But at other times, like in "A Little Bit" – which is bluesy and more upbeat and practically screams for an outburst, a growl, something – her hesitancy instead almost comes across as a flaw, as a fear of fully expressing herself.