Albert Brooks 2033

Compared to Frozen Alive!, Live in Japan is a little more drawn-out and funky, featuring extended jamming on several songs. That isn't necessarily a bad thing - Collins and his bandmates can work a groove pretty damn well. Of course, the main reason to listen to an Albert Collins album is to hear the man play. And play he does throughout Live in Japan, spitting out piercing leads with glee. On the whole, it's not quite as consistent as Frozen Alive!, but that's only by a slight margin.

Ice Pickin' is the album that brought Albert Collins directly back into the limelight, and for good reason, too. The record captures the wild, unrestrained side of his playing that had never quite been documented before. Though his singing doesn't quite have the fire or power of his playing, the album doesn't suffer at all because of that - he simply burns throughout the album. Ice Pickin' was his first release for Alligator Records and it set the pace for all the albums that followed. No matter how much he tried, Collins never completely regained the pure energy that made Ice Pickin' such a revelation.

While Ace's previous Hadda Brooks disc, Romance in the Dark, concentrated on her excellent mellow vocal sides, it left the instrumental boogie-woogie aspect of her musical talents unexplored. Swingin' the Boogie corrects that with this amazing release. Brooks recorded many of these tunes for the Modern label, initially released on 78s. Often after the "official session" concluded, there was still studio time available. In these instances, Brooks would pound out amazing boogie-woogie tracks for kicks. Swingin' the Boogie is the first disc to focus entirely on that output. Among the 18 tracks, six were previously unissued, and it includes the rare original flip side of "Swingin' the Boogie," "Just a Little Blusie."

The very title of Garth Brooks' 2014 comeback Man Against Machine telegraphed how the singer saw himself in the 2010s: he was an outsider, taking on the establishment. Man Against Machine debuted at number one and sold well but it didn't conquer the charts – none of its singles went further than 19 on Billboard's Country Airplay charts – and, in light of this, Brooks did something uncharacteristic: he decided to retreat. On Gunslinger – its title consciously evoking the western themes of No Fences and Ropin' the Wind – Brooks is so unconcerned with hits that he decided that "Baby, Let's Lay Down and Dance," a slice of country-disco that sounds like a kissing cousin to Orleans' "Still the One," was a good idea for a lead single. And, in a way, he's right. Gunslinger has its heart in the past, existing on a plane between Brooks' arena-country '90s hits and his '70s AM influences. The difference is, Brooks is comfortable in his middle age. It's not just that his maturation gives him an easy touch in performance – although that does help – it's that he's no longer obsessed with being the biggest, best star in country music.