Kidnie Mudy on The 昨晩

Writing on the Wall's only album was theatrical heavy blues-psychedelic-rock that, despite its power and menace, was too obviously derivative of better and more original artists to qualify as a notable work. The organ-guitar blends owe much to the Doors, Procol Harum, and Traffic, though the attitude is somehow more sour and ominous than any of those groups. The vocals are sometimes pretty blatant in their homages to Arthur Brown, particularly when Linnie Paterson climbs to a histrionic scream; Jim Morrison, Gary Brooker, and Stevie Winwood obviously left their imprints on him too. Throw in some of the portentous drama from the narrations to the Elektra astrological concept album The Zodiac: Cosmic Sounds (particularly on "Aries") as well…

Jericho was a surprise. The reunited Band, minus guitarist Robbie Robertson, created an album that built on their strengths by using carefully selected contemporary songwriters and covers. Although it lacked the resonance of Music From Big Pink or even Stage Fright, the group sounded fresh and it was a better album than most of the Band's solo records. High on the Hog, the second album by the reunited Band, isn't quite as good but it has a number of stellar moments. The key to the album's success isn't the material – they're saddled with a couple of weak songs – but the group's interplay. By now, the musicians have developed a sympathetic interaction that sounds ancient but still living, breathing and vital. It's a joy to hear them play and that's what carries High on the Hog over its rough spots.

The first eight tracks on this disc are rock and pop, including songs from Edie Brickell & The New Bohemians, Don McLean, and the Temptations. The last six are from the pen of John Williams. The music literally haunts you as you watch the movie. It's just as effective here.

Stephen Paulus was an astonishingly prolific fixture of the American music scene, with some 600 works to his credit. His sudden death in 2014 left classical music—particularly the worlds of opera and choral music—significantly the poorer, so it’s inevitable that we should see his legacy memorialised with new additions to the catalogue. Royal Holloway’s ‘Calm on the Listening Ear of Night’ sets Paulus’s music in dialogue with another Midwestern composer, René Clausen. It’s Clausen whose musical personality emerges most strongly here in these precise performances. His works offer a distinctively American spin on the fashionable Baltic sound world of Ešenvalds and Vasks that is as appealing as it is generous. In pace, which opens the disc, offers eight minutes of lushly filmic excess.

Considering how lackluster some of David Byron's early solo work (and final days with Uriah Heep) sounds today, it is not only refreshing, but astonishing, to run head first into On the Rocks and find the old voice box sounding better than it had in years. Packed with some of the most menacing riffs of his career – check out "King" – and a voice that roars on the right side of anger, On the Rocks is the sound of classic Heep, shot through with both the fresh adrenalin of the NWOBHM and an ear for what was going on elsewhere in the world. "Start Believing" layers in Mel Collins' sax to add an almost funky feel to the proceedings, even as "Piece of My Love" echoes on bluesy piano, while "Bad Girl" is simply slinky.