Arthur Lee

Arthur Crudup may well have been Elvis Presley's favorite bluesman. The swivel-hipped rock god recorded no less than three of "Big Boy's" Victor classics during his seminal rockabilly heyday: "That's All Right Mama" (Elvis' Sun debut in 1954), "So Glad You're Mine," and "My Baby Left Me." Often lost in all the hubbub surrounding Presley's classic covers are Crudup's own contributions to the blues lexicon. He didn't sound much like anyone else, and that makes him an innovator, albeit a rather rudimentary guitarist (he didn't even pick up the instrument until he was 30 years old).

Costumes Are Mandatory is very collegially advertised as a collaborative album featuring Ethan Iverson, Lee Konitz, Larry Grenadier, and Jorge Rossy. And while the music may indeed be collaborative, even multi-improvisational at times, it's Iverson's date and he's very clearly the leader.

Love was an American rock group of the late 1960s and early 1970s. They were led by singer, songwriter and guitarist Arthur Lee and the group's second songwriter, guitarist Bryan MacLean. One of the first racially diverse American pop bands, their music reflected different influences, combining elements of rock and roll, garage rock, folk and psychedelia. While finding only modest success on the music charts, Love would come to be praised by critics as one of the finest and most important American rock groups of all time. Their third album, Forever Changes (1967), is generally regarded as their masterpiece, included in the Library of Congress' National Recording Registry in 2011. Double-CD box contains most of their classic first three albums (including the entirety of Forever Changes), all three non-LP tracks from their 1966-1968 prime, and highlights of the post-Bryan MacLean albums from the late '60s and early '70s.

Love's Forever Changes made only a minor dent on the charts when it was first released in 1967, but years later it became recognized as one of the finest and most haunting albums to come out of the Summer of Love, which doubtless has as much to do with the disc's themes and tone as the music, beautiful as it is…

Three years after the enervated Here’s Tom with the Weather, Shack return with only their fifth album in an 18-year career. (And that doesn’t even count leader Mick Head’s former band, the Pale Fountains.) The title may name-check Gil Evans and Miles Davis, whose collaborations were the pinnacle of 1950s cool jazz, but On the Corner of Miles and Gil is no more jazz-influenced than any of Head’s previous albums. This is to say, the occasional stray muted trumpet figure or Wes Montgomery-style guitar line floats through these songs, but overall, the late Arthur Lee is a much bigger influence. Love’s trademark commingling of ominous, slightly paranoid lyrics and deceptively pretty melodies has always been Head’s primary starting point, but this album is Shack’s most vital and musically impassioned album in at least a decade.