In a second disc of Ives’s songs, the unbeatable partnership of Finley and Drake again enthral their listeners and bring them to the emotional core of each work. The range of style and approach in Ives’s text-setting is startling—from simple, sentimental ballads to complex and strenuous philosophical discourses, sometimes encompassing the most dissonant and virtuosic piano parts, sometimes with the accompaniment pared down to an almost minimalist phrase-repetition. Even those composed in a superficially conventional or ‘polite’ tonal idiom usually contain harmonic, rhythmic or accentual surprises somewhere.
This collection contains 349 songs recorded at 91 separate recording sessions between October 11, 1942 and March 23, 1961. Two-thirds of the selection on this 18-disc anthology have either been out out of print since the 1940s, or have never been released in any form. Cole's 1956 album, AFTER MIDNIGHT, is included here in its entirety, along with all of the trio's more familiar songs. Included in this set are 104 tracks previously unavailable on US LPs. Sixty-six of the tracks were previously unavailable anywhere. Fifty-six rare Capitol radio transcriptions appear commercially for the first time. Dozens of the tracks appear at the correct speed for the first time ever.
Harry Nilsson spent almost all of his rich, idiosyncratic, sometimes maddening career at RCA Records, releasing his bravura debut, Pandemonium Shadow Show, in 1967 and fading into the sunset with 1977's Knnillssonn. During those ten years, he released 14 albums and left behind a bunch of stray tracks, almost all of which are gathered on Legacy's massive and wonderful 2013 box The RCA Albums Collection…
Marilyn Manson was really up to something, concocting a formula that combined the sounds of Kurt Cobain with the Love It to Death/Killer phase of Alice Cooper. God Lives Underwater understand that and work the concept to good effect though they don't take many of the interesting ideas presented on Up off the Floor as far as the potential demands.
At first listen, The Practice of Love, Jenny Hval’s seventh full-length album, unspools with an almost deceptive ease. Across eight tracks, filled with arpeggiated synth washes and the kind of lilting beats that might have drifted, loose and unmoored, from some forgotten mid-’90s trance single, The Practice of Love feels, first and foremost, compellingly humane. Given the horror and viscera of her previous album, 2016’s Blood Bitch, The Practice of Love is almost subversive in its gentleness—a deep dive into what it means to grow older, to question one’s relationship to the earth and one’s self, and to hold a magnifying glass over the notion of what intimacy can mean. As Hval describes it, the album charts its own particular geography, a landscape in which multiple voices engage and disperse, and the question of connectedness—or lack thereof—hangs suspended in the architecture of every song. It is an album about “seeing things from above—almost like looking straight down into the ground, all of these vibrant forest landscapes, the type of nature where you might find a porn magazine at a certain place in the woods and everyone would know where it was, but even that would just become rotting paper, eventually melting into the ground.”
Billy Joel is a New York icon who became one of the most successful singer/songwriters of the late 20th century. He first rose to success in the mid-'70s with a melodic piano-led pop sound that merged Beatlesque hooks with elements of rock, jazz, Tin Pan Alley, and even Broadway.