Steven Sowell

In January of 2006, the remains of Joyce Carol Vincent, aged 38, were discovered in her London flat. She died in her apartment in late 2003, surrounded by undelivered Christmas presents. She was described as outgoing, attractive, and ambitious by neighbors, friends, and family, but somehow wasn't missed. This chilling story made headlines in Great Britain, and the mysterious person behind it moved Steven Wilson to create this fictional concept album (small "c"). He doesn't adhere to story's grim details. Instead he writes from the perspective of a living woman who is, due to choice, circumstance, or both, alone and ultimately unknowable. Engineered by Steve Orchard, and produced and mixed by Wilson, the album is sonically rich and detailed. It's an immense, imaginative landscape that melds classic album rock, sophisticated '80s pop, metal, prog, and electronica in expertly crafted songs…

In January of 2006, the remains of Joyce Carol Vincent, aged 38, were discovered in her London flat. She died in her apartment in late 2003, surrounded by undelivered Christmas presents. She was described as outgoing, attractive, and ambitious by neighbors, friends, and family, but somehow wasn't missed. This chilling story made headlines in Great Britain, and the mysterious person behind it moved Steven Wilson to create this fictional concept album (small "c"). He doesn't adhere to story's grim details. Instead he writes from the perspective of a living woman who is, due to choice, circumstance, or both, alone and ultimately unknowable. Engineered by Steve Orchard, and produced and mixed by Wilson, the album is sonically rich and detailed. It's an immense, imaginative landscape that melds classic album rock, sophisticated '80s pop, metal, prog, and electronica in expertly crafted songs…

What the world needs more of is intelligently planned, stupendously played, and brilliantly recorded collections like this one. These two discs contain all the piano works of Michael Tippett, works that come from every period of the composer's very long life except his very last. It includes the youthful, tuneful Piano Sonata No. 1 written between 1936 and 1938 and revised in 1941, the massive Fantasia on a Theme of Handel from 1941, the exuberant Piano Concerto from 1955, the experimental Piano Sonata No. 2, the gnomic almost Beethovenian Piano Sonata No. 3 from 1973, and the gnarly post-Beethovenian Piano Sonata No. 4. It features a bravura performance by pianist Steven Osborne that makes the best case for all the music, no matter how outré or recherché its harmonic proclivities or rhythmic audacities.

Like Mick Jagger before him, Steven Tyler itched to launch a solo career, but where Mick struck while the iron was relatively hot – 20 years after "Satisfaction," true, yet the Rolling Stones still packed arenas – the Aerosmith singer took the better part of a decade to figure out what he wanted to do on his own. Stumbling through a starring gig on American Idol and an accompanying flop single that led to an awkward 2012 reunion with Aerosmith, Tyler finally resurfaced as a country singer – a surprise, because the closest he ever came to country was the Desmond Child co-write "What It Takes," a power ballad that provides a good touchstone for 2016's We're All Somebody from Somewhere.

Between 2003 and 2010, Steven Wilson (Porcupine Tree) released six CD singles, each featuring a cover version backed with a new original song. Titled, appropriately enough, Cover I through Cover VI, the first of these singles was significant because it was the first release issued under his own name. All of these were almost ridiculously limited. The titles were all compiled before - when Cover VI was released, the other singles were included in a lavishly designed box - but this marks the first time all 12 tracks have been widely available. The music presented here is performed completely solo save for chamber and orchestral elements on some tracks that were added on later, and showcases a different, more intimate side of Wilson…

Martha Argerich’s Ravel G major was for so long a reference recording that it’s easy to forget how idiosyncratic it actually is. I wouldn’t actually blame anyone who found it too garish in its colouring, with its volatility giving diminishing returns and its rubato too predictably appassionato for a sensibility as dapper as Ravel’s. Such a person might well find exactly what they want in Steven Osborne’s account, which is masterful in its own way but essentially self-effacing.