Dr. John : Tribal Dr. John revived his “Night Tripper” persona at the 2006 Bonnaroo Festival. In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, his sense of urgency about Louisiana and the Gulf region allowed his spiritual persona free rein in concerts and interviews for the first time since the ’70s. He wore the garb on-stage and brought his entire history as a musician to bear in his performances. He’s become a full-fledged activist who does his part educating the world about his geography’s unique significance as a musical, spiritual, and environmental territory. As an album, Tribal, employs some of the spookier elements of Dr. John’s earlier recordings like Gris Gris, but it’s all rooted in blues, funk, folk traditions, and R&B that have been at the heart of his musical career since the ’50s. His crack unit, the Lower 911, are augmented by a number of guests, including a horn section led and arranged by saxophonist Alonzo Bowens, alto saxophonist Donald Harrison (himself a Mardis Gras Indian Chief), a string section arranged by Wardell Quezergue, Derek Trucks on select cuts, and the fine backing vocal trio of Elaine Foster, Lisa Foster, and Erica Falls throughout. Dr. John wrote or co-wrote 13 of the set’s 14 cuts (there are 16 on the vinyl version). Musically “Jinky Jinx,” the title track with its Oglala Lakota Indian chant intro, and the guitar- and percussion-driven voodoo blues on “Manoovas” (with Trucks) hearken back to the ’70s with better production. But current modes, such as slippery R&B and jazz, are fused on the album-opener “Feel Good Music,” and a shimmering old-school New Orleans intro gives way to a laid-back yet fingerpopping political R&B in Allen Toussaint’s “Big Gap.” There’s Southern-fried groove in “Change of Heart,” (one of three songs co-written with the late Bobby Charles, whose memory the album is dedicated to; “Podnah” is another, but it’s a nasty blues). A gritty, late-night funk saturates “When I’m Right, I’m Wrong” and “What’s wit Dat” (a scathing admonition to eat healthy). He also lays down the socio-political second line in “Them,” and the angry, jazz-fueled swagger in “Only in Amerika.” Dr. John’s piano and organ, which are everywhere present, highlight the beautiful closer “A Place in the Sun.” When taken as a whole, Tribal is a revelation: it traces Dr. John’s entire past, and integrates everything into a whole that is familiar yet points forward. Thematically, Tribal meditates on the state of the country and the world; it exhorts listeners to quit bullshitting one another because our mutual survival depends upon it. This isn’t just a logical follow-up to 2008’s excellent The City That Care Forgot, it’s close to a career-defining summation from one of America’s most important musicians., ~ Rovi All Music Guide

Los Lobos : Tin Can Trust Over the course of a recording career that’s poised to enter its fourth decade, Los Lobos are a band who have never shied away from writing about folks struggling to make their way through hard times, and one might argue that in the wake of America’s financial meltdown and a recession that won’t seem to go away, the rest of the United States is starting to catch up with the East L.A. barrios that have been the locale of the group’s most powerful songs. The title cut on Tin Can Trust, Los Lobos’ 14th studio album, collects the thoughts of a guy trying to make ends meet collecting cans and bottles, whose wardrobe consists of “a dime store shirt/and two bucks for a good pair,” and it’s a song that carries more weight than usual in a time where seemingly everyone is having trouble getting by. But later in the same number, the same character tells the woman he loves “I can give you one thing a man can bring,” and it’s hardly the only moment on Tin Cast Trust where this band of survivors has something to say about simple determination in the face of bad luck. On Tin Can Trust, some folks are trying to repair broken love affairs, others are hoping to outrun hatred and bad luck, and a few are struggling to sort out just where their culture and their history have left them. The musicians in Los Lobos are too smart to think they have the answers to all the questions they pose, but they’re clever enough to know that sometimes giving them a good, long ponder can help, and on songs like “Burn It Down,” “Jupiter or the Moon,” and “27 Spanishes” they offer some powerful food for thought that happens to have some great music attached. Tin Can Trust captures this exceptional band in truly great form — the guitar interplay between David Hidalgo and Cesar Rosas shows both men are playing at the top of their game, bassist Conrad Lozano and drummer Louie Perez are a strong and soulful rhythm section, and Steve Berlin’s keys and sax add just the right coloring. These performances are low on ego-driven flash but high on exciting, emotionally compelling music, and as Los Lobos try to sort out what’s happening in their neighborhood (and our nation), they still find some room to celebrate a good, sunny day (“On Main Street”) and the power of a righteous guitar rave-up (“Do the Murray”). On Tin Cast Trust, Los Lobos prove that tough times don’t last, but tough music does, and those are words we can all live by. ~ Mark Deming, Rovi

Katie Melua : The House Vocalist Katie Melua’s 2010 album The House is an atmospheric, romantic, and sometimes eerie album of arty adult alternative pop. While longtime producer Mike Batt is on board here, journeyman electronic producer William Orbit takes the main production helm. The result is Melua’s most mature album to date and one that will certainly draw well-earned comparisons to such art pop icons as Kate Bush and Tori Amos. And while immaculately produced tracks like “The Flood” and “Twisted” do evince Bush’s literate and operatic sound, they also bring to mind the grand, retro-leaning approach of guitarist/singer-songwriter Richard Hawley. Which isn’t to say that Melua hews closely to any kind of ’60s pop; on the contrary, these are clearly contemporary songs with a modern point of view. But there is a bit of moody Nick Drake-style guitar work and the way the songs build and swoop, often with symphonic backing (the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra appears here), is very much in keeping with Hawley’s particular Brill Building meets coastal British town grandeur. In that sense, the album is a bit of a grower and has an overall soft, reflective quality. As with most of The House, songs like the folk-inflected opener “I’d Love to Kill You,” the Eastern-tinged “The Flood,” and the yearning and pretty “Red Balloons,” take time to build and grab you slowly with deft, biting lyrics and Melua’s lilting, burnished vocals. ~ Matt Collar, Rovi

Gov’t Mule : Mulennium Gov’t Mule’s live New Year’s Eve shows are the high point of the year for fans: they usually last for four hours-plus and include loads of guests who help to create some inspiring musical moments. Two early Mule live releases were also recorded on NYE — Live at Roseland Ballroom (1995) and Live with a Little Help from Our Friends, recorded at Atlanta’s Roxy in 1998. The triple-disc Mulennium was recorded December 31, 1999, also at the Roxy, but has remained in the can until now. In its way, it is the definitive document of the original Gov’t Mule power trio: guitarist/vocalist Warren Haynes, bassist Allen Woody (this was his last NYE show with the band, he died eight months later), and drummer Matt Abts. Disc one begins with a cheesy intro by an unnamed announcer who cops directly from Brother JC Crawford’s off the MC5’s debut Kick Out the Jams. This is literally the only thing here that feels wrong. Disc one covers the concert up to midnight. It includes seven Mule originals, among them are truly burning versions of “Bad Little Doggie,” “Life Before Insanity,” and “Blind Man in the Dark.” But this is a preliminary: after midnight comes the first surprise: a stellar — and fitting — cover of King Crimson’s “21st Century Schizoid Man,” followed by the Who’s “We’re Not Gonna Take It,” and Led Zep’s “Dazed and Confused.” Disc two begins with a six-song blues set with legend Little Milton on vocals; highlights here are “When the Blue Comes Knockin’,” “I Can’t Quit You Baby,” and “It Hurts Me Too.” Before the disc closes, newly minted Black Crowes‘ guitarist Audley Freed joins the band on-stage for a cover of Alice Cooper’s “Is It My Body” and Jimi Hendrix’s “The Power of Soul.” Freed remains for much of the rest of the show. Guitarist Johnny Mosier and pedal steel boss Mark Van Allen (the latter two members of Blueground Undergrass) join Mule and Freed on the encores. The final disc in the package is highlighted by killer readings of the Beatles‘ “Helter Skelter,” the Black Crowes‘ “Sometimes Salvation,” and Humble Pie’s “Thirty Days in the Hole” (that morphs into “I Don’t Need No Doctor”). Guitarist Johnny Mosier and pedal steel player Mark Van Allen (the latter two, members of Blueground Undergrass) join Mule and Freed on the encores: Tony Joe White’s “Out Of the Rain,” Bob Dylan’s “I Shall Be Released” and Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Simple Man.” Ultimately, Mulennium is a truly special Gov’t Mule gig. Though it was never meant to be released, the remixed sound is full and present, and showcases the original band at its raw, hot, improvisationally spontaneous best. ~ Thom Jurek, Rovi

Lady Gaga : The Remix Originally released in Japan and then spreading out to other territories as her international star rose, Remix is precisely what it claims: remixed versions of Lady Gaga hits. The U.S. version cuts the international edition from 17 tracks to a clean, concise ten cuts, concentrating on the best remixes, including mixes from Richard Vission and Stuart Price. That this is not an essential addition to Gaga’s canon goes without saying — it is not as sharp and cohesive as You Can Dance, its patchwork nature too evident — but there’s glitz and glamour to enjoy here, perhaps not in as great a number as Fame or Fame Monster, but enough to please those who have worn out either already. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, Rovi

Arcade Fire : The Suburbs Montreal’s Arcade Fire successfully avoided the sophomore slump with 2007’s apocalyptic Neon Bible. Heavier and more uncertain than their near perfect, darkly optimistic 2004 debut, the album aimed for the nosebleed section and left a red mess. Having already fled the cold comforts of suburbia on Funeral and suffered beneath the weight of the world on Neon Bible, it seems fitting that a band once so consumed with spiritual and social middle-class fury, should find peace “under the overpass in the parking lot.” If nostalgia is just pain recalled, repaired, and resold, then The Suburbs is its sales manual. Inspired by brothers Win and William Butler’s suburban Houston, TX upbringing, the 16-track record plays out like a long lost summer weekend, with the jaunty but melancholy KinksBowie-esque title cut serving as its bookends. Meticulously paced and conservatively grand, fans looking for the instant gratification of past anthems like “Wake Up” or “Intervention” will find themselves reluctantly defending The Suburbs upon first listen, but anyone who remembers excitedly jumping into a friend’s car on a sleepy Friday night armed with heartache, hope, and no agenda knows that patience is key. Multiple spins reveal a work that’s as triumphant and soul-slamming as it is sentimental and mature. At its most spirited, like on “Empty Room,” “Rococo,” “City with No Children,” “Half Light II (No Celebration),” “We Used to Wait,” and the glorious Régine Chassagne-led “Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains),” the latter of which threatens to break into Blondie’s “Heart of Glass” at any moment, Arcade Fire makes the suburbs feel positively electric. Quieter moments reveal a changing of the guard, as Win trades in the Springsteen-isms of Neon Bible for Neil Young on “Wasted Hours,” and the ornate rage of Funeral for the simplicity of a line like “Let’s go for a drive and see the town tonight/There’s nothing do, but I don’t mind when I’m with you,” from album highlight “Suburban War.” The Suburbs feels like Richard Linklater’s Dazed & Confused for the Y generation. It’s serious without being preachy, cynical without dissolving into apathy, and whimsical enough to keep both sentiments in line, and of all of their records, it may be the one that ages so well. ~ James Christopher Monger, Rovi

Seu Jorge : Almaz By 2010, the name Seu Jorge was known to those besides Brazilian music cognoscenti, thanks mainly to his role in Wes Anderson’s Life Aquatic, in which he sang covers, in Portuguese, of classic David Bowie songs. And Jorge also performs covers here with his band Almaz, on the self-titled record released by funk and soul stalwarts Now-Again. This is surely not coincidental: interpreting other artists’ work, in fact, may be what Jorge is best suited for. His voice, nuanced and capable, is a powerful instrument — as adept at moving lightly and gently (like in the very Caetano Veloso-esque take of the rather obscure “Saudosa Bahia” by Noriel Vilela) as it is powering through Cain & Abel’s “Girl You Move Me,” which is full of heavy guitar lines and guttural wails, and is impossible not to listen to repeatedly, until you’re fully dragged into it yourself. Credit the band, too, for providing Jorge with the platform on which to truly excel: comprised of drummer Puppilo and guitarist Lucio Maia from Manguebeat band Nação Zumbi, and bassist (and famed film composer) Antonio Pinto, Almaz is the best group he’s ever worked with. On Paula Lima’s languid “Cirandar,” for example, Jorge’s cadence and vocal control give the song a bit more buoyancy, which balances well with Maia’s Spaghetti Western-inspired guitar lines and Puppilo’s steady beat. There’s a spaciousness to the piece that moves it away from a mere cover toward true artistic expression, and a large part of this is probably thanks to Pinto, whose work as a film composer surely informs the band’s interpretations and gives them an affecting expansiveness. This is best felt, perhaps, at the end, in the cover of Nelson Cavaquinho’s “Juizo Final,” or “Last Judgment,” a majestic rendition that fuses soul, psychedelia, and samba, along with plenty of reverb and a healthy sense of the unknown. Unfortunately, not every song is quite as successful; Michael Jackson’s “Rock with You” suffers a bit from the accent and an overly mellow staging (though that same approach works well in Roy Ayers’ oft-covered “Everybody Loves the Sunshine,” perhaps because the sultriness that Jorge explores there already existed), and the band’s version of Tim Maia’s “Cristina” isn’t particularly inventive (Jorge clearly owes a lot to Maia, as well as to Jorge Ben, to whom he also pays tribute on “Errare Humanum Est”), but as a whole, as a statement of what Brazilian music was and is, Seu Jorge and Almaz is irrevocable proof that Jorge’s ascent into the mainstream was no mistake. And it’s something everyone should hear. ~ Marisa Brown, Rovi

Big Head Todd & The Monsters : Rocksteady Don’t be threatened by the cover of Howlin’ Wolf’s “Smokestack Lightning” on Rocksteady: Big Head Todd & the Monsters have not abandoned their laid-back roots rock and gone all dirty blues, they’re continuing to take things nice and easy. To put too fine a point on it, their rock remains steady, offering few surprises, but their light touch is often ingratiating. Sure, when they stretch they can stumble slightly — it’s unclear what the intent of “Muhammad Ali” is, the reggae-influenced numbers smack too much of a dorm room singalong, and every once and a while a ballad drags — but they have a way with rootsy midtempo pop, like the sweet “Beautiful,” they’re served well by the soulful horn of “I Hate It When You’re Gone,” they do an admirable, pleading version of “Beast of Burden” and, yes, the dose of heavier blues on “Smokestack Lightning” serves them well enough to suggest that they should let a little more grit into their smooth surroundings next time around. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, Rovi

Sheryl Crow : 100 Miles from Memphis The title and sound of 100 Miles from Memphis can’t help but recall Dusty in Memphis, Dusty Springfield’s 1969 blue-eyed soul classic, but Sheryl Crow’s 2010 album isn’t quite a strict homage to Dusty. Crow draws from many of the same ‘60s sources as Springfield, but she also dabbles in reggae (thanks to the chunky guitar of Keith Richards on “Eye to Eye”) and digs into the cool, seductive ‘70s groove of Hi, channeling Al Green on a sleek reworking of Terence Trent D’Arby’s “Sign Your Name,” complete with support from Justin Timberlake. Add to this the extended funk coda of “Roses and Moonlight,” the hippie singalong of “Long Road Home” and one of Crow’s signature good-time social-conscious raising anthems in “Say What You Want” and 100 Miles from Memphis boasts a considerably more expansive palette than Dusty in Memphis, yet it’s all bonded by its smooth, soulful groove due in part to the co-production from Doyle Bramhall II and Justin Stanley. This pair gives 100 Miles a sound that’s recognizably Southern yet has a distinctly sunny vibe not too for removed from Crow’s sun-kissed debut Tuesday Night Music Club, of which this shares a similar spirit, if not sensibility. Tuesday Night Music Club is loose and open where this is focused and sustained, maintaining its charming, relaxed groove from beginning to end. There’s an ease to this record that’s not often heard on Sheryl Crow’s albums and its light touch is thoroughly appealing. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, Rovi

Zero 7 : The Record Record summarizes the first four albums from U.K. chillout mainstays Zero 7: Simple Things (2001), When It Falls (2004), The Garden (2006), and Yeah Ghost (2009). Released less than a year after the fourth album, some of its selections are debatable, but those dismayed with the absence of “Likufanele” or “Medicine Man” likely have the parent albums anyway. Most importantly, this disc does gather the duo’s most-known material, including “Destiny,” “Distractions,” “In the Waiting Line,” and “Polaris,” all of which were licensed for several compilations and/or used in advertisements. There’s an emphasis on the debut, with seven of its tracks included here, while When It Falls gets a short shrift, represented only twice. ~ Andy Kellman, Rovi