This disc takes us on a whistle-stop tour of English keyboard music in the late 16th and early 17th centuries. The fantasy, pavan and galliard were among the most popular forms of their day. The latter two dance movements were often paired together, and sometimes linked thematically. The pavan, wrote Thomas Morley, was ‘a kind of staide musicke, ordained for grave dauncing’, while the briefer galliard serviced ‘a lighter and more stirring kinde of dauncing’. The most attractive examples here are Bull’s charming John Lumley’s Pavan and Galliard and Byrd’s Pavan ‘Ph. Tregian’ & Galliard, its regal pavan among the disc’s high spots.

Nathan Milstein plays these magnificent pieces with patrician elegance, easily overcoming their all-but-insurmountable difficulties. His burnished tone has a warmth like that of mahogany, and his fine fingerwork and flawless bowing make for an assured connection of ideas. In the Chaconne to the D minor Partita–which can make even a very good violinist sound overmatched and inept–he zeroes in with the sort of concentration one usually sees in chess champions. Here, as elsewhere in the cycle, Milstein projects not only the music's emotive force, but Bach's grand architecture as well.

This delightful pair of CDs contains music from three collections published in northern Italy between 1610 and 1641. The earliest is a volume published in Milan in 1610, Concerti ecclesiastici, which is made up of music by the two brothers Giovanni Paolo Cima and Andrea Cima and contains the ‘Sei sonate, per instrumenti à due, tre e quarto’ recorded here; the next, chronologically speaking, is the Madrigali, libro II of Francesco Turini, published in Venice in 1624, from which six sonatas for two violins and continuo have here been extracted. The last is another Venetian publication (of 1641) the Sonate a 12.2.3. per il violono or cornetto, fagotto, chitarone, violoncino o simile altro istrumento of Giovanni Battista Fontana.

Much like Deep Forest's debut album, Boheme is a combination of club music and worldbeat. While the album is certainly danceable, it works better as trance-inducing mood music, although it isn't quite as consistent as the debut.
Frontrunners of chillout, French electronic duo Deep Forest fused traditional indigenous music from around the world with relaxed ambient beats, creating a new breed of captivating electronic pop that found worldwide success. Their approach was best typified by their 1993 smash "Sweet Lullaby," which brought together the group's original electronic sounds with a haunting traditional lullaby from the Solomon Islands. The group repeated its multi-platinum formula on a host of albums throughout the '90s.

The Jam's Setting Sons was originally planned as a concept album about three childhood friends who, upon meeting after some time apart, discover the different directions in which they've grown apart. Only about half of the songs ended up following the concept due to a rushed recording schedule, but where they do, Paul Weller vividly depicts British life, male relationships, and coming to terms with entry into adulthood. Weller's observations of society are more pointed and pessimistic than ever, but at the same time, he's employed stronger melodies with a slicker production and comparatively fuller arrangements, even using heavy orchestration for a reworked version of Bruce Foxton's "Smithers-Jones." Setting Sons often reaches brilliance and stands among the Jam's best albums.

This album by the Rice Miller fellow who called himself Sonny Boy Williamson - in other words, the Mississippi harmonica player rather than the Tennessee harmonica player - may have been one of the best volumes in the grim-looking series of single-album reissues and collections Chess put out before switching to double-album sets. Those who enjoy both blues and the film noir style will enjoy the graphic design of these albums, which often sported singularly unattractive photography of the artists. The grainy, out-of-focus picture of Williamson that fills this front cover is no exception; in fact, in a way, it established the rule. It isn't that he looks mean, he just looks like he could care less. Such a look of indifference has perhaps never before been captured by the camera. It could easily have been taken during some of the discussion that occurs between the artist and his producers during the recording of a song called "Little Village"…

The combination of organist Jimmy Smith teamed with Oliver Nelson's big band featuring Nelson and Claus Ogerman's arrangements has arguably yielded mixed results. "Walk on the Wild Side" is probably the most acclaimed and potent of the pairings, while "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" produces more questions than answers. The music tends to be corny and overly dramatic, based in soul-jazz and boogaloo; it's dated even for this time period (1964) and a bit bland. Disparate elements clash rather than meld, the title track and "Slaughter on Tenth Avenue" being perfect examples. If you can get beyond the hokey 007 theatrics, patriotic splashes, and sleigh bells, you do hear Smith jamming. Typical repeated two-note accents heard from the big band behind Smith do not urge him upwards - during "Pts. 1 & 2" of the title track, this specific element identifies and bogs down the piece - but the quicker second segment is a better…