Karl Jenkins' The Armed Man: A Mass for Peace is a departure from his Adiemus recordings into the more conventional territory of large-scale choral and orchestral writing, though his customary passion for mixing languages remains in full force with texts in English, Latin and French. Jenkins has said that The Armed Man was inspired by the "L'Homme armé" masses which were popular in the 16th century, and he makes this debt clear with passages written in a neat pastiche of Palestrina-style renaissance polyphony. There are also echoes of earlier and later styles, including plainchant, medieval ballads, James Barry-style horn writing (think Goldfinger) and even a direct quote from Rigoletto (the choir imitates wind sounds at one point as in Act 3 of Verdi's opera). The smorgasbord manages to hold together, probably because Jenkins' obvious sincerity shines through every note. The London Philharmonic Orchestra plays beautifully, and treble Tristan Hambleton performs his solo with ethereal clarity. The National Youth Choir sings with vigour and accuracy, even if the young sopranos sound a little thin at the top of their range. If you liked the soundtrack to The Mission, this should press all the right buttons. -Warwick Thompson.

In Come Away with Me, it is not just the timbre of Norah Jones's voice that is mature beyond her years. Her assured phrasing and precise time are more often found in older singers as well. She is instantly recognisable, blending intimations of Billie Holiday and Nina Simone without sounding like anyone but herself. Any way you slice it, she is a singer to be reckoned with. Her readings of the Hank Williams classic, "Cold Cold Heart" and Hoagy Carmichael's "The Nearness of You" are worth the price of the CD. Jones's own material, while not bad, pales a bit next to masterpieces such as these. They might have fared better had she and producer Arif Mardin opted for some livelier arrangements, taking better advantage of brilliant sidemen such as Bill Frisell, Kevin Breit and Brian Blade; or if the tunes had simply been given less laconic performances. Jones has all the tools; what will come with experience, and some careful listening to artists like JJ Cale and Shirley Horn, is the knack of remaining low-key without being sleepy-sometimes less is not, in fact, more. -Michael Ross.

It starts with a sunrise, it ends with "one star shining", and in between Closing Time contains an honest year's worth (1973, to be exact) of sweet, melodic, vintage Tom Waits-minus some of the vocal growl and thematic grit of his later stuff (but you can see it coming). Waltzes, lullabies, blues, jazz, you name it. Driving songs and drinking songs, even an honest to gosh country tune: "Rosie. " There are torchers ("Lonely"), scorchers ("Ice Cream Man"), and back- porch senior citizen love songs ("Martha"): "Those were the days of roses/Poetry and prose, and/Martha, all I had was you and all you had was me. " Other standouts are "I Hope That I Don't Fall in Love with You" (guess what-he does!) and "Grapefruit Moon", in which Waits croons: "Every time I hear that melody, something breaks inside. " Hang on to your hearts and hats, folks. -Dan Leone.

Blending the best aspects of pop, punk and grunge, Weezer's eponymous debut came as a much needed bit of relief to the too-serious American indie scene of 1994. Produced (and strongly influenced) by former Cars frontman Ric Ocasek, Weezer blends churning, power-pop guitars with Beach Boys harmonies and the awkward lyrics of singer/songwriter Rivers Cuomo. On standout tracks such as "In The Garage" and "The World Has Turned And Left Me Here", Weezer introduced the wider world to the then-new concept of Geek Rock. However, it was "Buddy Holly"-and its corresponding Spike Jonze-directed video-that propelled this album into the charts. Unfortunately, this song also branded them as nothing more than another novelty act, an unfair fate for an album-and band- that's since had so much influence. -Robert Burrow.

At the start of the 1970s, when the music world was ruled by grim longhairs and wafflesome prog rockers, Roxy Music appeared to have beamed in from another planet. Impossibly alien and exotic, they bucked contemporary trends by being kitsch, avant-garde, experimental and yet unashamedly pop. Bryan Ferry was the louche, sensual front man, Brian Eno threw his deconstructionist spanner in the works and they played songs that sounded like demented, sexy logarithms. After Eno left in 1973, frustrated that Ferry was marginalising his input, Roxy became a different beast entirely, developing a suave, sophisticated pop-soul that abandoned the art-rock niche to embrace a wider audience. This lush Best Of compilation, released to accompany their reunion tour (minus Eno), captures both sides of Roxy and, true to the subversive spirit that informed their early years, does so in reverse order. This anti-chronology means they open with the languid, supper-club croon of 1980s hits "Avalon" and "More Than This", plus the beauteous cover of John Lennon's "Jealous Guy", then peel back the years through mid-period gems like "Dance Away" and "Love Is The Drug" before closing with the hyperventilating, superbly twisted bubblegum of "Pyjamarama" and "Virginia Plain". A bonkers track-listing then but an essential souvenir of a band-and a talent-in a million. -Ian Gittins.

Pretzel Logic marked a transition for Steely Dan from a studio-bound rock band producing hits such as "Reeling in the Years" and "Do It Again" to a looser constellation of studio musicians under the direction of songwriters Walter Becker and Donald Fagen. That later version of Steely Dan would paint its masterpiece with Aja. Pretzel Logic is much more playful than that, and also jazzier than the albums that came before. The jazz intentions are made perfectly clear on "Parker's Band", a swinging tribute to bebop titan Charlie Parker, and a crafty cover of Duke Ellington's "East St. Louis Toodle-oo". The lyrics displayed their own twisted logic, presenting a tumble of images in search of a unifying principle that most often remained elusive. Steely Dan was that rare act that could work such purposeful obscurity to its advantage: "Rikki Don't Lose That Number" was a top-five hit even though nobody had a clue as to what it was about. Or, perhaps, everybody had a clue, but nobody could agree. -John Milward.

Nothing changes folks like babies and war, and since the release of their last album, 2002's Home, the Dixie Chicks have been forever altered by both. If that album showcased the trio as precocious young adults, Taking the Long Way finds them sobered and matured, and in a grown-up state of mind. Produced by the celebrated Rick Rubin (Johnny Cash, Red Hot Chili Peppers), who saw the Chicks as "a great rock act making a country album, not a country act making a rock album," their new record impresses both as beautiful sonic tapestry (peppered with myriad Beatlesque hallmarks) and forthright yet vulnerable portrait of three women shaken by the personal and political events of the past few years. As they make clear in the defiant "Not Ready to Make Nice," they still smart over the backlash from their 2003 Bushwhacking. But as they assert on the equally autobiographical "The Long Way Around," they could never "kiss all the asses that they told me to" and just follow others aimlessly-and silently-through life. This means that the Chicks are simultaneously prideful and scornful of celebrity ("Everybody Knows"), and that as new mothers they increasingly treasure the refuge they find in life with their families, out of the spotlight ("Easy Silence," "Lullaby," "Baby Hold On"). The push and pull of both passions drive this record, which also touches on the personal issues of infertility (with which sisters Martie Maguire and Emily Robison both dealt) and Alzheimer's (from which Natalie Maines's grandmother suffers). The trio crafted all 14 cuts with the help of such writers as Sheryl Crow, Gary Louris, Mike Campbell, and Keb' Mo', laying out their lives as honestly and intimately as they might in their diaries. For that reason, on first listen, Taking the Long Way seems too somber-in need of a bit of levity and more than a couple of uptempo songs (like the sexy, '60s-flavored "I Like It") to resonate for the long haul. It also seems to lack the writing quality that Darrell Scott, Patty Griffin, and Bruce Robison brought to Home. [+]

Early word on the sixth album from Weezer-and their third self-titled record, although fans, sensibly, are referring to it as 'The Red Album'-is that this is their 'experimental' record. Luckily, Rivers Cuomo isn't interested in penning his own jazz odyssey; for him, experimental is just finding cunning ways to nuance Weezer's stock-in-trade-crunchy, candy-sweet guitars and vocal harmonies-with new pop tricks. The sardonic lyric of "Pork and Beans" hints at a new direction: "Timabaland knows the way to reach the top of the charts," Cuomo sings, "maybe if I work with him I can perfect the art". Actually, Timbaland's not on board, but producer Jacknife Lee brings a variety of drum machines and electronics, and Weezer rise to the challenge with some generally inspired messing around. "The Greatest Man That Ever Lived (Variations on a Shaker Theme)" sees Cuomo adopt a gangsta rap slur over screaming sirens, while elsewhere, the other three Weezer members take a turn at the microphone. But it's Cuomo's songs that are the winners-notably "Heart Songs", a tribute to the songs that "never feel wrong" that swoops from melodic schmaltz to grunge scuzz with a deft invocation of Nirvana. Skip to the bonus tracks, meanwhile, for a great cover of "The Weight" that takes The Band's original and drenches it in chundering guitars. -Louis Pattison.