Abbey Lincoln is not one of the best known of jazz singers. Whereas Ella, Billie and Sarah find their way into most record collections. Abbey remains obscure. Perhaps this is due to the political nature of many of her songs or the more experimental nature of her later work, but whatever the reason it is grossly unfair on a great talent. Hers is a voice gravely and emotive like Billie Holiday's and when she is singing you know she means every single word. Abbey Is Blue is one of the truly great jazz albums, featuring a host of class musicians (Stanley Turrentine, Kenny Dorham and Max Roach to name but three). The haunting pained "Afro-Blue" starts the set, which includes her own aching "Let Up" and Oscar Brown's lament to black ghetto life, "Brother, Where Are You?" This is an album of honesty, which shows that songs with a serious content don't have to be boring, but can be truly lovely to hear. Throughout the set the songs are top quality, the musicians ditto and Abbey's voice is all but perfect. -Phil Brett.

Ray Charles still has a marvellous voice, equal parts sweat and moonbeams. Nonetheless, it seems the legendary genius of soul didn't apply all his brainpower to Thanks For Bringing Love Around Again. It may, in part, be a matter of taste. The sampled horns and strings in tunes like "Can You Love Me Like That" and "How Did You Feel the Morning After" pale next to the terrific arrangements for organic instruments that have long been a cornerstone of his reputation. And too many of these numbers, from the blithe "I Love You More Than I Ever Have" to the ballad "Ensemble," depend so much on female supporting vocalists that Charles sometimes seems like a guest on his own album. Worse, his new songs are often unrealised-mere fragmentary notions of lyrics over grooves. For much of this CD he has adopted the programmed beats and clichéd electronic keyboard lines that are common to the Britney Spears and Backstreet Boys' world of contemporary pop. It's one thing for a classic artist to attempt to reinvent himself, another to dilute his art for the charts, which he hardly has a prayer of reaching, given the state of today's music biz and its negative attitude toward the pioneers of virtually any longstanding musical style. That said, not everything here is disappointing. The title ballad uses Charles' relaxed vocal delivery to full advantage, and the funkier "New Orleans" shows off his barroom piano chops. [+]

Birdland quite possibly qualifies for entry into the Guinness Book of Records under the "longest ever gap between studio albums" category. After all, when blues/pop legends the Yardbirds last released a proper record (Little Games, a variable quality affair featuring some up-and-coming guitar chancer called Jimmy Page), man had yet to visit the moon, Tony Blair was a 14-year-old schoolboy and the White Stripes (huge Yardbirds devotees if their recent live bash with Jeff Beck was anything to go by) were what you saw on the road at zebra crossings. Of course, nothing the Yardbirds could possibly do now will ever attain the dizzy, head-swimming heights of their psychedelic 1960s heyday, but Birdland-with some dignity-is certainly not the sound of washed-up, pensionable ex-rock stars sucking their stomachs in and combing their hair forwards. Reconvening around a nucleus of original members Chris Dreja and Jim McCarty, the latterday line-up also boasts the pedigree of former Dr Feelgood guitarist and co-writer John "Gypie" Mayo as well as guest appearances aplenty from such ostentatious fretboard manipulators as Brian May, Steve Vai, Joe Satriani, Slash and even Jeff Beck himself. And while dismissing the production work on their classic 1960s hits as "crap" may well be a poor excuse for offering these newly buffed-up re-recordings of their greatest moments ("Shapes of Things", "For Your Love", etc), at least accusations of laurel-resting are convincingly countered by the inclusion of some stimulating new material. For example, "The Mystery of Being"-worryingly described by the band as "Afghan psychedelia"-is just the sort of Arabian rock illusion previously conjured up by Ritchie Blackmore's Rainbow, the tribute to Keith Relf on "An Original Man" is worthy of the Byrds at their notoriously brotherly prime and "Crying Out for Love" is mature blues with heart, soul and sensitivity. Frankly, one could only wish the Rolling Stones' songwriting skills were still as sharp. -Kevin Maidment.

Jimmie Vaughan is a master of mood, but not ostentatiously so; he's too slick for that. You think you're getting a slab of solid electric blues with Do You Get the Blues?-and as a matter of fact, you are-but this particular slab cuts all the way to the bone. It begins innocuously enough, with a relaxed instrumental piece set to a shuffle beat, until you realize the track's called "Dirty Girl". Then things slow down even more for "Out of the Shadows", and this one looks like a downer, but no, Vaughan addresses an upbeat subject here. Likewise, "Off the Deep End" ambles along amiably enough, but there's a current of tension underpinning the song, until we reach the line "And the Water's Fine". Here, the music relaxes, mirroring the lyrics. And so on, through a cover of "Power of Love" (with killer vocals from fellow Texan Lou Ann Barton), so that when "Without You" suits music to sentiment, it has even more impact. This subtlety is Vaughan's mastery at work. He does what you don't expect, contrasting music with subject matter, avoiding musical clichés like the plague, and doing all of it so offhandedly that you never realize what he's up to. Hence the flute on "Don't Let the Sun Set" is moving, as opposed to cheesy, while "In the Middle of the Night" has a sexy, swinging beat and heartbroken lyrics. [+]