Whether you’re in the mood for McCartney melodies, transcendent church organ solos, doom-laden riffing or a glam rocker’s soul excursion, our latest records roundup has you covered.
Venus and Mars – Paul McCartney & Wings
On Venus and Mars, Paul McCartney leans into pop maximalism, creating an album that’s equal parts stadium-ready bombast and off-kilter whimsy. “Rock Show” kicks things off with arena-filling swagger, all glam thunder and playful posturing, while “Listen to What the Man Said” glides effortlessly on jazzy saxophone licks from Tom Scott and some of McCartney’s most winning melodies. Denny Laine and Jimmy McCulloch give Wings an added rock heft, with the latter delivering a searing lead on “Medicine Jar” that’s as sharp as its cautionary lyrics.
The album plays like a kaleidoscope of McCartney’s restless musical urges, from the echo-drenched stomp of “Letting Go” to the comic-book wham-bam! of “Magneto and Titanium Man.” The 50th anniversary remaster gives the album some much-needed breathing room, letting the mix emphasize the layered harmonies and Linda McCartney’s underrated keyboard textures. With the upcoming Wings: Fly Away documentary promising unseen footage from the Venus and Mars sessions, the album’s exploratory spirit is well worth a revisit.
Close to the Edge (Super Deluxe Edition) – Yes
Yes’ 1972 masterpiece was already a cathedral of sound, but Rhino’s deluxe edition transforms it into a shimmering sonic temple. The title track, a suite of cosmic grandeur and dizzying time signatures, breathes deeper in this mix, with Chris Squire’s bass rumbling like tectonic shifts under Steve Howe’s serpentine guitar work. Jon Anderson’s vocals sound even more ethereal, floating above Rick Wakeman’s cathedral-like organ in the climactic “I Get Up, I Get Down” section. “And You and I” remains one of the most sublime pieces of progressive rock ever recorded, and here, its acoustic intro is crisper.
The real surprises come in the expanded material: unheard early takes where Bill Bruford’s jazz-inflected drumming is more upfront, alternate vocal harmonies that add new dimensions to Anderson’s celestial poetry and live cuts that capture Yes at their most ferocious. The 5.1 mix, supervised by Steven Wilson, unearths new details in every crevice—Squire’s counterpoint runs, Howe’s ghostly slide guitar textures, Wakeman’s synth flourishes. This is reissue as excavation, revealing new layers of brilliance in an album that already felt limitless.
Young Americans – David Bowie
Bowie called Young Americans his “plastic soul” phase, but nothing about it feels fake—it’s the sound of an art-rock chameleon diving headfirst into American R&B and finding something real in the sweat and the saxophones. David Sanborn’s alto wails through the title track like an exorcism, while Carlos Alomar lays down the kind of liquid guitar groove that would define Bowie’s next few years. Then there’s “Fame,” co-written with John Lennon, a snakebitten funk strut. The album thrives on tension—between glitz and grime, between cool detachment and desperate longing.
Paranoid – Black Sabbath
If Black Sabbath was the birth of doom, Paranoid was the moment the monster lurched to its feet, six stories tall and stomping toward the future of heavy music. The title track still hits like a speeding train, Tony Iommi’s guitar tone as thick as molten iron while Bill Ward’s drum fills tumble with barely controlled chaos. “War Pigs” is the real apocalypse, though—Ozzy Osbourne’s vocals sound like they’re coming from the depths of an air-raid bunker, while Geezer Butler’s bass throbs like a doomsday clock counting down to oblivion. The new Rhino release amplifies the darkness, letting every sinister detail seethe to the surface.