Known to music fans around the world as the “King of the Boogie,” John Lee Hooker endures as one of the true superstars of the blues genre. His work is widely recognized for its impact on modern music – his simple, yet deeply effective songs transcend borders and languages around the globe.

One of Robert Cray's best albums ever, and the one that etched him into the consciousness of blues aficionados prior to his mainstream explosion. Produced beautifully by Bruce Bromberg and Dennis Walker, the set sports some gorgeous originals ("Phone Booth," "Bad Influence," "So Many Women, So Little Time") and two well-chosen covers, Johnny "Guitar" Watson's "Don't Touch Me" and Eddie Floyd's Stax-era "Got to Make a Comeback." Few albums portend greatness the way this one did.

It's not as if Albert King hadn't tasted success in his first decade and a half as a performer, but his late-'60s/early-'70s recordings for Stax did win him a substantially larger audience. During those years, the label began earning significant clout amongst rock fans through events like Otis Redding's appearance at the Monterey International Pop Festival and a seemingly endless string of classic singles. When King signed to the label in 1966, he was immediately paired with the Stax session team Booker T. & the MG's. The results were impressive: "Crosscut Saw," "Laundromat Blues," and the singles collection Born Under a Bad Sign were all hits. Though 1972's I'll Play the Blues for You followed a slightly different formula, the combination of King, members of the legendary Bar-Kays, the Isaac Hayes Movement, and the sparkling Memphis Horns was hardly a risky endeavor. The result was a trim, funk-infused blues sound that provided ample space for King's oft-imitated guitar playing.

After the expanded instrumental scale and sonic experimentation of Court & Spark and The Hissing of Summer Lawns, Joni Mitchell reverses that flow for the more intimate, interior music on Hejira, which retracts the arranging style to focus on Mitchell's distinctive acoustic guitar and piano, and the brilliant, lyrical bass fantasias of fretless bass innovator Jaco Pastorius. Known for his furious, sometimes rococo figures beneath the music of Weather Report, Pastorius is tamed by Mitchell's cooler, more deliberate ballads: these meditations coax a far gentler, subdued lyricism from Pastorius, whose intricate bass counterpoints Mitchell's coolly elegant singing, especially on the sublime "Amelia," which transforms the mystery of Amelia Earheart into a parable of both feminism and romantic self-discovery. This isn't Mitchell at her most obviously ambitious, yet the depth of feeling, poetic reach, and musical confidence make this among the finest works in a very fine canon.

Distinguished British music interpreter Sir Andrew Davis joins forces with the BBCSO once again, this time with acclaimed soloists Dame Sarah Connolly and Andrew Staples, in this thoughtful presentation of the last two substantial choral works of Sir Edward Elgar. The matury of Elgar as an orchestrator is obvious in both works on this album, notably, in 'The Music Makers' (1912), during passages in which he quotes from 'Sea Pictures' and the Violin Concerto, and in representing the sound of aircraft in 'The Spirit of England' (1917). Elgar uses self-quotation to reflect: 'The Music Makers' is a canvas of self-reflection, written quickly following a period of illness.

Bruno Walter was one of the last of the European-trained conductors who learned their craft at the feet of the great nineteenth-century composers and their students. Along with giants like Furtwangler, Ormandy and Toscanini, Walter had a depth of understanding that fades with each passing generation. But unlike most of the others Walter had the fortune to have remained active long enough to be able to commit dozens of performances to disc in the modern era of high-fidelity techniques, and with the superb orchestra that CBS once housed.

Since you can find plenty of excellent single-disc harpsichord Goldbergs with all repeats, why even consider this recording? For the simple reason that Kipnis offers one of the most technically accomplished, individualistic, and deeply musical recordings of the Goldberg Variations ever made–that’s why! You’ll have to search far and wide to find Goldbergs so brilliantly thought out yet seemingly spontaneous, so stylistically sound yet utterly unacademic, so unpredictable in detail yet profoundly true to the composer’s spirit.

If Fleetwood Mac, Humble Pie, and Foghat had never formed, Free would be considered one of the greatest post-Beatles blues-rock bands, and Fire and Water shows why. Conceptually fresh, with a great, roots-oriented, Band-like feel, the album found Free distinguishing itself with the public like Black Sabbath and Deep Purple did (in terms of impact only) in 1970. Free presented itself to the world as a complete band, in every sense of the word. From Paul Kossoff's exquisite and tasteful guitar work to Paul Rodgers' soulful vocals, this was a group that was easily worthy of the mantle worn by Cream, Blind Faith, or Derek & the Dominos.