Gordon Lightfoot Book, Music and More!

Newman’s won Oscars for his soundtrack work, but it’s his sardonic songs—often written from the perspective of an unreliable narrator—that have made him one of America’s most celebrated songwriters. Here, the creator of “Sail Away” and “Rednecks” shines with a merciless portrait of Russia’s Vladimir Putin and “She Chose Me” a tender song for his wife.  There’s also a heartbreaking ballad, “Wandering Boy,” about a father pining for his estranged son. The standout is “The Great Debate,” a devastatingly funny eight-minute mini-musical in which he pits quantum mechanics and astrophysicists in an arena against Presbyterians and Episcopalians to determine whether science o...

Tyson recently celebrated her 83rd birthday with this release, which she calls her final album. The folk legend ends her career on a high note, with a dozen songs that convey the wisdom of her years. “Leaves in the Storm” is an evocative love story set in post-war Berlin, with two lovers “too old to be innocent, too young to be wise.” The fiddle-fueled “Long Chain of Love” is a touching matriarchal family saga about the chains that bind. And the rollicking “Now Tell Me That You’ve Got the Blues” proves that Tyson, retiring or not, is a mama who can still barrelhouse with the best of them.

There’s nothing twiddly dee about the Irish music performed by Lankum. Yes, there are fiddles and uileann pipes. But the Dublin-based group—Radie Peat, Cormac MacDiarmada and brothers Ian and Daragh Lynch—favour darker, more subversive Celtic sounds, opting for traditional murder ballads along with original tales about modern-day horrors. Like a bleaker Pogues, Lankum revel in gothic intensity on “Go Dig My Grave” and “The New York Trader.” But there’s also beauty amid the darkness, especially on “Newcastle” and the delicate “Clear Away in the Morning.” Mixing ambient textures with eerie drones, Lankum cooks up an intoxicating brew.  

Her previous albums were Afrofuturist concepts in which Monae adopted characters like parts in a movie. The actress-singer’s fourth album is admirably more autobiographical, with the non-binary artist opting for an unabashed exploration of hedonistic delights. “Lipstick Lover” uses summery reggae to express playful queer sex, while “Only Have Eyes 42” co-opts a doo-wop classic for an ode to polyamorous relationships. With eclectic guests that include Grace Jones, Sister Nancy and Seun Kuti & Egypt 80, the album keeps things moving, rhythmically adventurous and ultimately fun. It’s a party record with a purpose: finding joy through sexual pleasure—in all its many forms. 

Diawara is a trailblazer—Mali’s first female solo electric guitar player and a gifted artist who bridges Wassoulou traditions with western musical influences. Her latest solo album is easily her best, a collaboration with Blur/Gorillaz frontman Damon Albarn, who plays synths and co-wrote six of the 14 tracks. Other guests include soul singer Angie Stone, Cuban pianist Roberto Fonseca, Ghanaian rapper M.anifest and Nigerian Afropop stat Yemi Alade. But this is Diawara’s party and her soaring voice and bold guitar are commanding throughout, especially on the electro dub of “Dambe,” the bluesy “Netara” and the stirring “Sete,” with backing from the Brooklyn Youth Chorus.  

Silky vocals and soaring falsetto are his trademarks. So, too, are soul-baring lyrics and slowed-down, smoothed-out r&b. All of which has made Caesar, who won a Grammy for his debut, a modern quiet-storm sensation. With his excellent third album, the Toronto artist cranks up the emotion—but not the tempo. Songs like the hook-laden “Always” and the dream-like “Pain is Inevitable” deal with vulnerability and heartbreak, while the sultry “Let Me Go” is like a candle-lit bath. Brimming with confidence even as he expresses doubts about fame, Caesar’s latest finds the talented singer at the top of his game. 

Not many artists can keep breaking new ground, album after album. But, with his 38th studio recording, Cockburn proves he’s one of the rare exceptions. The dozen new songs take the acclaimed singer-songwriter-guitarist into familiar territory—folk, blues and jazz-inflected numbers about topical and spiritual concerns. Yet he never repeats himself. “To Keep the World We Know” addresses climate change, while “Orders” counsels love and understanding, even in these times of political divisiveness. There’s humor in the whimsical “King of the Bolero” and joy in the jazzy “When You Arrive.” It all sounds fresh which, for Cockburn, is his modus operandi. 

No sophomore slump for this femme-rock quartet. Toronto sisters Jordan and Kylie Miller and friends Leandra Earl and Eliza Enman-McDaniel have bounced back from relationship breakups and major record label rejection. Like modern-day Go-Gos or Bangles, the Beaches employ infectious pop songs celebrating freedom and sisterhood, as on the viral hit “Blame Brett,” a wry kiss-off to Jordan’s real-life ex, Brett Emmons of the Glorious Sons. “I’m done dating rock stars,” she sings, “from now on only actors, tall boys from the Raptors.” More than a breakup album, the winning collection also includes the defiant “Everything is Boring” and the dreamy hymn to horniness, “My Body ft Your Lips.” 

This is only Russell’s second solo album, but already the Montreal native sounds wise and accomplished. That’s because she paid her dues with Po’ Girl, Birds of Chicago and Our Native Daughters. Where Russell’s folky solo debut, Outside Child, chronicled her pain and abuse growing up in foster care, the bi-racial artist’s followup is a funky affirmation of her survival. Joined by guitarist Wendy Melvoin and keyboardist Lisa Coleman, of Prince’s Revolution, Russell serves up syncopated celebration on “Shadowlands” and “Rag Child.” Best of all is the gospel-like closer “Requiem,” where she sings with a choir that includes Brandi Carlile.

Despite approaching it with some trepidation, I thoroughly enjoyed the movie Bob Marley: One Love in the end. Kingsley Ben-Adir, who looks nothing like Marley, seemed awkward in the role at first and his dreadlock wig was not at all convincing. But the English actor seemed to grow into the part as the film progressed, even his dreads became more natural, and he wound up capturing well the spirit, struggle and message of the man.  The filmmakers chose to frame the story between Marley getting shot 1976 and 1978’s One Love Peace Concert, when he brought political enemies Michael Manley and Edward Seaga together onstage. And there are some wonderful flashbacks, including the youn...